#and constantly waiting for time to pass is not the way I wanted to live my life

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

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Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.9 K Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort (but also not?) Prompt: It was nice to be in Remus' arms, but now it's time to face the real world. Will you be able to do it? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Disclaimer: Vixen’s coping mechanisms are not healthy, please go to therapy and actually process your feelings instead <3

Chapter 47: Let Me Take You Home Tonight

You walked alongside Remus through the tunnel. The floor was cold against your bare feet, and the more you walked, the more you could feel the pain caused by the blisters in your soles. You wondered for a moment if that’s what ballerinas felt after wearing pointe shoes. 

Remus kept throwing glances at you as you walked, you thought you were good at hiding it, but he could hear your jaw clenching and your ragged breath as you moved, sometimes cutting short from stepping on something sharp. 

“Do you want to take my shoes?” he asked you. 

“What?” you asked confused as you turned to him. “No, I’m–” you wanted to say fine, you weren’t sure you could make it sound believable, “It’ll be better once Pomfrey gets a look, I’m sure.” 

“But until then, you’d be in pain.”

You sighed, “You know fae don’t normally wear shoes.” 

“You’re only a quarter fae,” he responded. “And they live in the woods, and fly.”  

You huffed in response to that, he wasn’t wrong. But still, you weren’t going to take his shoes. Your feet were already hurt, his weren’t. 

“Can I borrow your wand?” you asked as you turned to him, he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. 

You took it in your hands and waved it over your feet “Episkey,” you whispered, the same spell you had used to fix Peter’s nose before his date. It didn’t completely heal your feet, but the blisters were gone and walking wasn’t as painful as before. 

You didn’t like using healing spells, they tended to be complicated and could go awfully wrong, especially without your actual wand, but you already knew Remus’ wand liked you since she had allowed you to use it in the past, so you decided to risk it, if only to bring Remus some peace of mind. 

“Thank you,” you added as you straightened back up and handed over his wand. 

“Are you sure you don’t want them?” he insisted, half pulling one and you just shook your head again in response. His offer was sweet, awfully sweet, but you wouldn’t have him feel pain at your stake, two people had done that for you in the last 24 hours, and neither of them had survived. 

Remus still wasn’t convinced, but he walked alongside you, nonetheless. He knew you were still in pain, and he wanted to do anything he could to help you, but he also knew what it was like to be in pain and be constantly reminded about it by people, so he decided to let you have it, he’d take care of you once you were with Pomfrey. 

By the time you arrived at the end of the hallway, you saw the small hole you’d have to climb, the one that was much easier to climb as Vixen than as yourself, and you wondered how Remus had gotten used to it. 

“Wait here,” he said as he climbed up the area with ease, placing his feet and hand on strategic places to make his ascent much easier. He was insanely good at it, almost like Spider-Man. A few seconds passed and then you saw his hand drop back inside, “All right, the Willow is calm now, come on up.” 

You used one of the spots he had used to propel yourself forward and grabbed onto his outstretched hand, your own closing around his forearm as he did the same to yours. And then he helped you up almost the rest of the way. Hauling you towards him like you weighed nothing. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you stepped outside, the light being a little harsh on your dark accustomed eyes, which had you narrow them as you looked ahead. The ground was still filled with snow, and you still didn’t have shoes. You looked at your bare feet for a second before turning to Remus. 

“May I borrow your wand again?” you asked with a sigh. 

“What are you going to do? Melt the snow?” he asked in disbelief. 

“I was planning to use a warming spell…” you admitted.

“Ridiculous.” 

“I’m still not going to take your shoes.”

“Yeah I know, you’re stubborn as hell,” he said with a huff as he crouched down in front of you, “Come on, hop in.” 

“You’re planning to piggyback ride me all the way to the castle? You are the ridiculous one!” 

“What? Like it would be hard,” he said as he turned his head towards you. You gave him a suspicious look in return. “Hello? The best friend who also happens to be a werewolf? Superhuman strength, and all that, ringing any bells?” 

You sighed, “But Remus–” 

“But Remus me one more time and I will carry you without consent, you have been warned.” 

“You wouldn’t dare!” 

“Wanna test it?” he asked, as he raised one of his eyebrows. 

He just might, you thought as you shook your head and did what you were told. 

“See?” he said as he straightened up and started to walk, “Was it that hard?”

“Yes,” you said with a pout as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Remus was awfully comfortable, but you supposed he had always been, “I don’t want to be burdensome,” you mumbled, “the moon was just a couple of days ago, you must still be sore–”

“You are not burdensome,” he said almost instantly. Emphasising the “not” in the very articulated way he used to talk when he was in presentations. 

“You’re too nice,” you mumbled as you dug your head deeper into his shoulder, your lips brushing against his neck causing him to shiver. “You cold?” you asked. 

“No,” he responded. 

“Are you sure?” you insisted, you had felt him tremble, “I could cast a warming spell around the two of us,” you added as you extended your hand in an attempt to get a hold of his wand, but that just caused your lips to brush against his neck again. 

“I’m good,” he repeated as he shoved you back with his shoulder, not too sharp, but enough to drive your mouth away from his neck. That’s when you noticed. 

You frowned, and then a devious smile appeared on your lips, “Are you… ticklish?” you asked tentatively. 

“What? Why do you want to know?” Remus asked with a frown, his head turning your way. 

“Just curious,” you replied with an innocent shrug. Remus gave you a side glance and then turned back to the castle. You had already crossed the entrance archway and were a lot closer than you’d been before. You smiled, and leaned a little closer to him again, taking in a deep breath and blowing some warm air straight to his neck. 

Remus’ hair stood on end as you did that, and his step faltered as if he was about to trip, but he recovered, “What the–” he couldn’t even finish since you did it again. 

“Vixen!” he complained, you just laughed. It was torture, but there was something magical about your unabashed laugh that he wasn’t sure if he really wanted you to stop or not. When you did it again, this time blowing closer to his ear, he couldn’t hold back the cackle that escaped his lips.

“Oi! Please stop!” He managed to say in between chuckles. 

“But I’m trying to warm you,” you said innocently and blew again. 

Remus tried to use his shoulder to push you away from his neck but was unsuccessful, he didn’t want to let go of your legs since he knew then you’d slide off him so he continued moving his shoulders in an attempt to stop you. 

“Little Witch!” he whined. 

“What?” you asked, “You’re cold, I’m just trying to help.” 

“Such a vicious lie–” he couldn’t even finish, since you blew again, this time, he actually tripped and the two of you ended up spiralling down in the snow. 

Remus attempted to break the fall, but the way he tripped didn’t help him much, so you were the one to hit the snow first, and due to the way you were grabbing onto him, he ended up in between your legs with his head being cushioned by your stomach. 

There was a second of silence, in which you tried to breathe in some of the air that had escaped your lungs from the sharp fall, but you started to laugh right after. Remus raised his head from your stomach to look at you, to check if you were all right and was surprised to see you smiling so brightly. 

“Look at you,” you said as you grabbed his head with both of your hands. “You’re so red, I had no idea you were that ticklish! The mighty werewolf, who would have thought?”

“I thought you were hungry,” he said as he tried to shake your hands off. He hadn’t blushed just because you were blowing air in his neck, or perhaps it had been because it was you the one doing it. 

“I am, but messing with you is better than eating,” you replied with a smile and then shivered involuntarily. 

He noticed instantly and scrambled into a standing position. Pulling you up so fast it took you some time to regain balance, “Remus!” you argued at his harshness but he ignored you, pulling you up and slinging you across his shoulder. “Remus!” 

“I warned you, Sweetheart,” he said simply, starting a much quicker pace to the castle, even inside, he didn’t let go of you. 

“Remus, what are you–” you asked as you noticed the path he was taking, “I would have walked to the infirmary,” you said with a huff. 

“Rather not to risk it,” he said simply. 

When you reached the infirmary, he dropped you into one of the beds and went straight to talk to Pomfrey as you stretched and sat on the edge of the mattress.  

She looked at you with a worried sigh as she passed her wand over your body. “You were slightly hypothermic when he found you,” she said as she leaned down to check both of your feet. It felt weird, you had gotten hurt so often lately and you had avoided the infirmary like the plague most of the times that, being checked by a medic felt odd. Like you couldn’t deal with your pain by yourself, which was absolutely ridiculous, even Remus went to the infirmary and he was tougher than you.

You hummed in response to that, “Rem helped me warm up,” you added. She gave a side glance to the boy, he was blushing, and Remus didn’t blush often, she nodded. 

“Remus, darling, could you please leave us alone for a second?” He hesitated but nodded, and walked outside. “Darling, he did more than just warm you,” she said. “News fly fast here, I heard of everything that happened, how’s your magic?” 

You took a deep breath, “It’s… It’s all right,” you said honestly. “It was almost gone after the Fiendfyre but it’s much better today.” 

She nodded, she could feel it, you were pretty much refuelled, it would have taken any normal witch days to refuel after something like that, she had heard about you being mixed race but she suspected your speed recovery had a lot more to do with Remus than it did with you.  

“Please lay on the bed.” She was checking your knees and dabbing some potions on them with a small cotton ball. “Why did you come here?” 

“Here?” you asked with a frown. 

“Instead of Saint Mungo’s, instead of home?” 

“I don’t think I have one of those anymore,” you admitted as you avoided her gaze. “My father cannot be happy with what I did. Hogwarts was the safest place for me. And… I should probably speak to Dumbledore.” 

“You should rest first,” she corrected, “politics can wait.” 

You threw her a worried glance, and she gave you a “no-nonsense” sort of gaze, you had you hold back your argument. 

Still, it wasn’t politics, it was a matter of life and…

 You didn’t want to think much about it either. She checked your breathing, and your face, even pulling your sleeve up slightly to check the bite you had given yourself. 

“That’ll take a bit longer to heal,” she said, she easily noticed it hadn’t been a simple human tooth to tear through the skin, and while she wasn’t sure how exactly you had managed to do it, she knew it had to do with a transfiguration. 

“I assumed it would,” you agreed and covered your arm with your sleeve again. You were pretty sure Remus hadn’t seen it, and you didn’t need him to see yet another way in which you had been hurt. Seeing you bawl your eyes out last night was enough. Merlin, he must think I’m so weak. 

“I don’t know the full scope of the story, luv,” she said slowly as if she wasn’t sure if he should speak or not. “But… From what Dumbledore told me in his note, which he heard from someone who was also at the dinner, you ended up in the situation you did because you tried to help a muggle-born who was being tortured by the Dark Lord. That was very brave of you.” 

You turned to look at her, there was somewhat of a reverential tone in the way she was looking at you that made your throat knot. You weren’t a hero, you didn’t want to be perceived as one either, especially not with how things had ended up. 

Nina was gone and you would have diеd if Barty Crouch of all people hadn’t helped you get the fuck out. You would have cried over her until Lucius used a spell that wiped you off the map. You had tried to make justice and you had succeeded at nothing but making things worse and getting people killed. 

You tried and failed. You weren’t a hero, you were a failure. You hadn’t been brave, you had been reckless and stupid. But if things happened all over again, would you have allowed Nina to be tortured? Would you have allowed Bellatrix to kill her? 

Of course not. 

“She still diеd,” you said, avoiding her gaze entirely. 

Pomfrey placed her hand over yours, “I don’t know many that would have tried, darling,” she reassured. “She was lucky to have you as a friend.” 

You didn’t want to cry again, but her words had been enough to crack you up. She brought you close to her chest and rubbed your back as you sobbed. You hated it, the feeling of tears streaming down your face, it made you feel weak. 

After a few minutes, you sniffed and tried to wipe your face again. Pomfrey had been patient and kind and she even handed over a small, cloth handkerchief for you to wipe the tears away. “Here, take this, darling,” she said as she handed over a bottle of pepperup potion. “It’ll help the rest of the chills go away,” she explained. “One sip every two hours, It’s just for precautions.” 

She had cured your feet and knees, the bite you had given yourself didn’t hurt anymore and after taking a bit of the potion, the shivering was gone. 

“Will I have to stay the night?” you asked her. 

She gave you a long look, after what you’d been through, the last thing that you’d want was to stay at an infirmary. Would she rather have you stay? Sure she would. But while she was worried about your physical state, she also knew the emotional one was important, and you looked like you needed a bit of normalcy and quiet. She sighed, “You may go back to your common room.” 

You took a deep breath and nodded. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and then Remus walked inside. He had a backpack slung across his shoulder as he walked inside. “Will she stay the night?” he asked. 

“Just got cleared up,” you replied. He could see you had been crying again. 

“Really?” He asked Pomfrey with a frown. He had planned to stay at the infirmary overnight with you. 

“Really,” Pomfrey nodded. “But no walking around barefoot. A warm bath will probably do you good.” 

Remus gave you the “I told you so” look and pulled a pair of slippers you must have left in his room one of the nights you stayed over. 

You smiled and stood up while popping them on, then the two of you walked towards the exit. 

“Remus?” The Mediwitch called as he was about to step out. 

“Yes?” he asked, turning his head towards her.

“Keep taking care of her like you’ve been doing.” 

He smiled and nodded, “Will do!”

“I brought you some of Sirius’ clothes,” Remus said as he nodded to the backpack behind him, "I thought she’d have you stay the night.”

“Me too,” you admitted. “But it looks like I wasn’t that bad off to begin with. She said you helped a lot last night.” 

Remus shrugged in response. 

You got to the common room and it was completely empty, “No other Gryffindors stayed over?” You asked as you walked the stairs alongside him.

“A first year and a third year,” he said. “They must be in Hogsmeade with Minnie now,” he said with a shrug. 

“Oh,” you responded simply. He opened the door to his room and the two of you walked inside.

“Remus,” a voice said from the radio. “Remus, are you there?” 

You smiled, it was Sirius. You turned to Remus, questioning and he nodded. You walked straight to his bed, where the radio lay and sat down right in front of him, looking for the microphone. Once you got a hold of it, you pressed the side button like you had seen people do in movies. “Roger that soldier, the squad is on their way,” you said in a deeper voice. 

There was no answer from the other side, Remus pulled out the mirror to see what was happening. Sirius was looking at James with a confused face. 

“Soldier, do you copy?” you insisted. 

Remus barely kept a straight face. 

“…Starshine?!” Sirius asked, half doubtful. 

You smiled, debating whether to continue with the prank or not, “Indeed, Pups,” you replied, in your voice. 

Remus saw the instant relief of Sirius through the mirror, and James leaned a little bit closer to the radio as well. 

“How ARE you?” he asked. 

Right, Sirius had seen it all. 

“Well, Remus and Pomfrey took care of me,” you replied with a shrug, even if he couldn’t see it. Your demeanour had changed like rapid fire, it’s like you did everything you could to shove last night to a dark part and completely forget about it but people kept bringing it up. 

He saw Sirius sigh on the other side, and he turned to the mirror, spotting Remus looking at him attentively, he pressed the button. “Kit, that’s not what I–” He sent Remus a questioning look, Remus shook his head in response. He could talk to you about it later when you actually wanted to talk about it. “Did you like my gift?” 

“I loved it!” you said, happy he didn’t ask much more about last night. Remus walked next to you on the bed and handed the mirror over. 

You looked at both Sirius and James sitting on the bed, Sirius looked like he had slept about as well as you had, there were deep dark circles under his eyes. If he had seen what you had… He might be the only person besides Remus, who understood what you were feeling, or at least had a vague idea of it, and yet… you refused to talk about it. 

Not now, not through the damn radio, you tried to justify yourself. You were well aware ignoring your feelings wasn’t quite healthy, but you didn’t know a better way to cope either. Crying until you were tired wasn’t exactly a better option either, not now when you still had things to do. Maybe after the war was over, after your friends were safe, then you’d allow yourself to cry. 

“Yeah?” Sirius asked with a smile. You nodded in return, looking at him through the mirror. He was wearing one of the shirts you’d gotten him. “I loved what you sent me,” he responded. “I’ve already been practising some watercolour stuff.” 

Good, this was good, as if nothing had happened. 

“Me too,” James intervened by snatching the microphone away from Sirius. “I mean I haven’t been practising watercolour, but I loved your gifts.” 

You send him a wink through the mirror and spend about half an hour chatting with them about anything other than what had happened. 

At some point, the boys had to go for lunch and you said a quick goodbye to them before allowing yourself to recline back on Remus’ bed. You wanted to keep your mind entertained, “We should go to the library,” you said out of a sudden, “or to eat, you said I could eat after Pomfrey.” 

“You should bathe first, she said a warm bath should help you feel better,” Remus said as he placed his hand on your head to check your temperature. You were still borderline cold.  

You checked the clock and took a sip of the pepperup potion Pomfrey had given you. Smoke came out of your ears for a couple of seconds. You were thankful for the fact that you didn’t have to drink it all in one go, you didn’t like the smoke thing one bit. It wasn’t painful, but you didn’t find it exactly comfortable either. 

“Yes Mum,” you said as you let yourself sink deeper into the bed. 

“Well then?” 

“I don’t want to leave,” you whined, and you really didn’t. Being alone would only have you spiralling deep in your head, and in your thoughts, and nothing good could come from that. You turned to look at him, “Why don’t you read to me instead?” 

“Why don’t you get an audiobook?” he retorted almost without thinking, “Besides I thought you were hungry.” 

“Doesn’t sound as nice as you do, and I’m starving,” you said as you turned back to the ceiling with a sigh. Remus attempted to hide the blush that crept up his cheeks by turning to the side.

“I’ll read to you after you take a warm bath like Pomfrey instructed. I’ll even read while you eat if you want.”  

You pouted in return, but you did want to change into anything other than the black dress you still had on –even if Remus’ jumper over it was warm– so you decided the deal was fair. 

You stood up and walked towards the door. “What are you doing? Just use our bathroom,” Remus said as he pointed to said place’s door. 

“Clothes,” you said as if it were obvious. 

“Want me to get them for you?” 

“And you’ll pick my underwear?” you teased with a smile. Remus couldn’t help but blush at the thought and you laughed openly at him. “Ugh, you’re such a prude. I can barely believe you were fucking Alice for like 3 months.”

“Oi!” he complained with a frown. “She never asked me to pick out her underwear.” 

“Poor thing,” you said with a pout. 

“As if Sirius had ever picked your underwear.” 

“Oh, do you wanna know what else he got me for Christmas?” He hadn’t gotten you anything of the sort, but the more you spoke, the redder Remus became, and you thought it was adorable. 

“Get your clothes, I’ll run the bath for you,” he said as he pretty much pushed you out of the room. 

“Not too hot!” you said as he closed the door in your face. He heard you say a short “hmph” and walked down the stairs. He leaned his head against the door and had to breathe deeply for a couple of seconds to cool down. 

Had Sirius really gotten you underwear for Christmas? He didn’t tell him about it… And they had discussed presents rather often. Then again, would he even mention that sort of stuff to me? he wondered. He stayed at the door for a few more minutes and then he walked to the bathroom, sitting down on the edge of the tub as he opened the water tap, first hot, and then just a bit of cold. 

Remus was a hot water shower kind of guy, borderline scalding, so when he measured the temperature, he picked it a little hotter than the standard person would. But then again, he didn’t know how long you’d take, so the water might cool down by the time you came back. 

No such luck, you had been quick on your feet, as soon as you got to the room stripping the black dress you’d been wearing. It was a stunning piece at the beginning of the night, now it had been torn and worn out from the fall, there was dried bIood clinging to the skirt and to the edges of the sleeves, both yours and Nina’s. You didn’t want to see the dress again, so you threw it in the laundry with a note for the elves, asking them kindly to get rid of it. 

You would have done it yourself, but you still didn’t have a wand and attempting evanesco without one seemed like the recipe for disaster. 

After that, you grabbed a simple pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. You also took a jumper that you had swiped from Remus and then placed it all in your backpack along with some toiletries. You were thankful you hadn’t packed any of your clothes to take home, although there were some things there you would miss. The clothes you had been wearing on the trip –Remus’ brown jumper and Sirius’ shirt–, the cute stuffed animal you’d gotten from the Slytherins, the books, and… of course, Sirius’ lovely drawing.

You almost broke down to cry again, the realisation that you’d never be able to go back home, that you would never eat your mother’s soup, hitting you like a truck as you thought of the things left behind. But as your eyes watered and your breath started running short you stood up hastily. Tears wouldn’t come if you didn’t give them enough time. 

You took a bathrobe, wrapped it around yourself, and then took hold of the clothing assortment you’d picked, walking back to the boys’ room faster than you could process your feelings. You had to make sure the other students weren’t around as you crossed the common room, without a wand, there was no disillusionment charm, and without that, you could easily be spotted. 

You walked inside the boys’ room as fast as you could, and you heard the water running, you assumed Remus was still inside, so you knocked lightly on the door. 

“Come in,” Remus said softly. “You okay?” he asked the minute he saw your face.

“Totally,” you lied. However, could you be okay? “I got the clothes,” you added as you moved the heap up just a bit to call attention to it. Remus looked at you as he dipped his hand in the water, it was bubbly and it smelled really nice. 

“I added some pain reliever potions Pomfrey’s given me,” he said. You gave him a look. Last time you’d taken his medicine, things had been problematic. “I checked a book, it says they’re safe. And I didn’t use that much either.” 

“You know, I’m not really in pain,” you said, not physical, at least. 

“Yeah bet,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. You reached towards the tub and dug your hand in as well, pulling it out almost an instant later.

“Shit, it’s too hot.” 

“It’s just warm,” Remus argued. 

You shook your head in response. It was hot enough to be uncomfortable. You pulled his hand out of the water and took it in yours, “Have you already fried your heat receptors?” 

Remus narrowed his eyes at you and pulled his hand away from your grasp “Haha, very funny” -he stood- “Hurry up, I’m hungry too.” 

He was about to leave the bathroom when you stood up as well, “Wait, may I borrow your wand?” 

Remus handed it over without questioning and then exited the room. You turned back at the tub, it was scalding. 

“Relashio gelida,” you said, a stream of freezing cold water left Remus’ wand. After a couple of minutes, you stopped the stream and checked the water again. It was still warm but not scalding anymore. You stripped and got in. The smell and the potions relaxing you in an instant. You didn’t want to take too long, so you busied yourself rubbing off some of the dirt and cleaning the dried patches of bIood. You sank completely under the water, blinking as you looked up at the stone ceiling, a little blurry due to the bubbly water. I didn’t hurt your eyes though, whatever potions Remus had used, prevented the soap from actually sinking into them. 

Not that you would have minded the little sting, all you wanted was a little moment of quiet under the water. She had always been a calming force for you. You remembered once reading that mermaids couldn’t cry, since they were already inside the water. You liked the idea of being able to cry without people noticing. You stayed there until your lungs cried for air and you resurfaced enough to let your face out of the water, you took a deep breath and sighed, closing your eyes and figuring it was about time for you to finish up.

You changed quickly and found Remus sitting outside, a book in his hands. You were still drying your hair as you stepped into his room. Remus thought you looked adorable as you brushed the towel over your head. The crisp white shirt you’d chosen made you look angelic in his eyes. 

“Let’s get some food,” you said as you left your hair alone and brushed it with your fingers. You’d let it air dry as you ate. The castle was warm enough to not have to worry about drying it. 

Remus nodded and the two of you walked down to the Great Hall. It was almost empty, there were a few students cuddled up at some tables. Like 5 Slytherins sitting with Ravenclaws, and then there were 3 younger Hufflepuffs at their own table. 

“I guess they chose not to go to Hogsmeade,” you said as you sat down.

“Some of them didn’t get permission from their parents,” Remus explained. “Enid and Niall for example,” he said pointing at the Hufflepuffs, “they are half-bIoods, their parents forbade them from going because of all the incidents they’ve read in the papers, they were scared.” 

“And they should be,” you said, thinking back to the pile of dеad bodies back in Rosier Manor.  The feast wasn’t as big as it was normally, but a decent assortment of food appeared right in front of you as you sat. There were desserts, and fruits and pasta and even some pies, but most importantly for you at that moment, there was meat. 

You grabbed onto a few sausages bacon and a piece of steak and started munching on it the instant they appeared. Remus helpfully filled up a cup of your favourite juice for you and passed it over, before serving himself one. 

He, despite claiming he was hungry earlier, took his time preparing himself a sandwich before he placed anything in his mouth. You felt like you were devouring your food in comparison to the much calmer demeanour he kept as he munched on his sandwich and ate some chips. 

“I’m thinking about writing my parents,” he said after taking a sip from his juice. You turned to him and nodded. “But I’m not sure if… I mean would you rather stay here or do you wanna come with us?” 

“You mean come to your house?”

Remus shrugged in response “I mean, the change of scenery could help clear your mind… and we could visit James and Sirius at some point too…” He seemed slightly hesitant as he spoke. 

“Are you sure your parents would want me at their house, though?” 

He frowned, “why wouldn’t they?” 

“I mean… Pomfrey’d heard about the dinner, I pretty much openly opposed Voldemort, there’s probably a huge target for my head, that’s why I came straight to Hogwarts.” 

“Oh, they won’t care,” Remus said. “We can ask Dumbledore if he thinks it’s safe if you want. If not we can just stay here until the break is over–“

“–I can stay here,” you interrupted. “Remus, your mum must miss you a lot. She hasn’t seen you in months, you’re not going to stay just because of me.”

“Mum has Dad, she won’t be alone if I don’t go,” he said simply. “If you stay, I’ll stay.” 

“Talk to them first,” you insisted. “When were you supposed to leave?” 

“Tonight,” he admitted. ��I’m meant to see Dumbledore after dinner, he’ll let me use his office’s floo network.”

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but the idea of spending tonight alone was unnerving. Of course, you couldn’t keep clinging onto Remus like a leech, no matter how comforting he might be. 

“I’m going to the owlery,” he said as he stood up, “I’ll write them, we’ll have an answer before then.” 

“I should speak to Dumbledore,” you said as you too stood up, you turned towards the teacher’s table, “you think he’ll be at his office?”

He shrugged, “I’ll come with, it’s on my way anyway.”

You nodded, secretly thankful that he’d offered to walk you there, since you weren’t sure how to get to Dumbledore’s office. Yes, you had been at the school and you knew your way around secret passageways and to and from classrooms as much as anyone, but you hadn’t been to his office since the very start of the year, you didn’t even remember ever seeing it again. 

Once the two of you were in front of the statue, Remus waited for you to ring the bell and for the statue to roll around revealing the set of stairs before nodding at you and continuing on his way. It was strangely reminiscent of that time you’d met him, the sexy pirate from the romance novels, you remembered. You had been through so much with him, that the initial meeting seemed to you like it had been years ago, instead of months. 

The statue behind you clicked into position and you took a deep breath and walked upstairs, ready to talk to Dumbledore, even if you weren’t eager to relive the night’s events.

“I was expecting you to come,” he said calmly, “please sit,” he added as he gestured towards his chair. You swallowed and did as told. “How are you?” 

“Surprisingly, still alive,” you responded. 

There was a faint smile on his face, almost imperceptible, but you had noticed the way the corner of his mouth curled, even if just for a second. “I wouldn’t say surprising,” he said, “I’ve been informed you’re a very capable witch.” 

You held back the amused scoff that threatened to leave your mouth by clenching your jaw before you decided to speak again, changing the drive of the conversation. “How much do you know?” He curled an eyebrow. “Of last night, I mean.” 

“There was a fire at the Christmas Party, people diеd, your mother, among them.” 

“It was a Deatheater Party,” you said coldly, “Voldemort was there, they called him Tom.” 

He nodded as if he was aware of that. “They were torturing people, you intervened to stop Mrs. Lestrange from using an unforgivable on Nina Blythe. Her mother had already passed, unfortunately. Nobody’s seen her since the disaster.” 

You struggled to say the next words, “She didn’t make it.” 

The man nodded, somberly, “I assumed as much when you arrived with Madam Pomfrey and she didn’t. You wouldn’t have left her behind.” 

He was right, you didn’t even want to leave her behind when she had passed. “Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier helped me escape.” 

“The same Slytherins that–” 

“–Yes,” you cut him off, you didn’t like being rude to your elders, but you didn’t want to hear from that moon either. The fact that the two boys had helped you still being hard to process. The same hands that had left you bruised one night had grabbed onto you to get you out of there alive, it didn’t make sense. “There were a lot of people there. I don’t know all of their names, but I tried to gather as many as I could. I’m sorry if I can no longer be of use.”

Dumbledore frowned, “No longer be of use?” 

“I can’t spy for you anymore.” 

“Ahhh,” he said, seeming to understand. “Nightshade didn’t ask to train you just because she thought you’d be a useful spy. Neither did I. We wanted you to join the Order of the Phoenix.” 

“The what?” 

Dumbledore explained to you what the Order was, that while your family connections had been initially a big reason for your recruitment, it had been your performance in classes, and the friendships you had formed that really got Nightshade to choose you. You had shown no bIood-based bias, you had openly defied pure-bIoods. 

“We think you’d be an incredible addition to our ranks,” he added. 

You gulped as you stared at his desk, trying to process everything he’d told you, “You… you want me to fight in the war,” you said, as if putting it into words made it any more real than it already was. 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as he stared at you and nodded, “Perhaps then you’ll be able to continue protecting those you love.” 

“But– there are much more experienced wizards, there– I almost diеd last night.” 

“Yes, and you were willing to risk your life to protect someone you love,” he said. “That makes you better for the task of fighting a war than most, no matter how qualified they might be.” 

You swallowed again, be it bravery or recklessness the reason that you had done what you did, you were now being offered…

“A chance to stop it from happening again,” he finished. 

You looked at him with a frown, you were sure your occlumency was up, and you instantly tested your mind shields. They were still up, Dumbledore gave you a long look, and you realised he hadn’t been reading your mind, but rather your reactions and your body language. The way your jaw clenched and your body tensed when he said certain things. You breathed, relaxing your body as much as you could before speaking again, “Okay,” you said simply. 

Dumbledore nodded, and you were about to stand, halfway up your chair before you sat down again and leaned a little closer, “I came here because it was the only safe place I could think of that Barty could help me apparate to.” 

“It was very wise,” he noted. 

“But… Remus will leave tonight. He asked his parents if I could come with them, but I won’t if my being with them puts them at risk.” 

“Do you want to go?” He asked calmly. 

You were taken aback by his question. Of course you did, you didn’t want to be left alone. “Not if it risks anyone’s life,” you repeated. 

He nodded and gave you a long look, “From what I gather, the deatheaters are not looking for you at the present moment. They think you’re too weak, and that you’ll return home by yourself. Your father will probably be there, waiting for you.” He took a deep breath and then continued, “Is there a way in which he can track you? A magic item or something he’s given you?” 

“No,” you responded. You had many magic items, but none by which he could track you. Not even the ring your mother had given you. 

“Then it should be safe for you to go, as long as you don’t call too much attention to yourself. The Lupins live in a cottage near the sea in Wales at the moment. Small muggle town, no wizards live there to my knowledge.” 

You nodded as he gave you all the information, “So, I wouldn’t put them in danger by going?” 

“You would not,” he reassured. 

“Okay, thank you,” you said as you stood up, something akin to a smile drawing itself on your lips.

Dumbledore merely nodded as he saw you walk towards his door and descend down the stairs, a mischievous look on his face, as if he was both amazed by and compassionate of you. 

You walked down and found Remus sitting on a nearby bench, writing some things down in a small notebook. His face lit up when he spotted you, “How did it go?” he asked. 

“He knew a lot of it already, I gave him the details and wrote a list of all the names I remembered. 

The two of you walked towards the common room by each other and sat near the fire. Remus had extended his legs over the table and you let your head fall over his lap, closing your eyes when he turned on the radio and played one of the tapes you had sent them. “You still want me to read?” he asked. 

You shrugged in response. “I’ve got this book,” he told you, pulling it out of his back, “or we could do one of yours?” 

“Your book,” you said, you hadn’t even opened your eyes.

“You really want me to read advanced arithmancy?” he asked. You frowned and opened your eyes, he gave you an amused look as you took the book from his hand to revise the title. 

“Your nose will grow,” you said as you read the title. It was not Advanced Arithmancy. 

“You weren’t even looking,” he said simply. “The book’s fine?” 

You nodded, and he started reading. Remus was an incredibly good reader, and you lost yourself on the story as he read, his hand had absentmindedly found your hair and he was carefully brushing his fingers over your scalp, like he often saw you do to comfort Sirius, you had done it to him a couple of times too, and he loved every minute of it. 

You were both so immersed in the story that neither of you realised there was an owl knocking on a window until a boy from 2nd year walked down the stairs and asked if anyone was expecting mail. 

You turned to look at Remus and he moved the book away to be able to see your face, you lifted yourself up while he stood and walked towards the window, opened it and retrieved a small letter from an owl’s beak. 

“Thank you,” you said to the boy with a polite smile. 

“You’re welcome,” he said before giving you a court nod and leaving, waving a polite goodbye. 

“They said you can come,” Remus said as he sat down next to you again, showing you the letter. You took a deep breath and smiled. You wouldn’t have to spend the night alone. “Want me to help you pack?” 

You nodded with a smile and the two of you walked to your room. Remus had been there before, back at the Halloween party, a soft smile played on his lips as he looked back at the memory. 

Meanwhile, you took the small bag from the party that you had somehow managed to keep slung across your shoulder during the entire ordeal and started dumping everything onto your bed. Remus looked at you surprised since he had no idea you had also charmed your bag to keep so many things inside. 

“Why would you take so many things to the party,” he asked as he pulled one of the three books inside the bag and started to inspect it. 

“I was originally planning to sit in a corner and read something,” you admitted, “was not expecting a bigotry celebration.” 

“I loved this, by the way,” you said as you pulled out the book of poems he’d made you and placed it on the desk carefully. 

“You took it as well?” 

You shrugged, “I wanted to read it, I haven’t gotten through all the pages,” you said honestly. Then you leaned down and picked out a small suitcase from under your bed. 

Remus smiled as he looked at you, you had been so talkative at Slughorn’s party, perfectly entertaining both adult guests and other kids your age, he could barely imagine you sitting in a corner with a book in your hand, you clearly hadn’t been eager to attend said party in the first place. 

“Do your parents celebrate an elegant New Year?” You asked as you pulled a few simpler clothes from your trunk, some jeans, a couple of jumpers, some thermal clothes and a couple of graphic tees. 

“No wonder I can’t find my jumpers,” he said as he grabbed three of the jumpers you had pulled out. 

“Sorry,” you said with a wince and a small shrug, they were all his. “So, elegant?” 

“Not really?” he said with a shrug. “I mean Mum wears something nice, but it’s not like elegant wizard stuff either.” 

“You think this would work?” You asked as you pulled out a simple blue dress. It had sleeves that would reach just past your elbows and a square neckline. 

Remus nodded with a shrug, “Just wear something comfortable,” he said as he sat on the bed and helped bend some of the clothes you’d picked out. 

“Oh, Rem, don’t worry about that, it’s–” 

“Shhh,” he interrupted, “just focus on finding the stuff, we should hurry.” 

You gave him a look but nodded, picking out some more stuff quickly and starting to bend it all. When you opened your suitcase he realised it had also been charmed, two rows of drawers pulled out and moved to the side, enough for you to place all you had picked and at least another 3 times that. Of course, you wouldn’t need that many clothes, so it didn’t matter if some parts of it stayed empty. 

“You’re taking pyjamas?” he asked. 

You hadn’t even thought about it, and quickly dug through your trunk to pull some shorts, fluffy socks, long sleeve shirts, and also some thick pants, in case it got too cold. You also walked towards the bathroom and got a toothbrush and a small set of toiletries. When you walked back, Remus was already placing all of your sleep clothes in one of the drawers. 

“Thanks,” you said with an awkward smile and pulled a brush from the vanity. 

Remus just shrugged in response, “No problem, luv.”

You heard a small tap on the window and walked towards it, a large black owl was leaning against the window seal. He carried a small square package in its claw, Narrow and long, wrapped in black fabric and with a letter tucked in the side. The owl waited for you to open, left the package with a small nod and flew away. 

Remus and you exchanged looks before you picked it up and walked over to the bed, sitting next to him. You pulled the green ribbon and found a small letter on top, it was more of a note than a letter, though. 

We attempted to retrieve your wand, unfortunately, and as you’ll see, we were late, Bella had already broken it in two. You’ll have to get a new one. Barty mentioned that you asked for the one that belonged to the girl. We had to dig through, but we found it. Hope it serves you for whatever purpose it is that you need it. 

-E

“They got it back,” you whispered as you took the box and pulled it open. Your wand, like Evan said, was there in two pieces, completely broken. You pulled out the pieces with a sigh, a sad look as you stared at them. 

“You’ve had it all your life?” 

“Yeah,” you answered, “I got it when I was 9 so I could study ahead.” Remus gave you an incredulous look, and you shrugged. “They wanted me to perform well in my first year. They wouldn’t let me use it all the time, but Mum taught me all the basic spells, and I pinched a book of duels from my father. I accidentally charred a tree before they realised.” 

Remus scoffed with a smile on his face. He shouldn’t have been surprised, you had always been a bit of a troublemaker, but imagining a little Vixen with a wand burning a tree down was certainly amusing. Either way, there was still another wand in the box. It was narrow and long, about as long as James’, perhaps a little longer, it was carved like Sirius’ but the insides had a tinge of blue, and seemed to shine as it caught the light. “Is that–”

“Nina’s wand,” you finished, swallowing thickly as you too looked inside the box. “They found it,” you added with a sad smile. 

“What will you do with it?” he asked. 

You shook your head, “I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I just knew I didn’t want it to be lost forever.” 

“Do you know what type of wand it is?” he asked. 

You shook your head in response, “Nina almost always kept her in her pocket, she tended to avoid the subject… I never asked her why.” That last part was a little harder to say, mostly because of the thought that came to your head after it, you’d never be able to ask why.

“Maybe we can give it back to a family member?” 

“Her mum was there too,” you responded. “Perhaps Sybil would know,” you added with a shrug.

“If–” Remus hesitated, “If I were her, I’d want you to keep it.” 

You gave him a look, and picked the wand up, shaking your head, “I doubt it.” 

“No, I’m sure,” Remus insisted. “She pushed you out of the way of a spell, she would want you to be protected. If her wand could protect you the same way you protected her–”

“Tried,” you corrected. “I tried to protect her.” 

Remus placed his arm over your shoulders and brought you closer to him, “Sometimes we do all that’s within our power and we still lose. It doesn’t make us any less worthy.” 

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “If I take it” –you took in a breath– “If I take it then I can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen.” Your eyes were watering again. “I’d have to face it, every time I do magic, I’ll have to–”

“Hey,” Remus said softly, as he rubbed his hand on your shoulder. “Breathe, luv. Let’s leave it here for now. You can borrow my wand whenever you need magic and we’ll go to Diagon sometime on the break so you can get a wand. How does that sound?” 

You blinked the tears away, quickly cleaning one that had slipped and nodded. “I’ll bring it, just in case,” you said, and gently placed the one on the drawer near the bottom. You didn’t want to see it when you looked for clothes. 

Remus didn’t think it was healthy to ignore your feelings, he knew what you were doing to yourself wasn’t any better than actually processing your loss, but he had been trying to ignore his feelings for you and Sirius the last few months, and he wasn’t hypocritical enough tell you how you should process things when he himself could barely do it. 

Eventually, you took a deep breath and pressed a button on the side of the suitcase. The drawers went back inside and the suitcase closed shut. You took some of the books and placed them inside the smaller bag you had taken to the party. “We’ve got books at home too,” Remus teased with a smile and you elbowed him gently. 

“You said after dinner, right?” He nodded, and you turned to the clock, “We should probably go see Dumbledore then… Perhaps we can get some snacks from the kitchen on our way.” 

Remus shook his head, “Mum will have dinner for us,” Remus said, "she used to be a chef, she’s always loved cooking.” 

“I had no idea,” you said as you grabbed the suitcase and the bag, you left them in the common room and walked with Remus to get his own suitcase and backpack and then the two of you walked towards Dumbledore’s office. 

“I see you’ve decided to go,” Dumbledore said as he saw you with the suitcase in hand. 

“Remus can be very persuasive,” you replied. 

He nodded and moved out of the way to let you walk towards his chimney. 

Dumbledore handed over a small piece of paper to you, in neat gold, you read: Lupin’s cottage, Wales. 

“Thank you,” you said as you walked over to the chimney.

“Mr. Lupin, perhaps you should go first,” Dumbledore suggested. 

Remus nodded in agreement and walked inside, taking some powder from the bag and then throwing it against the floor, “Lupin’s cottage, Wales,” he said, articulating every word carefully. 

“Ready?” Dumbledore asked as he offered the bag for you to take some of the green powder. You nodded and dug your hand into the bag, taking a good deal of powder and holding your fist closed tight. “Take care,” he said simply. 

“Thank you, Professor,” you said as you walked inside the chimney. “Happy New Year,” you added right before taking a deep breath and saying “Lupin’s cottage, Wales.” 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: I little bit of fluff so we can start processing all that's been going on in GC lately. I feel like it's much needed.

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[theriverdalereviewer]

Second month of teaching down I am officially a jaded being

#if September was just anxiety and being lost and working myself like a horse #then October was just being annoyed and not caring and still working myself like a horse #this job is so 😑 #the amount of bullshit you’re dealing with is ridiculous #everyday is just make it to 2:00 / make it to the weekend / make it to the holiday / make it to break #and constantly waiting for time to pass is not the way I wanted to live my life #on the bright side I’ve developed a lot more confidence and less nerves #I feel a lot more comfortable with discipline now and less upset when students are being mean #but those insecurities are unfortunately still really strong #I don’t know I just had such strong rapport with students when I was student teaching/interning #and it’s been such an uphill battle trying to build that here #it makes me constantly wonder?? AM I UNLIKABLE???? #especially cause one teacher who I work with CONSTANTLYYY is so utterly good at building rapport #that the comparisons make it feel so fucking stark #what I have been told by the other teachers in the building is that I am too hard on myself #and I concentrate too much on the negatives #but I just feel like every compliment is FAKE! A LIE! UNTRUE! #YOU ARE JUST SAYING THIS TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER FUCK YOU! #and while I like being the youngest/smallest/extremely young looking teacher is that all of the veterans like to look out for me #but I worry that I come off as naive/stupid/easy to walk all over

[eloves-writes]

careful who you’re talking to

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: snow hears a conversation with the academy boys about the girl he is secretly seeing and wants them to know who you belong to warnings: snow being snow like fr (toxic, controlling, insane, blah blah blah), smut, exhibitionism, public sex, unwarranted sexual comments about reader behind her back, she/her pronouns used, reader is wearing a dress, if i need to add any other warnings please lmk a/n: hiiiii! i'm back again. this is slightly unhinged and i didn't mean for it to be this unhinged but anyway hope u enjoy, send any and all coriolanus requests my way! mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

it was a cold night in the capitol, and you were steadily sipping a glass of posca to keep warm in your blood-red dress. the silky material was slit up your leg and cut down to reveal just the right amount of cleavage; you might feel a chill but you looked damn good and everybody knew it.

especially coriolanus snow. the two of you had been spending a lot of time together recently- behind bookshelves in the library, in dark corners of the academy halls, bend over desks in empty classrooms. it had begun as purely physical. stress relief. but after a month or so, you had each caught feelings for the other and were struggling with whether or not to admit it. and in that moment, he was also struggling tremendously to take his eyes off of you.

you stood talking across the room with arachne and livia, unable to concentrate on whatever meaningless gossip they were discussing with the feeling of coriolanus’ ice blue eyes on you; there was an electric thrill passing between you like you were connected with a live wire. to say your relationship so far had been hot and heavy would be an extremely severe understatement, and you found your mind constantly occupied with the thought of him touching you and the need to have him touch you again.

-

“i think y/n is checking me out,” festus creed smirked to the group of boys around him.

coriolanus almost snorted in amusement. you were obviously looking at him, and only him.

“something funny, snow?” gaius asked sharply. “jealous, perhaps?”

snow reserved his irritation. “not at all, breen.”

“whoever she is looking at,” felix stated earnestly, “i’m certainly jealous of them. i mean, just look at her. she looks fucking hot.”

festus nodded in agreement. “i’d love to rip that dress off of her. she acts so innocent, but you just know she likes it rough.”

coriolanus felt his blood boil. you were his. how dare they talk about you like you were a common whore? perhaps you did like it rough. he would know, he was the one fucking you. not these basic capitol losers. none of them could make you scream the way he did. none of them had scratches down their backs beneath their shirts from your nails. only he did. only he ever would, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

the other boys laughed, agreeing with festus. adding on their own ideas. detailing the ways they’d make you fuck them. describing the times you had supposedly sent them signals. assuming that you did not already belong to snow, that you would even think about going near them. that you would get on your knees for them like you always did for coriolanus.

he couldn’t listen to them any longer. “she’s seeing somebody,” he jeered, fixing the cuffs of his jacket and making definitive, unquestionable eye contact with you and subtly tilting his head towards the exit.

festus laughed incredulously. “is she now? i think we’d have heard.”

oh you’ll hear it alright.

“yes,” coriolanus replied with a chilling calm, watching you make your way to the door. “if you’ll excuse me.”

-

on the steps outside the ridiculously grand building, you waited patiently for snow to follow you out. it was only a few minutes before you heard the door open again, turning to face corio and immediately sensing anger. you worried, sometimes, about his anger. you knew he wouldn’t seriously harm you, but the same could most certainly not be said for any others who dared cross his path. the future president of panem could only afford so much blood on his hands.

“what’s wrong, coriolanus?” you asked gently.

he inhaled deeply and stared into your eyes in a way that strongly suggested you would be unable to walk the next morning. you waited for him to answer.

“you shouldn’t have worn that dress," he warned.

“what?”

“you heard me.”

either the cold or a fucked up part of you sent shivers down your spine, hairs standing up on your neck. your underwear dampened at his fury.

“i thought you would like it, corio,” you flirted, stepping closer to him. he placed a large, firm hand on your waist.

“i do like it, y/n,” he said before speaking in a low voice. “i would like it better if you took it off.”

you smiled and leaned up to kiss him, but he turned his head. you pulled a face in protest.

“behave,” he spat. “so desperate. do you not want to know why you shouldn’t have worn this?”

“yes, corio,” you replied, doing your best impression of somebody who wasn’t about to throw yourself on top of him. he liked when you were patient.

“because every man in that room wants to see it on their bedroom floor," he attested lowly.

“and you’re jealous,” you smirked.

coriolanus suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair and roughly pulled your head backwards so that your face was tilted towards his. “and nobody else should be looking at you like that.”

a jolt of excitement ran through you. “corio-”

he gave your hair another tug. “say you’re mine.”

“am i yours?”

he realised instantly the meaning of your question. he didn’t have to think about his reply; he had thought about it every waking moment since the day you met. “you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours.”

“good girl,” snow spoke deeply before kissing you like he’d never kissed you before. without breaking apart from your lips, coriolanus guided you around to the side of the building. he counted the windows you passed until finally stopping by one that was cracked open and pushing you against the cold wall. as he removed his jacket and unfastened his belt, he looked inside the hall and you assumed he was checking no one was looking. he wasn’t. he was making sure that festus creed and the other boys were still stood in the same spot; directly in front of this particular window, and far enough from the rest of the partygoers that only the boys would hear you.

you gathered the skirt of your dress at your waist and wrapped your legs around corio’s sturdy form as he reached to move your underwear to the side. he circled your clit until you were practically whimpering, then slid two fingers inside of you.

“corio, feels so good,” you moaned softly.

he kept his same pace with his fingers, fucking you into a state of bliss where he knew you would be uninhibited and so drunk with his stimulation that people would think you’d finished every glass of posca in this stupid party. coriolanus was too good at what he was doing, you were on the edge of release within minutes and still desperately trying to quiet yourself in the name of dignity.

“corio, please, corio, i’m so close,” you whimpered into his neck.

he pulled away his hand, making you whine in displeasure. he liked to do that. liked to know he was in complete control of you, you would only cum when he willed it.

corio looked through the window again, but the boys had yet to hear anything out of the ordinary. they were still laughing amongst themselves. he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, using the slick on from your pussy to stroke himself before he pushed inside of you.

you tried again to stay quiet, but coriolanus began to coax you. “look at you, taking me so well. you wouldn’t let anybody else fuck you like this, would you? who makes you feel this good, huh?”

you couldn’t hold back anymore, his beautiful face spewing such foul things whilst fucking you raw and digging his fingertips into your flushed skin. “you do, corio. fuck,” you moaned, loudly enough that festus turned to look outside.

coriolanus smirked as they made eye contact. the initial confusion about the sounds coming from outside, the look of shock as he realised his classmate was balls deep in a girl he had pushed against the exterior of a building in the damn capitol, his face finally dropping as he realised who corio was fucking by the colour of your messed up hair and the visible strap of your dress, his eyes widening as he heard the things snow was saying to you.

your moans were getting louder too as you got even closer to your orgasm, whimpering corio’s name and repeating “i’m yours,” like a mantra.

snow took his gaze from the boys to you, feeling satisfied that he’d proved his point and starting to performatively enjoy himself, knowing yours weren't the only eyes on him. his pace quickened, driving you over the edge and making you clench around him as you came. he moaned aloud himself as continued to fuck you through your high and the overstimulation that came after until he finished inside of you.

you were completely fucked out, relishing the feeling of snow’s cum beginning to drip down your thighs after he swiftly removed your underwear to fold into his back pocket. he picked his discarded jacket up from the floor and placed it over your shoulders, kissing your head and leading you to the front of the building and helping you into a car which would take you both home. before you walked away from the window though, coriolanus smoothly pulled your lace panties from his pocket and waved them nonchalantly in the night air, catching the attention of the rest of the group. you would never have to know why he fucked you, only that the boys would stop bothering you now they knew who you belonged to.

#coriolanus snow #corio snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x sejanus #president snow #coryo snow #snow x reader #snow x you #corio snow x reader #the hunger games #tbosas #coryo x reader #coryolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

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Part Two

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

���So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

#challengers movie #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #mike faist #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi x reader #zendaya #josh o'connor

[charliemwrites]

Sniff, sniff…. Woof.

Content: Voyeurism

“Johnny? Johnny, baby, come here!”

Your big wolf boy comes bounding in from the living room as you shut the front door, immediately rearing up to sniff at your neck and face and hands. Satisfied, he licks your cheek and drops down again.

“Alright, listen up, handsome.” You grab his cheeks, scritching along his jaw and grinning as his big blue eyes go dopey. “My sister and her husband are going to stay the night. You are going to be a polite boy because you love me and don’t want to give my sister anything to talk shit about. Yes?”

A sneeze that he (for once) aims away from you. You laugh, drop a kiss between his eyes.

“Good talk.”

As usual, he follows you through the house as you shed clothes and shoes and bags. You ramble about the grocery store and your day, mostly just to get it out so your headspace can be clear for the evening. Helps to have a little (relatively) listener following at your heels.

He camps out in the bathroom while you shower, licking the glass door until you scold him - per usual. And again when he tries to lick the clean water off your leg. Only starts getting restless and grumpy when he sees you change into “outside” clothes rather than pjs.

You groan as he tries to herd you away from your own closet. Must be mixed with a shepherding dog because he’s a damn pushy jerk.

“Enough, bud,” you sigh. “Look, I don’t wanna go much either. But it’ll be worse if I don’t.”

He mouths off at you, a new thing he’s started up that reminds you of a husky. Maybe you should get one of those doggy DNA tests.

“I know I know,” you coo, shimmying into a pair of pants that your sister won’t be able to tease makes your ass look flat. “I’d rather snuggle up and watch 90s vampire movies too. But I already said I’d go and this means I’ll be able to skip seeing her on her birthday.”

More grumbles, but at least he climbs up on the bed to pout. You finish dressing and head for the vanity - no way you can go out with your sister without makeup.

As you pass, you roll him over to scratch his belly - politely ignoring his reaction. God, you really need to get him in for a neutering. If you catch him humping one more pillow—

When it’s time to go, you drop down to give him one last hug.

“Be good, baby. I’ll be home soon with some new friends. I love you.”

—

After dinner, your sister’s husband suggests a bar. And, of course, it’s a sports bar. Man can’t go more than an hour or two without.

You and your sister chat while his eyes stayed glued to the screens. Well, she chats. You mostly just provide the audience she constantly craves, the validation she always needs.

At some point your excuse yourself to order another drink, weaving between the patrons and sighing at a chance to let your face rest for a moment. While you’re waiting, someone brushes up close behind you, startles you.

“Och, sorry, hen. Madhouse in here.”

You blink, tilt your head back to see a gorgeous pair of blue eyes shining down at you. Takes your breath away.

“Oh! Um, no problem, I get it.”

You try to scoot as much as you can - but it really is packed, especially at the bar - and the man takes the opportunity to occupy any free space you have.

Not that you’re complaining. He’s got the type of face they put on magazines with hooks like “sexiest man alive.” A killer grin as he winks down at you, arm bracing on the bar.

“Buy ya a drink for bein’ so rude?”

You’ve barely gotten the start of, “oh it’s alright,” out before he’s signaling the bartender. His stature and presence gets him instant service though, so you let it go, fidgeting restlessly.

Even his voice sounds like a sin worth committing. He’s too attractive. Too handsome to not know it; and definitely too handsome to be chatting you up and ordering you a drink.

“You here with anyone?” he asks with an edge that makes your spine prickle. Yet you almost feel like you imagine it. His tone is normal, his expression hasn’t changed and yet. Something subsonic in the timbre of his voice, maybe.

“My sister and her husband,” you reply.

“No husband of your own?”

You try to laugh, it comes out strained and awkward. “Ah, the only man in my life has four legs.”

Instead of looking annoyed by the brush off, his eyes spark.

“Dog?”

“Yup!” And okay, alarms in your head aside, you’re always happy to talk about Johnny. He’s a safe topic. You fish your phone out of your back pocket and show him your lock screen.

The man takes a quick look at the screen, an odd, private smile flicking across his face. There and then gone, before those intense eyes are locked on you again.

“He friendly?”

You laugh a bit, perk up as the bartender returns with your drink. “Not with men. Thanks for buying!”

as you turn to go, he grabs your hip. Not hard, or even too low. But you gasp quietly, the heat of his palm searing through your clothes.

“Name’s soap, by the way.”

Infinitely more nervous now, you stutter out your own and then retreat to your sister and her husband.

Spend the rest of the night pretending not to watch Soap. He doesn’t return the courtesy, eyes trained on you, lurking around the bar. So visible it seems to only you. Something about the way the light catches his eyes reminds you of when Johnny senses a threat. When he gets low and growly, hair standing on end, eyes focused.

Soap looks like he’s hunting you.

Thankfully, your sister complains about the noise after an hour or so and the three of you leave. You’re relieved to be going home.

As you step inside, you call for Johnny again.

“Wait, who the hell is Johnny?” your sister’s husband asks, an odd look on his face. “You’re living with someone?”

You snort a bit. Does he seriously not remember you talking about your dog?

“Yeah,” you joke, “he’s the love of my life, my one and only—”

You hear the clack of the doggy door and call out again. Johnny trots in panting.

“Did you just come in from a run?” you chuckle, putting a hand out in greeting.

He comes right up to you, presses his nose to the spot where “Soap” grabbed you and snuffles.

“I know, I smell wrong,” you soothe.

He grumbles and licks at your shirt, but you gently nudge him away, turning as your sister scoffs.

“You still do that thing where you talk to them like people?” She asks. “Don’t you think that’s… childish?”

“Johnny’s basically a person in a human body,” you reply, laughing. “You’ll see.”

“Dogs shouldn’t have human names,” her husband pipes up, reaching for Johnny.

“No, wait—”

Johnny snaps just shy of his fingers and puts himself bodily between you two.

“Easy!” you yelp, hooking your hand in his collar. “Sorry, I meant to warn you - Johnny’s shy with men.”

“He almost took my bloody hand off!”

“He’s just protective. Johnny, heel.”

He stops snarling, but plants himself at your feet right there, eyes sharply trained on your brother in law. Your sister snorts.

“How are you supposed to get men back here, then?”

You jump as Johnny barks, a full deep one that your rarely ever hear. Your sister startles too, then scowls.

“I don’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “Anyway, let me just get the sheets for the spare room and we can call it a night.”

Johnny stays close at your heels the entire time, though you swear he throws a nasty glance back at your sister’s husband.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

[moon7jay]

please could you do a reader idol x member idol where they sneak off together during an award show and fuck (or js head or handjob/fingering) in the bathroom that would be great :>

Answering this with Jay because I'm currently obsessed with him after yesterday's live like I have been on the floor since then

Please me (p.js)

Warnings : smut, fwb, blowjob, cum eating, not proofread

You and Jay weren't in a relationship

but you wished you were.

you wanted him and sometimes you thought he wanted you just as bad. He had never told you what you were, kind of like an unspoken rule to never ask the foreboding question.

It was fine tho (it wasn't),you both were too busy to be in a committed relationship at this point in your lives but your bodies needed the release which came along with sex. Hot, messy sex. That's how it all started

The first time you met was at an after party, flirty glances and sensual touches lead to Jay pressing your body into the nearest surface by the end of the night while sticking his tongue down your throat just as you grinded your lower body into his hardness that kept poking your stomach. Looking into each other's eyes, it was like a silent promise of fulfilling each other's needs. Jay was a man, he needed a woman's flesh to fuck, and u were just the woman he needed. You were just as horny as him, if not more. Constantly calling him up to meet up at a hotel to fuck and suck. And it was always pleasurable, leaving the both of you wanting more, craving each other's bodies like cocaine.

So it was no surprise when he messaged you to wait for him under the building's staircase in the middle of the award show. You had seen the way he had checked you out shamelessly when your group had graced the red carpet, your stylist having done a good job of making you look like a snacc, your dress a little too revealing but still leaving enough to the imagination

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling as u read his message, you looked around and met his eyes instantly, his dark eyes staring into yours from where he sat in his tuxedo, a few rows behind you. Want and lust dripped from his gaze, making a delicious shiver to run down your spine. You couldn't wait to have his hands on you

It was easier to sneak out than u thought, your manager just giving you a slight nod, everyone was too busy enjoying the performances and multiple collab stages. Well good for you, cuz you were about to have the best sex of your life and as long as people were distracted, you could make it last longer, you could keep his dick in you longer.. .. you could stay in his strong arms longer

Hearing footsteps from where u waited under the staircase , you peaked around the corner and there he was, running a hand through his hairs which were a mess now, his shirt unbuttoned halfway as he walked towards your awaiting figure

His lips were on yours before u could mutter a single word, his body pushing you further under the staircase so that even if someone passed by, it would be difficult to see you both doing the dirty, this corner being the most secluded

His hands groped your ass, pressing your body closer to himself while your fingers tangled in his hairs, tugging at them making him groan into your hot mouth. His tongue licked into your wet cavern and yours slithered out to suck his tongue into your mouth, moans and sighs leaving your lips at the desperation dripping from his actions

Immediately his hands were leaving your body to take off his coat and throwing it on the ground. You watched with a heaving chest and a smudged lipstick as he began unbuckling his belt, his sharp eyes staring into yours hungrily, your lipstick stuck to his lips, he looked so fucking hot

"Need your mouth" he whispered and you were dropping to your knees on the discarded coat immediately, your mouth watering when he let his pants fall to his knees, his heavy bulge straining against his boxers

Your hands held onto his thighs while you licked him from above his boxers, rubbing your face in his bulge and inhaling his musky smell, the wetness pooling in your underwear from just being so close to his dick and balls

His hand came down to press your face closer into his clothed dick, grinding into your face desperately "fuck I love it when u breathe me in like that" he cursed and helped you to rub your face further into his manhood, sucking him from above his boxers, just feeling cock drunk

Your hands sneaked up to finally take his boxers off and marveling at how his thick dick hit his stomach upon being freed. His dick was so big it always made your mouth water, the slick in your panties was making you shift on your knees, you needed him bad

He was giving you no time to tease him tho as his hand that was still holding your head brought you closer to his dick while he fed you his dick with his other, rubbing the precum stained cock head against your plush lips

"fucking take it in and suck it like the skilled cock drunk slut you are " He grunted needily, sticking his dick down your throat impatiently, making you choke on your own spit. But that didn't stop him, his hips started to thrust in your mouth immediately, both of his hands finding solace in your strands, maintaining a tight grip on both sides of your head to keep you in place while he used your mouth to please his dick

"fuck just like that, choke on it baby" He gasped upon feeling the way your throat constricted around his cock, your warm mouth making his eyes roll back

"so fucking good, your mouth's just like a fucking cunt" he moaned, his head thrown back, adam's apple bobbing up and down sexily while he fucked your throat without a break

Your own eyes rolled back upon feeling your air supply cut off with how rough he was being, your nails dug into his thighs, a signal for him that u needed to breathe

He pulled your mouth off him immediately, watching with lust filled eyes as u heaved in a big sigh of relief, sucking in air desperately, saliva dripping down your chin and your mouth covered with his precum

"fuck" he cursed and went back into your mouth again, your protests being silenced by his animalistic thrusts

"take it, take it, fucking suck it hard baby I'm so close" he groaned and pistoned his hips harder into your mouth, pushing your head further into his groin and keeping you pressed against his pubes

"Play with my balls" he panted as he lodged his dick deep in your throat, your gagging sounds pushing him closer to the edge.

Your palm moved down to fondle his balls, they were so heavy, an instant curse falling from his lips at your actions, his hips picking up pace, holding your face still while fucking into ur drooling mouth

"swallow all my cum baby, gonna cum so fucking much for you" he moaned, thrusting in hard one last time and keeping your face plastered to his pubic hairs, nose meshed against his crotch as he emptied his balls inside of your mouth, his hips stuttering a little when u continued to squeeze his balls.

He pulled his dick out of your mouth with a pop and watched as u swallowed every last drop of his cum, sticking your tongue out naughtily to show him your work.

"fuck come here" he moaned and pulled u up from your hairs and smashed his lips against your messy mouth,groaning upon tasting himself on your tongue. He pushed your back against the wall and his curious hands travelled down the length of your dress, pulling its hem up to pool it around your waist while leaving your lower region exposed. He immediately took a hold of his dick and pressed it urgently into your panty covered pussy lips, lodging it between your thighs,making you moan into his hungry mouth. Your hips moved on their own, dry humping his bare dick like a bitch in heat.

"put it in me jeongseong, it's so wet and hot for you" u murmured against his lips, both of you panting in the anticipation of finally having sex

His hands squeezed the flesh of your waist and groaned, grinding his dick further into your wetness, loving the friction

"yeah? bet it's tight too huh? Just made to fucking please my dick" He asked, moving his fingers down to slide your panties aside and aiming his dick at your entrance, rubbing his cockhead up and down against your messy slit. You nodded urgently, wrapping your hands around his shoulders when he took a hold of your thigh and wrapped it around his waist, your hips bucked and his hips thrusted, making his dick finally slide into your awaiting fuck hole

A loud moan of satisfaction left both of your lips upon the penetration of his cock inside your body, the only right place for his throbbing length

"fuck yeah" He pulled his dick out and thrusted into you deeper, a gasp leaving your mouth at his roughness, he didn't even wait for you to adjust. His grip tightened on your ass and he repeatedly pistoned in and out of you, chasing the friction your tight pussy was giving his cock

"God i needed this" he groaned and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing up it's length while hitting your cervix at an animalistic pace, the sinful sounds leaving your lips making him go harder. He dug his teeth into the tempting flesh of your neck, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure making the knot tighter in your lower stomach, already feeling close to your high. His one hand groped around your chest, making you whine

"Jay harder, please" you moaned and he came up to rest his forehead against yours,his heavy breaths of exertion falling on your face, his eyes looking lustfully into yours

"Yeah? deeper and harder? you'll let me cum in this slutty pussy won't u? let me breed with you?" He panted on your face, increasing the pace of his thrusts, spreading your legs more to bump your cervix at a deeper angle. Moans immediately started to fall from your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as u dug your nails into his shoulders and let him ruin your pussy

You nodded your head and bit your lower lip, your back arching at the mind numbing pleasure. God this was heaven

"fucking take it like a good girl, take this fucking dick" He groaned, feeling his high approaching upon seeing your pleasure filled face and how sex drunk u looked

Your hips started bucking up, meeting him thrust for thrust, helping him slide deeper into your pussy, your groins meeting again and again, flooding the empty staircase with filthy skin slapping sounds

"Give it to me" u whined and fucked back on him, the knot in your lower belly on the verge of snapping, just one more thrust-

"Yeah baby, keep fucking it, gonna cum so fucking much, gonna, holy shi- his eyes rolled back when he felt your pussy clench around his swollen cock, cumming all around him, your mouth open in a silent moan. Jay placed his mouth above yours, not kissing, but breathing into each other's mouth as he came into your cunt with a loud groan of his own, thrusting his hips deeper to make the pleasure last

"fuck yeah baby, so good" he moaned and captured your lips in his own, while grinding his hips slowly into your overstimulated hole, mixed juices from both of your releases dripping down your legs and soaking his balls, making him groan into your mouth, riding the high

The sound of his phone ringing made the two of you to seperate urgently

"fuck that must be sejin" He muttered and picked up his coat from the ground, digging around for his phone while you quickly fixed your dress and panties,running your hands through your hairs to look remotely presentable

"Yeah?" He answered, his eyes on you, a palm coming up to cup one side of your face softly as you began dressing him up while he talked, quickly making a work of his boxers and pants, tucking his shirt inside

"Yeah I'm with y/n" He spoke and his words made your eyes widen, you looked at him in shock and worry, what was he doing???

You gasped when he pulled you closer to him by your waist, smiling at you

"Well no, but I'm taking her to the dorms, can u talk to her manager?" He asked and ur mouth gaped open further. dorms? Manager?

You slapped his chest to question him but he only pecked your lips quickly

"Thanks man i owe u one" He said and bid farewell to his manager, pocketing his phone and finally giving attention to your questioning eyes

"What are u doing?" U asked him, trying to push him away but he only pulled you closer, trapping u against his body

"Taking u home so i can fuck u on my bed, like a good boyfriend should, gonna enjoy your body all night till everyone knows you're mine. I'm done sneaking around"

"Jay.." you gasped at his confession, your hold tightening on his shirt where your hands rested against his chest. You must be dreaming right?

He moved in to kiss your lips again, as if unable to stop himself from tasting you and you kissed back, reeling from the new revelation about his feelings

"Tell me I'm not the only one who's been unable to sleep, thinking about needing you closer in more ways than sex" He muttered against your lips and u stared back into his eyes, finally gathering courage to take this relationship a step further

"You aren't alone" u whispered and the smile that took over jay's face was the smile u had fallen in love with. He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, exploring new feelings with your mouths, pawing at each other's skin like always but this time with a different intent. An intent to last.

a/n : Happy new year y'all🖤 it's been a journey so far

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard thoughts #jay smut #enha #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #jay enhypen smut #enhypen jay smut #jay scenarios #enhypen scenarios #park jongseong

[starkwlkr]

Can you do max having a son? Nobody knew he had a girlfriend or a child except his mother and sister… until they see him interacting with a child that’s running around the paddock calling him daddy at one of the races.

daddy max | max verstappen

idk if max’s mom lives in the netherlands so for this imagine her and victoria live there 🧍🏽‍♀️ ok? ok 🫶🏼

Noah was a daddy's boy, it was clear. From the day he was born, Noah was declared Max's buddy. They did everything together, except when Max was racing of course. The two parents wanted to keep the young boy away from the spotlight so they never posted about him on their social media. Noah’s existence was unknown to many, fans, press even the drivers. Of course Max and Y/n’s family knew about the little boy. While Max was racing, Noah and Y/n would stay with Max’s mom, Sophie, and his sister, Victoria.

Once Noah had turned four years old, Max had a talk with Y/n. He wanted no more than to show the world his son. He would never admit it, but Max was jealous of Sergio. He got to celebrate his wins with his family while Max had to wait for a phone call from Y/n. But he always looked forward to that phone call.

“Come on, he’ll love it.” Max said over the phone. The next race was the Australian Grand Prix and he really wanted his son and partner to be there.

“He has been asking when his daddy is coming home. We both miss you. And he did ask when he can see the big cars in person.” Y/n sighed. “What about the press?”

“What about them?”

“What are they going to think when they find out the golden boy of Red Bull is a dad? They’re going to put two and two together and find out I had Noah at twenty.” Y/n said. They were young, even Jos was against them having Noah, but Max wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to be there for his son even if his father didn’t like the idea.

“Who cares if they find out we’re young parents. I love you and Noah and I finally want Noah to see his dad race. Sergio is constantly asking when you and I are going to have kids, you know?” Max chuckled.

“Of course. Listen, I’ll talk to you later. You need to rest.” Y/n spoke.

“But are you and Noah coming?”

“Bye, max.” Y/n said as she ended the phone call. Little did Max know, she and Noah were on the way to Max’s hotel room. Noah was almost half asleep, but he claimed he wanted to stay up to surprise his dad. “Go to sleep, baby. We’ll see daddy soon.” Y/n whispered to her son.

Max was getting ready for bed when he heard a knock on the door. He figured it was someone from the team or Daniel. When he opened the door, he immediately hugged his partner and his son even he the little guy was passed out with drool coming from the corner of his mouth.

“Surprised?” Y/n chuckled as Max took Noah from her arms.

“You’re evil. You had me thinking I wasn’t going to see you two at all this weekend.” Max kissed Noah’s forehead then set him on the bed and covered him with the sheets. He then walked to the door to help Y/n with their luggage.

“Don’t you think it’s about time Noah sees his daddy win?” Y/n smiled as she set her bag on the table.

“Don’t be so sure about that. Anything can happen.” Max said, sitting on the end of the bed.

“Yeah and what’s going to happen is you’re going to win. Noah and I believe in you, your family, your fans, you team. We all do.”

And it was no surprise that Max won that weekend. Little Noah was so happy to finally see his dad win. Jos was also in attendance, but the mom and son didn’t cross paths with the older Verstappen. Yes, he was in a somewhat happy mood since Max won, but he still wasn’t on good speaking terms with his son’s partner.

“Look, Noah! Daddy won this for you.” Max spoke to the four year old, showing him the trophy he had just received.

“Pretty.” Noah said looking at his and his mom’s reflection.

“Max, congratulations!” Daniel’s voice could be heard from miles away. Y/n adored the Aussie and his contagious smile. “And who’s this little fella?” He crouched down to reach Noah’s height.

“Tell him your name, baby.” Y/n encouraged her son.

“Noah.” The four year old said in a low voice.

“Hi, Noah. I’m a friend of your parents. My name is Daniel.” Daniel held out his hand for the boy to high five. Max watched the interaction between Daniel and Noah and thought it was the cutest thing on earth. After Daniel said goodbye to the family, Max enjoyed a moment with them before he was pulled away for interviews.

“Say bye to daddy.” Y/n waved goodbye to Max with Noah.

“But I want him. I want daddy.” Max’s heart broke hearing his son’s cries for him.

“I can take him.” Max offered.

“You have interviews. We’re going to go find some food, I think he’s hungry.” Y/n adjusted the boy in her arms.

“I want daddy!” Noah cried even louder.

“Let me take him. Nothing is going to happen.” Max took the boy from Y/n. “Ready to meet some people, Noah?”

Y/n watched as her partner and son walked around the paddock. She could already see the headlines on every news article.

‘Max Verstappen mystery child?’

‘Red Bull golden boy is a father?!’

#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #red bull racing #f1 fic

[iluvmattsbeard]

replace him (c.s)

master list

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: very heavy smut and strong language

preview: Chris was over you constantly running to him for help with your shitty boyfriend. so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

a/n: listen to song for full effect! trust me, it's worth it. - L 🤍

Chris' POV

i was laying down in bed scrolling through instagram as I see a text notification pop up. it was y/n. I roll my eyes as I read the text.

y/n

i'm so tired of him

i sigh to myself. she was always coming to me for help. her boyfriend constantly treats her like shit. sometimes I didn't even know what to say back. she was always texting about stupid shit he says. I really didn't understand why she stayed with him. I laid there for a bit with my eyes staying still on the text.

Chris

what he do now?

i see a text bubble pop up right away and it stays that way for a while. I guess since it's her first real relationship, if you even consider it that, I understood the attachment she had.

y/n

i'll tell you in person. you think you could come over?

i was confused by the short text since she was typing for so long.

Chris

sure. only because i'm a good friend. be there in 20.

i sigh getting out of bed, heading to my closet to put on a black hoodie and some dark washed jeans. I was sort of dreading it. as much as I cared for her, sometimes I just wanted to tell her to stop talking about him. obviously i can't say that. all I could do was stay supportive.

after a bit, I finally finish and head to Matt asking him for a ride. y/n didn't live that far.

"she's having problems again?" Matt asks getting up grabbing his keys, putting on his shoes. I sigh responding, "obviously. what do I even do?" he just chuckles as he says, "well just listen I guess." I nod as I slip on my shoes as well.

we get in the car and we head to her apartment. the sun was barely going down.

End of Chris' POV

time passes as Chris finally arrives knocking on your door. you open the door after a bit, with puffy eyes. he looks at you as he tenses up. he hated seeing you like this. Chris walks in as he embraces you with a hug. you hug back as you both just stand there in silence. he rubs your back softly. "lets go sit down and talk." he says pulling away. you nod as you walk over to the couch, him following behind.

you both sit down as you sniffle a bit. all he could do was stare at you waiting for you to speak. "he lied to me about where he was. he said he was going to grab lunch with his friends but I saw his location at some random house I haven't seen before." you pause for a bit, "I confronted him about it but he just got defensive. I have every right to be angry right?" Chris just nods. you cover your face as you sigh. "I gave him everything I could. he doesn't realize all I put up with." you say. you continue to rant as he just stays silent. Chris was frustrated listening to you complain over and over again about the same shit.

"and he-" you were interrupted by Chris clearing his throat. "y/n. this is getting ridiculous. how many times do I have to sit here listening to the same shit?" you were taken a back from his response. "all he does is treat you with no respect. do you really think I want to hear about it all the time? there's a simple solution to all of this." you stay silent with a blank look. he stays silent as he waits for a response. your phone rings. it was your boyfriend. you both look at the notification. you were going to reach for your phone, but Chris picks it up before you could. "hey-" you say to him but you stay silent in shock with what he does next. he answers the call.

"hello? y/n?" your boyfriend, Zach, speaks. "look Zach. all you do is make her upset. so do me a favor, don't call again." Chris says hanging up, throwing your phone to the other side of the couch. you sit there in shock. "why would you do that?" you exclaim. "he's still my boyfriend." Chris scoffs. "look at my face y/n. does it look like I give a fuck?" he says with a serious tone. "I know what you want y/n. it's for sure not him." he says shaking his head. "Chris, this is my relationship." you say. "I know it is. yet you bring me in between to constantly pick you up. so if you want me here, stop bringing him up. stop talking unless it's about us."

you have a confused look on your face. "us?" you ask. he lets out a fake chuckle before speaking, "yeah us. I know you're with him but, let me ask you something." he says getting up. "why stay with him, when you got me to replace him?" your eyes widen at the question. "I mean i'm constantly here for you. clearly, he's not." he continues. he walks over to you as he looks into your eyes with that same serious face. you sit up straight as you keep the eye contact. "I don't know what you want me to say. i'm still with Zach." you respond. he clenches his jaw as he lets out a scoff. "again. does it look like I give a fuck?" he says. all you could do was look down at your feet.

"you can stay with him. all I can do is just make things better." he says lifting your head up by your chin. making you look into his eyes. you swallow at his actions. "but I don't trust him." he says. he puts his hand on your cheek as he rubs it softly. "let me make you forget him." again, your eyes widen at the statement. next thing you know, he grabs your hand, making you get up. "do you want that?" he asks. you hesitate before nodding slowly.

he gives a sly smile as he turns you around, bending you over onto the couch. "he won't give you what I got for you right now." he says putting his hands on your shoulders, as he slides them down the side of your body slowly. you stayed silent, giving into the moment. your breathing was a bit uneven as you felt his touch. he then uses his hand to move your hair to one side. he leans in behind you, leaving kisses on your neck softly. "is this okay?" he whispers in your ear. you gulp as you say quietly, "yes". he then stands back up straight as he takes off his hoodie, a long with his shirt. "good". he responds taking in the sight of you in front of him.

he then pulls down your pajama pants slowly. leaving them hang at your ankles. he leans down grabbing your ass, leaving soft wet kisses on it. "perfect". he says. he then leans in behind you as he grabs your face making you look at him. he grips your face kissing you hungrily. you kiss back eagerly. you knew Zach never kissed you like this. as you continue kissing, he moves his hand down to your neck gripping it, still kissing you. you felt your hot core get wet. you never expected to be in this position. yeah, you were with Zach. but Chris was living up to his words. Zach left your mind. all you could think now was how badly you needed Chris. you hear your phone ringing. you wanted to pull away and look but he grips onto you harder. "no phones." he sternly says.

he gets off you, starting to unbutton his pants. it was very evident how hard you got him. just by looking at you, bent over in front of him. he lets his pants drop below him, hanging at his ankles. he then pulls your black panties down. his eyes were filled with lust and admiration. he groans quietly taking it in. "so beautiful". he says.

he licks his lips as he pulls down his boxers taking his dick into his hand. he strokes himself as he gets closer to you. he takes his tip and rubs it at your entrance, teasing you. you move slightly, wanting him to put it in already. he lets out a laugh, "be patient". he inserts his tip slowly taking it out shortly after. you whine at his movement. he smirks as he does it again, having you go crazy.

"Chris please..." you whine out quietly. "good to know you want it so badly." he responds. he then shoves his dick all the way into your wet core. you arch your back at the feeling, letting out a moan, shutting your eyes. his thrusts were slow, driving you insane. "fuck y/n. are you sure you still want to be with him?" he says groaning.

he continues thrusting slowly but deeply, having your arms get weak from holding yourself up. "Chris you feel so good stretching me out". you moan out. he lets out a small laugh as he pushes your head down into the couch picking up his pace, your arms giving out. "fuck!" you scream out. your eyes were clouding up as he continued to thrust faster. "you take it so good." he says with a single sweat drop slide down the side of his face.

you were a moaning mess. you never imagined Chris being this good. "you're so fucking hot y/n" he says putting his hands over yours as you both grip the couch beneath. you were enjoying every moment. you've never been treated so good. "is this what you needed to help you?" he asks keeping his pace. "yes!" you scream out. he slows down his thrusts leaning back up to leave kisses on your shoulder.

he then grips your waist as he pounds you slowly with his thrusts. you rolled your eyes with pleasure at the feeling. he grunts with every thrust. your legs started to get weak as you moan out, "i'm cumming Chris." he slaps your ass as he returns to his fast paced thrusts. you released all over his dick. he pulls out, stroking his dick on top of your ass, shooting his cum all over it. he throws his head back at the sensation.

your legs were shaking, as he chuckles with his breath uneven. he cleans you up, then collapsing next to you. you lay down staring at the ceiling. you stayed silent with a smile appearing on your face thinking to yourself, "wow." Chris then kisses you on the cheek asking you, "so... what's on your mind now?" you turn to look at him before replying, "you". he smiles at your response, kissing you gently.

"call me Mr. steal your girl from how I got you." he says with a sly smile. you both let out a loud laugh. your phone starts ringing again. you knew it was Zach. you let it ring. you didn't care. Chris grabs your phone and hangs it up. "remember, he can't give you what I got." he says.

a/n: sorry if this was short! likes and reblogs are highly appreciated. thank you! - L 🤍

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[dabislittlemouse]

run, baby, run

-Dabi x Reader

ෆ synopsis: Dabi fell for you at the first sight so he’s been stalking you and haunting you the whole time until he now gets his hands on you. He is determined to make you fall for him and crave him just as much as he does towards you

ෆ warnings: dubcon/noncon, yandere themes, smut, choking, fingering, reader has mixed feelings, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

ෆ A/N: this is totally inspired by the book I’m reading “Haunting Adeline” and I’m absolutely obsessed with the whole story. Definitely the best dark romance I’ve come across reading. So of course I had to write something :3

ෆ Song recommendation: Dutch Melrose- RUNRUNRUN

MASTERLIST

“Run” Dabi growls. “If I catch you I fuck you”

You weren’t sure how you found yourself in this situation but here you were: running in the dark woods in the middle of the night, heart pumping right out of your chest and adrenaline level chasing the sky. You kept running and running, your legs threatening to give in any time as they grew too tired to continue the movement. But you never stopped running away from the man that has been haunting you this whole time, like a shadow that never left you alone from the moment he laid eyes on you.

****

The man with those piercing blue eyes that would send anyone to their knees just by a single stare, the scars decorating his features grotesquely and the devilish grin on his face, the sight of him alone left you breathless. The same man had been stalking you for quite a long time, keeping you on high alert constantly, every single noise, every step of his in your house late at night, the feeling of being watched, you didn’t live a day without fear stalling deep in your chest from the mysterious shadow attached to you.

He waited, he watched you closely, he studied you, he provoked you, and the more time passed the more his obsession towards you grew. No matter how much you protested, no matter the circumstances, he would make you his. But patience is key, and Dabi is indeed a patient man sometimes, especially when he wants his plans to work perfectly well. He didn’t want to just make you his, he wanted your heart too. He could easily kidnap you and use you for his own sick pleasure but no; he wanted your love, he wanted you as obsessed with him as he is with you. You ruined his life, because nothing else is in his mind except you.

You were brave, and stupid. Your threats falling on deaf ears as Dabi knew too well you’d grown accustomed with his “weird ways” of approaching you, to the point that as much as he scared you, you couldn’t help the thrill and adrenaline rush in your veins whenever he hunted you down. You hated it, it was so wrong to fall for your stalker, for someone so sick and twisted as Dabi.

But he could wait no longer. His patience grew thin. As you screamed at him to leave you alone, he decided to finally give you the damned opportunity.

“Alright sweetheart” Dabi whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. “Y’want me out of your life so badly? Then I’ll make your wish come true”

The tone in his voice was almost teasing, and you didn’t believe him. You were scared he had something up his sleeve.

And he did.

“Oh really?” you scoffed. “Is this the part when I get rickrolled and in fact I never escape you?”

He chuckled. “Nope. I thought I’ve made it clear that you can never escape me, doll”

You swallowed, the tension thick in the air as chills ran down your spine, not sure if it was from the cold night breeze or his words. You both were outside of your house, a dead silence surrounding the area where nothing except the faint sound crickets could fill your ears.

“Spill it out” you said, your voice almost shaking as you tried to put out a brave facade. But he saw right through it.

“Impatient aren’t we?” he clicked his tongue. “Alright, I will give you this one chance and if you succeed, I will be out of your life. Completely.”

You bit your lip nervously as you listened to him closely.

“It’s simple really” he continued, walking around you like a predator around his prey as you sat still, frozen in place, his heavy boots crunching down the leaves and his pace was slow and intimidating. His eyes never leaving you for once. “All y’gotta do is run away from me. Straight to that forest. If you get out of the forest successfully without me catching you.. then you’re forever free from me…Y/N~”

He pronounced your name with such low voice and rolled it on his tongue like he was mentioning the name of his favorite meal in the world.

You nodded, still nervous. “And if you catch me?”

The grin on his face was evil, licking his teeth as his eyes flared at you. You weren’t sure if the man in front of you was a man or a demon.

“If I catch you, I fuck you”

*****

Breath was caught in your throat as you sprinted deep in the dark woods not too far from your house. Despite from going there too many times during the day, it was harder to find your way during the night. The forest seemed to have changed shape, it felt like there were more trees than usual, and you could swear you’ve been running in circles for the third time, always ending up in the same place.

“Fuck, where is it?!” you whispered to yourself, panic setting in as you tried to find the shortest path out of the forest. It was hard to run fast and at the same time not make any noise, it was hard to keep calm knowing he was after you, hunting you down like the small vulnerable prey you are.

His words rang in your ears over and over, the consequences if you get caught and lose this little game of cat and mouse.

“I can smell you~” he rasped out, not too far from where you were hiding. You could hear his heavy steps crunching everything on his path, letting you know he was close. Your hand clasped your mouth, preventing any whimper from falling out of your mouth as dread settled deep in your gut. How did he get so close to you in such a short time when you’d been running for your life hoping to get as far away as possible?

You crawled out of your hiding place to get further away from him, but his sultry voice seemed too close the whole time, it was driving you crazy.

“You cannot escape me doll” the voice said, making you turn your head back. But nothing was behind you.

“You can run as far away as you like..” to your left you turned, the voice seeming to come in many directions from the dark. Then silence fell once again, all you could hear where the fast heartbeats in your chest and your own breath, blood turned cold as you froze there, sweat coating your forehead.

“…but you’ll always end up back to me”

A scarred hand emerged from the darkness, grabbing your wrist harshly and pulling you forward. A choked scream fell from your mouth as you were slammed right on a tree, your back hitting the rough surface of the trunk. Before you could even think, the same hand was wrapped around your fragile throat, preventing the air from going to your lungs as you choked, tearing up.

“Gotcha” Dabi chuckled darkly, squeezing your throat more as his other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your body towards his. The heat radiating off him was suffocating you even more, he was taller and bigger compared to you while you squealed in his grasp like a scared little mouse caught in his trap.

His warm tongue came out to lick a singular tear falling down your cheek, groaning as he enjoyed the salty flavor of it, before setting his eyes on you again.

“You’re mine baby” he whispered. “All mine. I told you from the beginning that you will never escape me. You.. you were made for me..”

His hand came under your thigh, lifting it up to wrap your leg around his waist.

“…you were created for me to love, to break and shape you however I want. For me to mold and manipulate as I please”

“N-No!” you choked out, vision going dark.

Dabi released the tight grip on your throat as you started coughing and gasping for air. His hand gripped your hair from behind, lifting your head up to look at him as he loomed over you. You could swear his eyes were almost glowing in the dark.

“I will eat your fucking heart out” he grinned, his lips touching yours before he gave you a heated kiss, moaning and grunting in your mouth as his tongue intertwined with yours. The kiss was rough and possessive, taking your breath away as he bruised your lips.

“Mmmhh fuck~ your flavor, can’t wait to fucking claim you for good” Dabi said, his hands tearing the panties off of you while you whimpered and struggled to get away from him. He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, scoffing in annoyance at your resistance.

“Stop lying to yourself Y/N. If you don’t want this why is your pussy weeping for me?” he growled, dipping a finger right inside your sloppy hole.

“It’s.. not! F-Fuuuck” your eyes rolled back as he flicked your clit, rubbing it in circles slowly. It was embarrassing, but all this chase and panic sent a thrill deep in your core, making a pool between your legs that would haunt you forever. Nothing about this was okay, but yet a sick part of you enjoyed it, the part of you who put all the morals behind and enjoyed the moment of being chased down by the big bad villain and being claimed like this. Devoured like this.

“Yeah? It’s not huh?” he laughed, adding a second finger and doing a scissoring motion, making your legs tremble. “I’m a man of my words doll, I told you what happens if I catch you. Too bad my little mouse didn’t get to escape that easily from me~”

Dabi buried his face on your neck, nibbling and biting down, leaving his marks all over you and drawing some blood out in the process. Rolling his eyes in pleasure he licked the blood off you, proceeding to go down to your chest to do the same thing. His hand continued to play with your pussy while you shamelessly grinded yourself on his palm.

“F-Fucking hate you!” you gritted your teeth, orgasm nearing.

“Yeah? Show me how much you hate me then, c’mon princess” he smiled, his palm moving faster to get you to come undone for him. The sound of your wet pussy was loud enough among the silence of the dark forest, your face heating up in embarrassment.

“Look how fuckin’ filthy you are for me darling”

Your legs squeezed shut together as you came all over his fingers, a loud whine falling from your mouth as orgasm crashed and shattered you. You leaned back, catching your breath, body trembling as Dabi enjoyed the fucked out expression on your face. You almost didn’t even hear the “click” sound of his belt unbuckling, unzipping his pants before he lifted you, spreading your legs.

“Aren’t you my gorgeous girl?” he whispered, kissing your lips while the tip of his cock teased your wet folds, grinding against your puffy clit.

“I-I’m not your girl!” you replied weakly, the soreness making you whimper in his mouth. His smoky scent invaded your senses, it was intoxicating and it made you really crave the demon that haunted you everyday.

“Ooh yes you are, only mine. My sweet girl~” Dabi replied back, and without a warning, he shoved himself in you inch by inch, his head falling back. “Nghhh fuck- my pretty slut you are~ so fucking tight f’me”

His size made it harder for you to get used to him as he stretched you, splitting you open, invading and burning your insides. Tears hanging on your lower lashes finally rolled down your cheeks as you mewled on his shoulder.

“Too much! S’ too big!” you groaned while he laughed in your face.

“I’m not even halfway in princess”

With that he buried himself deep in you, leaving you breathless as his cock almost kissed your cervix. A guttural groan left his throat as your velvety walls wrapped so nicely around his cock, it took everything in him to not cum right there.

“You feel so good baby” he bit your earlobe while setting the pace, fucking you against the tree. “Feel like fucking heaven. My heaven~”

His pace became brutal as he plunged deep inside of you, hitting the deepest parts of you while you screamed and choked on his cock. The sloppiness of your entrance and the skin slapping mixed with your moans and his grunts were the only sounds that could be heard in the woods. His hands would leave a bruise on your asscheeks as he gripped them hard and spread them, landing a harsh slap and making you yelp.

“Mmmhm scream as much as you want” he groaned. “Nobody will come to help when I get your whole soul. When I. Make. You. Fucking. Mine”

With each word he thrusted harder and harder.

“I will chase after you forever no matter how much you run, you can’t hide from me. Not here or in any other lifetime. Y’gonna have to kill me if you wanna get rid of me, but you can’t do that anymore now princess can you?” he grinned, forcing you to keep eye contact with him by gripping your chin.

“Because hate it or not, you want me too now don’t you?”

The truth slapping your face hard had your eyes flaring in rage and your face heating up in shame, you hated that you wanted him, you loathed yourself for craving him and his attention, this all was so wrong.

But it felt so right.

Not knowing how else to release your anger, you crashed your lips against his, kissing just as roughly as he did, biting him until you were sure his lips were bleeding. You poured all the hate and need in that kiss, and he took it all like a starved man while his cock continued thrusting deep inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your head spin.

“That’s it baby” he breathed out as you pulled away from him, his head dizzy from the kiss and his cock throbbing. “Just how we both like it yeah?”

Rough. That’s how you both liked it, you wanted it rough so you could pour your hate on him for haunting your life like this, and he could pour his hate and love on you for haunting his mind and soul.

“You’re mine.. as much as I’m yours, y’hear me?” he groaned, reaching his own high too.

“Mmmhmm” you moaned as you felt that knot forming in your stomach, too fucked out to reply back anything other than sounds.

“M’gonna take your heart, just like you did with mine. No getting away from me.. ever” he kissed your lips as his hand reached to rub your clit once again. You kissed him back feverishly, sweat coating both of your bodies.

“Mmm y-yours” you said meekly and he moaned in pleasure.

“Yes baby, all fucking mine. Gonna be my good girl and cum on this cock now? C’mon, princess..”

It didn’t take long for you to cum for him, his words sending you over the edge as you clenched tight around his cock, wanton high pitched moans leaving your throat. It was too much, you almost saw stars as he fucked the orgasm out of you still, milking him for all his worth as he came deep in you. You bit your lip feeling his warm seed painting your insides, you felt so full of him and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You couldn’t understand how you could hate Dabi and yet want to be full of him in every aspect, but here you were.

After catching his breath too, he leaned down to kiss your forehead, wiping the hair off your face and admiring your features.

“I know you hate me, and I’ve never been a good man” he whispered as he pulled out of you, hissing in process. He held your limp body bridal style, heading out of the forest.

“And I can’t pretend to be a good man so you can love me..” he continued, not sure if you were even hearing him. But you were, despite from closing your eyes, you were hearing every word.

“But I’m a selfish bastard, and I want ya all to myself. So, if that means forcing you to love me just the way I am, with every fucked up part of me, then I’m gonna fucking do it. I won’t pretend to be good, cause I’m not”

You swallowed hard at his words, knowing that the villain was in fact serious about all this. It wasn’t just some game of cat and mouse. He had fallen hard for you, and he’ll be damned if he won’t make you feel the same way towards him. As twisted as it all is, he made you feel desirable, he worshipped you in a way nobody ever did, he made your heart swell in your chest and your pussy clench on air just at the thought of him.

Whether he knew it or not, and as much as you hated it, you indeed had fallen for him too.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @shadowsandshapes @dabihawksluva @mossy-opal @daniidil @holydayaria @syrenkitsune @arinexeisnotworking @cherrykisssess @doumadono @dabis0bitch @mysideeffectsofyou @bubblegumsblog @murderous-snail @sukunas-bitxh

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #mha smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #touya todoroki x reader #yandere x reader #yandere Dabi #yandere smut #dark romance #dark romantica #dark fanfiction

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 3

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, mentions of emotional abuse (Chrissy’s mom), absent parent, daddy issues, jealousy. Billy being Billy… it’s not what you think

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Someone you don't want to see shows up at your doorsteps.

Word count: 6.7k

Note: @mysticmunson thank you for helping me as always, you're the best! @somethingvicked thank you for the idea with Billy, it's working perfectly for this story

series masterlist

-

Steve had been so on edge ever since he found out about you and Billy. He knows that Tommy and Carol aren’t the most honest people. They strive off of chaos, they live for the drama and the lies and constantly make up new things to gossip about but for some reason, he believes their words this time. Billy had been following you around ever since he broke up with you– he had been running after you for some time now but never like this. You always rejected him, you were taken and not interested but now Steve can’t help but wonder, were you truly not interested or were you just rejecting him because you were with him? Were you secretly into Billy all this time? The thought of it makes him feel sick. 

He sits in his car, bouncing his knee as he stares out the window, waiting for his girlfriend. The parking lot is filled with students, he hears laughter and different voices. He sees Billy walking towards his car, the usual smug and arrogant look resting on his face. He straightens up, looking around to see if you’re around too, wanting to see if you will get in the car with him. What will he do if you do get into his car? 

“Hey!” 

Nancy’s voice startles him a little, he tears his eyes away from the blue camaro and turns to look at his girlfriend. 

“Hey Nance,” he smiles. He instantly leans closer to her once she’s seated, she meets him halfway, kissing him on the lips. Her eyes are closed, his are open and they flash with curiosity when he sees you through his window. You look his way and it’s enough for him to tense up. 

He expects you to get into Billy’s car but instead you go the other way, you pass by his car and look straight ahead, pretending to not see him or her. He breaks the kiss, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind, she leans back and puts the seatbelt on as she begins to talk about her project. Steve hums and nods along, turning his head to see where you are going. 

Are you going to Heather’s car? To Chrissy’s car? It turns out to be neither of those, instead you leave the parking lot and walk into the direction of the football field. Where are you going? 

“I figured that we could rent a movie tomorrow since we can’t hang out tonight,” Nancy says, “I really wanna get it done. It’s been nice to hang out with Jonathan again though, we should all go out together sometime!”

“Sure,” Steve mumbles and turns back to her when he no longer sees you. 

Her brows are raised and a confused smile is on her lips, “were you even listening?” 

He nods, “yeah, you want me to hang out with Byers,” he says with an eye roll. 

“Hey,” Nancy mumbles, hitting his arm, “he’s nice, you just gotta get to know him.” 

“Sure,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair, “nice.” 

Nancy shakes her head at him, raising her arm, she pulls down the sun visor and flips open the small mirror, a piece of paper that was tucked into it falls into her lap. Her brows knit together as she looks down at it. She picks it up, it’s just a simple brown paper that was ripped out of a notebook, she turns it around. Annoyance bubbles inside of her when she sees the writing on the note. It’s not much but it’s from you, it’s not signed but she recognizes your handwriting and the little heart, only you draw it like that. 

I love you 

She presses her lips together and glances over at Steve who is staring into blank space. 

How long has the note been here? Does he even know that it existed? 

“Here,” Nancy mumbles and throws it into his lap. 

Steve glances at her first, brows furrowed and lips parted, he notices the annoyed look on her face. He looks down at the note in his lap. Oh. 

“I didn’t know you still kept her things.”

Steve blinks as he stares at your handwriting. You drew a little heart next to your I love you. He swallows harshly. The weird feeling in his chest returns yet again. He didn’t even know the note was there– you did things like that all the time, leaving little notes everywhere for him to find. He kept them all. 

“I don’t,” he lies as he puts the note in his pocket after folding it, “I didn’t even know it was there. I’ll throw it away later.” 

Nancy nods, eyeing him from the side. She doesn’t like the way he folded the paper so neatly. He should’ve crumpled it up and thrown it out the window. 

“Okay.”

-

The scented candles in your room are lit, making the air smell like pumpkin spice and cinnamon. The light of your salt lamp makes everything appear softer, you never use the big light in your room, you hate it. The police’s every breath you take is playing in the background. 

“Are you going to the winter formal?” Chrissy asks as she flips to the next page of her new fashion magazine. You are both laying on your bed, the decoration pillows all over the floor. You look at the pretty dresses in the magazine. You would be wearing one of those next Friday if Steve wasn’t such a cheating asshole. 

“Nope.” 

She glances at you with a sad look in her eyes, “we could go together.” 

You give her a small smile as you shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say, “I don’t feel like going anyway, he’s gonna be there with her.” 

She sighs, her lips are set in a frown, “you know, I never liked him. As much as I hate to say it, I’m not surprised about his actions but Nancy?” She mumbles, “who would’ve thought that she’s such a.. bitch.” 

“Yeah, looks deceive, huh?” 

“Totally.” 

You told your friends about what Nancy said in the girls bathroom when she didn’t know that you were there. 

“She looks like one of those church girls.” 

A surprised laugh leaves your lips, “a church girl?” 

“Yeah, she wears those ugly long skirts and those preppy blouses that my mom forces me to wear when we go to church on Sunday’s,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes. 

“Is she a church girl?” You ask. 

She snorts and shakes her head, “I don’t think so, I’ve never seen her around.” 

You nod. 

She flips to the next page, eying all the dresses before her eyes land on the ugliest one, a giggle falling from her lips, she points at it with her pink nails, “looks like something she would wear.” 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“And that’s why she won’t ever be prom queen, that’ll be you,” you say, expecting to see a smile on her face but instead it falls and a frown settles in her features. 

“It’s not prom yet,” she mumbles, “and I don’t really wanna be the queen to some asshole’s king.” 

Raising your brows, you tilt your head as you look at her. Cupping your cheek, you lean your elbow on the pillow beneath you, “you mean, you don’t want to be Jason Carver’s queen?” 

A look of disgust crosses her features and she shudders at the mention of his name. 

“Mom forces me to go with him,” she says, looking like she’s ready to break down out of frustration, “I don’t want to go with him.”

Your gaze softens, you place your hand on her back, “then don’t go with him.”

She keeps her eyes locked on the magazine, “you know how my mom is, I can’t just not go, she’ll make my life a living hell if I don’t do what she says.” 

You never liked Chrissy’s mother, she was always horrible to her. Always pushing her to do and be ‘better’, forcing her to associate herself with people who already climbed up the social ladder, like Jason Carver. 

You sigh, wishing you could help her. 

“What if you just stop doing what she wants you to do?” You shrug. 

She sighs and opens her mouth to speak but you cut her off, holding your hand up, you sit up on your knees, “I know, I know, easier said than done but–” you pause, looking around your room, you eye the freshly washed and ironed cheerleader uniform, the cassettes in the little box on your floor, bands that are his favorites, singers that your friends love so much, you stare at the baby pink wallpaper and the colorful clothes in your messy closet– you should’ve closed the door, the sight of the mess makes you want to groan in annoyance. 

“But?” Chrissy mumbles as she waits for you to continue. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from all the things in your room that you didn’t come to like on your own. You look back at your best friend. 

“If you do things for others, if you do things because they want you to do them or because they expect you to do them, because they like those things– you will end up feeling miserable at some point, you will lose yourself and one day you’re gonna realize that you don’t even know yourself, that you don’t even know what you like, what you truly want or… who you even are..” 

She lets your words sink in. For a moment it’s silent between the two of you. You look down at your hands while she stares at you. Sadness and realization crossing her features. You are trying to help, she knows it but you are also realizing something about yourself, she can tell by the lost look in your eyes. 

“I know that things would be tense if you just started going against her stupid rules or wishes but you can always come to me if things get tough at home,” you say, reaching out to take her hand, “I’m here and you know my mom won’t mind you staying with us.” 

Her eyes light up at your words, a smile tugs at her lips, she turns her hand around and squeezes yours, “you’re the best, you know that right?” She whispers. 

You smile at her words, you tilt your head, “no, I’m not.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes, “yes, you are.” 

“Says who?” You chuckle. 

“I do,” she says, proudly. 

“Oh,” you smirk, leaning closer to her, you don’t notice the way her eyes widen or the way her cheeks flush a little red, “you do, huh?” 

She blinks, her lips part and she stares at your face. Your face hovers over hers for a second before you lay back down on your bed and reach for the bat shaped pillow, the one you excitedly bought for your ‘halloween’ decoration, hugging it to your chest, you stare up at the ceiling, not noticing her stare or her tense body. 

“A-Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the winter formal?” She asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She looks down at her hands, “okay,” she frowns. 

“Hey,” you whisper, glancing at her, “you’ll still have fun.”

“With Jason?” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, “I doubt that.”

“You can still go with someone else. If your mom is gonna act like a bitch, I’ll kick her ass for you.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she shakes her head as she looks at you with a smile on her face. 

Rolling on your side, you prop your head up on your hand. Curiosity sparks inside of you. 

“Who did you really want to go with?” You ask, “I know there is someone.” You notice the blush on her face and it only deepens the longer you stare at her. 

“Oh uh–” she chuckles nervously, “n-no one, I just, I don’t wanna go with Jason.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

She nods. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know that, right?” 

“I-I’m not.” 

“Good, we’re best friends, we tell each other everything, right?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers and gives you a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes. “I’m gonna go now, I still have to study for the math test tomorrow,” she groans. 

“Oh.. yeah,” you mumble, trying to hide the disappointed look on your face. You hate being by yourself, there’s too much going on in your mind when you’re all alone in this house– you used to love it but ever since he left, it’s just been hard. “I gotta start working on the assignment.” 

Chrissy rolls her eyes just the way she did when you told her about who you got partnered up with. 

“You know, you could still take Billy up on that offer.” 

You snort at her words, “I don’t think we need Billy to kick his ass, Heather will do.” 

“Did you know that she accidentally bumped into him at Nick’s party last weekend? He was holding a drink and it got all over Nancy,” she giggles. 

Your eyes widen, you can’t even fight the grin off your face, “no way?” You gasp.

“Yes way,” she laughs as she reaches for her backpack, “he got all pissed and looked like he was ready to fight but when he saw Heather, he got all quiet– he even looked scared.” 

“He should be,” you chuckle. 

“And Nancy got all hysterical and ran off.”

You snort, “she deserved it.”

“She deserves worse for what she did– they both do,” she sighs. 

She never liked Steve, even before you started dating him, she couldn’t stand him. His presence annoyed her and more so when you two got together and she had to watch how he continuously messed with your feelings. 

“Yeah well, I don’t care anymore, I’m moving on…” 

She knows that there is no truth behind your words, you are not moving on. You still love him, she thinks that you always will. You always looked at him like he was the only light in your life, like he was the one who hung every star in the dark sky, it made her hate him even more because he never looked at you like that. 

“I’ll walk you to the door–”

“No, it’s fine,” she smiles, “you don’t have to.” She walks towards you and pulls you into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She squeezes you tightly before she lets go, giving you another smile. 

“Yeah, still gotta help you pick out the right shoes for your dress,” you say. 

She nods, “and maybe I’ll manage to convince you to come, after all,” she says as she pulls away and begins to walk out of your room, “I’d rather go with you than Jason,” she says quickly before she turns around and leaves the room, saying ‘bye’ in a sing song voice. 

You chuckle and throw your head back against the pillow. 

“Jason Carver,” you mumble in disgust. Not a single person could ever force you to go to the winter formal with him but Chrissy’s mother is the epitome of an evil witch, you know that she will make her life more miserable if she doesn’t do as she says. You understand why Chrissy would rather suffer through the night with him than risk a fight with her mother. 

Not even five minutes after she left, the doorbell rings. Looking around the room, you try to see if she forgot something, that’s what usually happens when she leaves, she rushes back in a few minutes later because she left her keys or something else. Sighing, you push roll out of bed and rush out of the room. 

The doorbell rings again. 

“I’m coming!” You call out, “since when are you so impatient..” 

Your socks are a little slippery on the hardwood floor, careful not to fall, you hold onto the railing as you hurry down the stairs. Grabbing the doorknob, you are already smiling in amusement, “let me guess, you forgot–” with your words caught in your throat and your smile falling quicker than ever, you only manage to stare at him in confusion. 

There he is, Steve Harrington, standing on your front porch with his hands in his pocket and an unreadable expression on his face. What does he want? 

Even though it was him who came here to see you, he stands frozen in place. He stares at you and you stare at him. You are both frozen, time stops, everything stops moving, right now, it’s just the two of you in this world. 

It’s the first time you look at him again, properly. All the sadness, all the pain and the longing comes creeping back. It was there all this time, hidden beneath all the anger but it was easier to deal with it when you started pretending like he didn’t exist anymore, when you forced yourself not to look at him anymore, when you threw all his things away, when you let go of him. How dare he show up here? 

Steve watches the way your eyes flash with confusion, anger and sadness, they soften for a split second. This is the first time you actually look at him again. This is the first time you are forced to acknowledge his presence again. A feeling he can only describe as relief rushes through him when you finally look into his eyes again. 

It feels like forever that you look at each other when in reality only a minute passed since you opened the door. You blink and take a step back, rolling your eyes, you go to shut the door without wanting to hear an explanation as to why he is here– “no.” Is all you say before slamming the door in his face but he is quicker than you, he always was. He places his palm on the door, stopping you from closing it, “wait–”

“Get lost, Harrington.” 

He sighs, he didn’t expect anything else from you.

You try to close the door again but he doesn’t let you, keeping his palm pressed against the wooden door, he stares at you with a stubborn look on his face. God, you want to punch him. 

“What do you want?” You ask as you finally give up and let go of the door, you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back, not looking into his eyes. You raise your brows and glare at him when he invites himself into your house, he shuts the door behind him. You shake your head in disbelief. 

He is wearing the stupid flannel that you used to love so much, the one you always stole from him– does it still smell like you? 

“We have to work on the assignment together.” 

Is he serious? 

“I told you, I’ll do it myself,” you snap at him before you turn around and make your way into the kitchen in hopes that he will leave but instead, he follows you into the kitchen. 

“We’re partners, it wouldn’t be fair to let you do all the work by yourself.”

You clench your jaw at his words, how ironic of him to say that. Turning the light on in the kitchen, you walk towards the fridge and open it, distracting yourself from his presence by staring at all the food and drinks. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to doing all the work myself, my previous partner wasn’t much of a help,” you murmur, “in any way.”

Steve scoffs at your words, though he looks down in embarrassment, knowing exactly what things you are talking about. He places his hands on his hips and glances at you through his lashes, he eyes you for a moment before he speaks up, “listen, I-I wanna do better in school and I really want to work on this assignment.” 

You close your eyes, shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Why did he have to sit next to you today? 

“Since when do you care about being better in school?” You ask in annoyance, reaching for a water bottle, you close the fridge again and turn around to face him. He breaks eye contact the moment you raise your brows in question. 

He shrugs, “I wanna graduate next year and Mr. Higgins said that I–”

“Don’t care,” you interrupt him and sigh of boredom. 

He looks a little taken aback, furrowing his brows, he stares at you for a moment as he presses his lips back together. When he came here, he didn’t expect you to be so.. mean. Steve only ever knew you as the sweet girl, not once did you treat him badly in all the years he has known you. You never gave him the cold shoulder, not even when he deserved it. You were always kind, gentle and forgiving. 

Heartbreak changes a person but not like this, right? What happened in those two months ever since he left? 

While Steve tries to figure you out. You try to figure out how to handle this situation. 

Should you curse him out and kick him out of your house and show him how hurt you still are? Should you really give him that satisfaction? Or should you pretend to be okay, give him the cold shoulder that you should’ve given him years ago and act like you are fine with this, with working with him? 

You opt for the latter. You don’t want him to see the power he still has over you. You don’t want him to see how much you still want him.  

You can feel his eyes on you, burning into you, it makes your skin crawl. 

You take deep breaths before you look back up at him. 

“Don’t you have better things to do on a Thursday night?” You scoff. You know damn well that he never worked on homeworks or assignments when he was still with you, he had ‘better’ things to do. You were the one that did all these things for him. 

“Can we just work on this?” He sighs.

You roll your eyes and shrug, “yeah.” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes, he didn’t think that it would be that easy to convince you to work with him. For weeks, you wouldn’t even look at him, you wouldn’t even glance into his direction. He figured that it was because of how hurt you were after the breakup but now he begins to doubt that that is why you stopped acknowledging him. 

“Come on then,” you mumble as you make your way out of the kitchen, brushing past him. He nods, looking down at the floor, he turns around and follows you into the hallway, turning the light off on the way out. 

It feels weird to be back in your house, it feels so familiar yet so… strange. There isn’t much in your room that has changed since the last time he had been in here– only the lack of his things is noticeable to him. The bottle of his cologne that used to be on your dresses is gone and so are the collection of polaroids. He frowns, a weird feeling tugs at his heart. You got rid of everything. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He looks around the room that haunts his dreams– a piece of clothing that neither belongs to you or him is draped over the chair by your desk. It’s a black denim jacket. Clenching his jaw, he wonders if it belongs to Billy. The thought of you wearing his clothes, of you being with him makes him so.. angry. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You mumble without looking back at him. You are already back on your bed with your notebook in your lap. He stares at you, the moment feels too familiar. He remembers climbing up to your window one night, he wanted to surprise you with flowers. You were sitting on your bed just like you do now but instead of the notebook you had a magazine on your lap and you were wearing pajamas. You looked so cute. 

“We gotta settle on a topic,” you say and raise your head to look at him. 

Steve’s brows are still furrowed, he still stares at you. He feels confused, irritated and a little hurt. You seem so.. okay. You look at him and talk to him as though nothing ever happened. Are you okay without him? Are you happier without him? 

He blinks, snapping himself out of his thoughts, he walks towards your desk, he pulls out the chair and sits down. 

“Yeah.. what do you wanna write about?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, we could totally write an essay about snakes, there’s one in my room, right now.” 

His lips part and his face scrunches up in confusion, it takes him a moment to realize what you mean. His shoulders slump and he scoffs, “very funny.”

“I know,” you smirk. 

“We could write about basketball–” 

Your scoff cuts him off, causing him to roll his eyes. 

“Or about cheerleading–”

“Are you crazy?”

“I think you know more about cheerleading than I do, you were the one who convinced me to do it after all,” you say, tilting your head at him, “remember?”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs, he nods at your words and clenches his jaw, “yeah..”

There is so much tension in your room, his presence makes you angry. 

After the initial shock subsided and the sadness turned into anger, you began to curse him for what he did, especially when you found out that he had kissed her while he was still with you. That is something you will never forgive him, the lies and the cheating. 

The anger makes you feel stronger, it keeps the sadness away, for the most part, at least. 

“How about we do something more classy– although, you don’t do classy, so…” 

Steve rolls his eyes at your words, “not like you do it either,” he mumbles. 

You snort, not showing him the anger or the annoyance that you are feeling right now. You tilt your head and stare at him in question.

“I mean, given that you fucked Billy Hargrove out of all people,” he says with a looks of distaste on his face. 

What? 

You almost laugh in his face but you hold yourself back. 

He eyes your expression slowly, waiting for a reaction. He expects you to scoff, to look caught, to look embarrassed, to blush or to deny it all– just the way you always denied your attraction to Billy every time he brought it up but he gets nothing from you. Absolutely nothing and it only fuels his anger even more. The burning in his chest and stomach worsens when you look at him with a straight face. 

You look at him for a while, not moving, not saying anything, he can’t even read the look on your face. After a while, you sigh and look down at your notebook, “so how about we write an essay about Romeo and Juliet?” You ask, “you know, since it’s the only book you actually ever touched.” 

His brows knit together, his cheeks grow red, “are you not gonna say anything?” 

His irrational anger amuses you a little but you don’t show it. 

You look at him through hooded eyes, not raising your head, “I just did?” 

He rolls his eyes and stands up, walking towards you, “I mean about Billy.” 

“What about him?”

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks. 

His eyes flash with desperation. He wants to know, he needs to know. 

How ironic it is to see him beg for an answer when he has no right to even get one. He never gave you the truth so why should you? You are not his anymore.

His eyes are pleading. Why does he want to know? Why does he even care? He has the girl he truly loves, why should it matter what you do or who you do it with? 

“So, I’m not sure if you remember the story but in Romeo and Juliet, there’s obviously that tragic ending so–”

“Y/n,” he sighs. 

You close your mouth and glare at him, you used to love hearing him say your name, now you hate it. 

“Would you rather write an essay about Billy Hargrove?” You ask calmly, giving him a fake smile. 

“No,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Good, cause I don’t either.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs in frustration, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“We could write about pride and prejudice.”

You lift your chin and look at him in surprise. You used to reread that book all the time, he knows it’s your favorite– he used to steal it out of your hands, reading some of Mr.Darcy’s lines in a mocking way, back then it made you laugh. 

“You didn’t even read it,” you murmur. 

“I can read it now,” he shrugs, “you still have it, right?” 

“We got a week to finish the essay, Steve. It’ll take you days to even finish and understand that book so don’t even bother–”

“No,” he says stubbornly, “I want to.”

You throw your hands up, “why?” 

‘Cause you wanted to choose the book for your next essay, you told him that weeks before.. her. ‘Cause you love it so much– or used to love it. 

He doesn’t look at you, he stares at the ground and shrugs, “just let me do it, please,” he says, “I can get started on the essay while reading it.” 

You try to figure him out. Why is this so important to him? He used to make fun of that book, of you reading so much. He would laugh whenever you offered to read it for him and now he suddenly wants to read it himself? 

Sighing, you get up and walk towards your bookshelf. You bend down and reach for the book before you turn back to face him. 

It feels weird to see him back in your room– a place he spent so many nights in, a place he used to kiss you in, a place he used to touch you in. 

“Here.” 

You hold it out to him, keeping distance between the two of you as though you are scared to come near him. His fingertips brush yours when he takes the book from you, warmth spreads across his skin and he finds himself looking at your face. 

You quickly pull your hand back and cross your arms over your chest, avoiding his eyes, “well, you should probably get started then,” you mumble, nudging your chin into the direction of your door, subtly kicking him out. 

“Yeah,” he breathes and looks back down, eying the cover of your beloved book, “what are you doing tomorrow night?” 

Just leave, please. You think to yourself. 

“Why?”

“Well, we could start working on it tomorrow,” he offers. 

“Yeah sure.” You don’t want to work with him, you don’t want to see him but agreeing to it will get him out of your house sooner, “I’ll call you.” 

“Okay.” 

You can feel his eyes on you, he is staring and it makes you want to both scream and cry. Leave, just leave. 

“I’ll get going.” He steps away, taking one last look at you before he turns around, “good night, y/n.”

You don’t say anything back, you stay silent, refusing to even look at him. You don’t notice the way he halts in his tracks when his eyes fall on the picture on your wall, the only one left of him. Steve knows that you didn’t keep it up because of him but it still makes something inside of him burn. There’s no other reminders of him left, only this one. You could have cut him out but you didn’t, you kept him there. His eyes soften and he glances at you. You are still standing there in the same spot, with your arms crossed and your gaze stuck to the floor. The urge to– no. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to leave. 

Your fingernails dig into your arms, you bite your lip as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. The lump in your throat begins to grow. Why did he show up? You hear him walking down the stairs and it feels like forever until he reaches the door. The sob begins to threaten to escape. 

You slowly make your way towards your bedroom door, shutting it quietly. You press your back against it and look up at the ceiling. Tears roll down your cheeks the minute you let your guard down. 

“I hate you, Steve Harrington.”

-

Cold water dribbles down on him, making goosebumps rise up on his skin, he shivers at the feeling but sighs in content when he feels himself getting more energized again. Basketball practice tired him more than usual but that was probably because he stayed up all night, reading pride and prejudice. To his surprise, he ended up liking it more than he thought. Though he can’t stand Darcy for some reason. 

Another thing that kept him up was you. Your indifference, your lack of emotions, the anger and the sadness he had seen in your eyes the last time you had looked at him was gone. There is nothing in your eyes now, just simply nothing. It shouldn’t bother him, in fact, it should make him feel relieved to know that you are not hurting anymore but somehow it hurts him to know that you just don’t care anymore. 

He didn’t love you but you loved him, at least that’s what he always believed. 

Did you realize that you never loved him either? 

“What’s wrong, Harrington? Did you realize that you’re a shit player?” 

He can’t even help but sigh in annoyance. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. He waited until everyone was done showering, not feeling like interacting with anyone, he didn’t know that Billy was still around, if he knew, he would’ve been the first in the shower. 

He opens his eyes and glares at him. 

Billy looks at him with a smirk on his face, he turns the water on and closes his eyes as he steps under the stream. 

Steve decides to ignore him, turning his head away from him, he reaches for his shampoo with shaky hands. Just the presence of Billy is enough for him to shake out of anger. He hates him so much. 

“Heard you were at y/n’s house last night.” 

At that, Steve tenses up. How and why does he know? He keeps his eyes down as he begins to wash his hair. 

“Yeah, so?”

Billy chuckles, taking a moment to reply. 

“What were you doing there?” 

“How’s that any of your business?” Steve mumbles in annoyance. 

Billy shrugs, narrowing his eyes at him, “when assholes like you go to their ex-girlfriends house it’s usually to fuck,” he says, smirking. 

Steve shakes his head, “we’re working on an essay together.” 

“Mhm.” 

To his surprise, Billy keeps quiet for the remaining time. Steve quickly finishes up and leaves the shower after wrapping a towel around his waist, wanting to escape him as quickly as he can. 

Steve can’t stand to be in the same room as him for longer than a minute, he always felt that way about him but especially after hearing those rumors about you and Billy from Tommy and Carol. It still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Back in the locker room, he scrunches his face up in disgust, it smells like sweat, too much deodorant and cologne in here. No one is around anymore, everyone has already left. 

Steve reaches for his dirty clothes and stuffs them into his duffle bag before he starts getting dressed. He puts on a pair of boxers and his jeans and reaches for his belt when Billy walks back in. 

Steve’s jaw feels tense from all the clenching but he can’t stop it. Every time he sees him, he thinks of you and him together. He thinks of you being touched by him, of you being kissed by him, of you being– god, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the thought of you being touched by Billy Hargrove or any other man for that matter.

He knows that there is a huge chance that you aren’t with him or with anyone else but he can’t be too sure. 

“Did you fuck her?” 

Billy smirks when the question finally tumbles out of Steve’s mouth, he knows that he has been dying to ask. He stays silent and puts his clothes on instead, taking his time with it. 

Steve puts his sweater over his head and turns around to face Billy, who is already staring at him smugly as he dries his hair with the white towel. 

Steve’s nostrils flare and he feels like throwing a punch at him already, he clenches his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. 

“Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?” Billy smirks. 

He stiffens a little, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to do what he so badly wants to do. 

“I don’t know the answer, that’s why I’m asking.” 

“Why do you want to know?” Billy chuckles as he tilts his head to the side, he throws the towel back on the bench and puts his white tank top on, “you dumped her.” 

Billy walks towards him slowly, he looks confident, he always does. He looks directly into his eyes, the smugness remaining on his face. 

“Let me tell you something.” 

Steve drops his arms to his sides and puffs out his chest, raising his chin slightly. His heartbeat quickens, not out of fear but out of anticipation. 

“When you came to school with your new little plaything, she left. I found her behind the school, she was crying.” 

Nothing good will come out of his mouth next, Steve already knows it. The thought of you crying over him does little to mend the anger in his chest. 

“Wanna know what I did?” Billy asks, raising his brows. He licks his lips and grins a little as he steps closer. 

Steve nudges his chin up. 

“I took her home and I fucked her so hard that she forgot that you ever existed. In fact, I think a good fuck was all it needed,” Billy chuckles darkly as he looks him up and down, “‘cause you clearly never fucked her good enough.” 

Steve is seething, burning and trembling with anger. The smirk on the blond’s face is only fueling his anger. 

“Now I’m not the only one,” Billy smirks at the angry look on Steve’s face. His cheeks are red, the brown in his eyes vanished completely, all there is now is blackness. He is not just angry, he is in rage and Billy is loving it. “A little birdie told me that she’s been sneaking around with one of the stoners, so..” Billy laughs, turning around with satisfaction in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t know whether to throw a punch, to scream at him or at himself for feeling this way. He wants to throw up at the thought of you fucking Billy, of you sneaking around with some loser. 

Billy grabs his stuff, he puts on his brown leather jacket. He can sense Steve’s anger and it makes him feel more satisfied than ever. 

“Let me tell you a little secret, Steve. Girls like her, the ones who get left behind by their daddies, they’re a little damaged but they keep going. They still got a little hope left, but the moment they get their heart broken by some asshole they fall in love with, they’re damaged beyond repair. Even if you come crawling back to her and she ends up being stupid enough to take your sorry ass back, she will never be the same again. You crushed her poor little heart.”

Steve is breathing heavily, his knuckles are white from how hard he is clenching his fist. He would love nothing more than to finally throw that punch but he holds himself back, knowing that it will only make things even worse. 

Billy slaps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes, he chuckles, “loosen up, King Steve, go and get your little geek. I’ll take care of y/n, I think she’s better off with me anyways. At least she feels something when I fuck her.” 

And with that, Billy leaves him standing, knowing the damage he caused, it leaves him more satisfied than ever, to know that he messed with him— to know what it takes to mess with him.

next part

-

only tagging friends!

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

[silliestbillyinsillytown]

whiny!stephen glass x fem reader

warnings; sexual content, needy stephen, no clear sub/dom dynamics, nipple play, creampie, size!kink if u squint, hickeys, slightly subby stephen, teasing, overstimulation,

”hey y/n? if i invited you over and all we did was okay monopoly would you come?” he spoke in your doorway right after getting up to leave your office, he was just asking you to check up on his work before he submitted it. “oh, um i would really like that stephen.” you flashed him a shy smile before quickly looking back at your papers scattered across your desk, trying not to make eye contact for too long, you were scared he would notice how hard you were trying to keep your voice steady. stephen was always such a sweet guy. he made you very a little nervous, the way you could ever so slightly feel his warm breath against your neck when he peered over at your computer, or the way he was constantly complimenting you and praising you for your ‘captivating’ writing, or the way he stared a little too hard at you during meetings.

“well.. are you free tonight?” he spoke staring at his notepad, unintentionally mirroring you. you wondered for a short second if you made him nervous too.. “oh yeah, i am actually.” “great wanna come over maybe around 6? oh that’s around dinner time isn’t it.. i could make dinner for us as well?” he spoke in an shy tone, like he had thought out every word down to the syllable. “oh yeah that would be great steve!” “i was thinking i’d maybe make creamy pesto pasta, or um if you don’t like pasta i could make something else! anything you want..” oh god he’d really fucked up this time he knows it! you probably hate pasta that was such a stu-“no no, i would love pasta.” your sweet tone melted away his worried instantly, leaving a warm feeling behind in his chest.

i could hardly wait for work to end today, although i felt i could probably keel over and die from how nervous i was. i felt like a teenager again waiting for my first date with a cute boy i had a crush on. i spent all the couple hours i had before going to stephens taking my time getting ready, showering, reapplying my makeup, straightening my hair, picking out an outfit. usually i pass out as soon as i get home from work, getting some much needed rest but i was wide awake with anticipation today.

i walked up the steps to stephens door, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm myself down, it worked, kind of.. i wrang the doorbell and stephen answered very quickly, i smiled at the thought of him waiting like a puppy by the window waiting for my car to pull in.

“hey y/n! come on in!” he said stepping out of the way for you to come inside, the smell hit you as soon as he opened the door, an amazing smell, enough to make you starved instantly. “stephen that smells amazing.” “oh yeah the foods nearly ready, i really hope you like it it’s my moms recipe.” he spoke leading you into the kitchen.

your nervousness had melted away after dinner with stephen. he was just so perfect, he was so intently listening to every word you said, it felt like you had an endless amount of things to talk about when you were with stephen, endless laughs. you just loved seeing his wide smile and the way his eyes scrunched up while he looked you at you, just a simple smile was enough to make you squirm. he was just so gorgeous.

he led you into his well furnished living room. family photos, candles, his endless amount of books, his home had such a safe aura that really reminded you of your childhood home. he pulled out monopoly from under his coffee table, you shuddered a bit as his hand brush led against your thigh as he sat up. you really felt embarrassed at the warm feeling something so small and unnoticed gave you. “i wanna be the little shoe!” you yelled as soon as you saw it, picking it up immediately. “geez, okay.” he laughed at your reaction. god you were so beautiful he couldn’t help thinking as he stared a little too long at your face, your shiny hair that just smelled so good, your gorgeous eyes and lips, and he could see the tinniest but of clevage in your shirt but trust me it was enough to make him feel something.

you noticed his staring after a second and it instantly embarrassed you, had you done something stupid? did you have food on ur face??

he leaned in before you could even process it, lifting your chin up with his thumb and index finger before planting a soft kiss against your lips. you thought your head might actually explode, barely processing what had happened before he pulled away. “i’m really sorry i just did that without thinking oh god you can leave if you want i didn’t-“ before he could finish you pulled him back in for another kiss, instantly silencing him, warmth spread through your whole body making you feel a light headed. he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck, lightly slipped his tongue into your mouth begging to taste you as he pulled you flush against his chest, he could feel your tits pressed up against him and he groaned ever so slightly into your mouth at the feeling of his dick throbbing in his pants begging to feel you around him.

your kisses became more intense and passionate gripping his soft hair in your manicured fingers. he started to lean back onto you trapping you between his body and the couch, gently reaching his hand up to rest on your waist. heat pulsed from your core all the way through your body as you felt his bulge press against your stomach, you broke the kiss for only a moment when you started to lift up your shirt discarding it on the ground, leaving you in only your skirt and bra. he reconnected the kiss before starting to run his hand over your stomach and up up up until he reached your boob, gently pulling the fabric down just enough for your breast to pop out.

he broke the kiss again as he started peppering kisses down your neck before he finally reached you exposed breast, gently sucking and kissing at your nipple before tugging the other side of your bra down. “fuck stephen.” you whimper gasping as he nips at your other nipple. “oh i’m sorry i’m sorry did i hurt you?!” he spoke instantly pulling his mouth away from your chest with a guilty look in his face. “no baby.. it felt good” you smiled at his reaction, he sighed in relief before attaching himself back onto your chest, instead focusing on peppering your tits and collarbone with hickeys. he loved seeing you all marked up.. something about it made his dick throb, just knowing he was the one to leave them on your perfect skin.

“could i please touch you? please?” he nearly begged (as if you would ever refuse him) as he started to run his hand down your stomach nearing the waistband of your skirt, toying with the little bow right below your belly button. “of course stephen..” you smiled at the dazed look in his eyes. he kissed you again as he gently slipped his hand into your skirt.. then into your panties. you whimper into his mouth as he brushes a finger against your clit, barely touching it. heat pulsed through your whole body as your felt your tummy flutter, dizzy and fucked out as you started to beg into his mouth for more clawing at his clothed back with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. stephen thought he could actually be dreaming at this point, you were just so so perfect, absolutely made for him in every way. he could cum in his pants just by hearing your small whimpers and the way you beg for him to touch you and the way you writhe underneath his broad body.

“please stephen stop teasing me.. just touch me” he replayed your words in his head as he gave in, slipping a finger down to feel just how wet you are. fucking soaked. slipping his finger into his mouth as he stood up and ripped your panties off, discarding them on the floor just as he had done for the rest of your clothes. he was tired of waiting, he needed to taste you right. now.

as he sat between your legs before he spoke, “can i taste you princess? please” “yeah.. i need it stephen” you said mindlessly, you weren’t lying either, you thought you might cry if he didn’t touch you already. he gently began kissing and sucking marks all over your thighs before wrapping his arms around you thighs to keep you still. he licked a stripe up your pussy, before planting a kiss right on your clit. “fuck stephen!” you moaned out as he started to lick and suck your sensitive clit, rubbing his finger against your tight entrance. he started to rub against the couch trying to seek any relief, he was so hard it hurt. he moaned into your pussy as he continued his assault on your clit gently pushing a finger into your hole. “stephen please stop teasing me i need you.. please.” you begged as you dug your nails into his scalp, pushing his head deeper into your cunt. he didn’t mean to tease you he just loved hearing you beg.. he knows you needed it so he gave it to you, even if he would like to hear you beg all night.

he pushed his finger all the way into your cunt, continuing to suck and kiss your clit. god they were just so much bigger then your own fingers, curling his finger upwards to his that spot that makes you cry out, and oh it did. you couldn’t keep yourself quiet as he added another finger, as soon as he did that you knew you wouldn’t last long, the hand in his hair had become a death grip, unable to hold back your loud moans you felt that familiar feeling come back to you quickly. “stephen.. i’m gonna come” you said in a pained voice as tears welled in your eyes. “oh fuck oh fuck!” your body began to writhe as he continued to pump his fingers in and out quickly, making sure you ride out your orgasm. or at least you thought.. but even as you stilled and the overwhelming pleasure went away it was quickly replaced with pain as he continued even as you had finished your orgasm, “stephen stop it hurts.” you whimpered out, but no. he wouldn’t. he needed you to cum again. “please just one more.. you can do that for me can’t you?” he spoke into your pussy quickly before returning the same pace as before, holding you down as you writhe.

but the pain was slowly dissolved as the pleasure returned, your moans had turned into whimpers and cries as you felt yourself getting close again, fucking music to his ears. ”i’m gonna cum again stephen” you said in a quiet tone just above a whisper, barely able to make any noise other then a whimper. “cmon sweetheart you can do it” he mumbled into your pussy as your second orgasm took over your whole body, all you could think about was the pleasure in between your legs and him.

he licked up your release from his fingers, savouring the taste of *you* on his tongue. he returned above you, placing a deep kiss on your lips as you still recover from your intense orgasm panting and shaking trying to catch your breath. “please stephen i want you inside me” you begged as he smiled against your lips, his painful erection still evident in his pants. “are you sure sweetheart? you still seem like you need some time to recover” he asked in a genuine voice, you can’t get over how sweet this man was in front of you, where has he been all your life? you had never had a man eat you out so well, give you such a mind numbing orgasm. but stephen was a ladies man, always so focused on your happiness, and pleasure.

“please stephen.. i need it” you said as you began unbuttoning his shirt working your was down down down, revealing his skinny and broad frame, and his cute little happy trail that went down to his.. there’s no need to imagine it anymore, you finally get to see it, touch it, feel it, have it. you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, planting kisses on his collarbone and chest, running your tongue over his nipple lightly, stephen sucked in a harsh breath at this a dazed expression on his gorgeous face. their sensitive i’ll remember that. you thought to yourself before making you way down, you undid his belt, then the button on his pants. bulge so evident in his loose pants, the size surprised you just from looking at it through his clothes, he stopped you and pulled his pants down leaving him in just his boxers before sitting back between your legs, you could hardly breath from anticipation.

he rested both your legs to rest against his shoulder, giving him access to finally remove your small pleated skirt. he soaked in the beautiful sight of your fully naked body, from the expression on his face you would’ve thought he was looking at a beautiful piece of art in a museum, you felt slightly embarrassed by his staring but you resisted your urge to cover up. “your so so beautiful. every part of you if just perfect.” he said shyly, you can’t believe he would still avoid eye contact even after giving you the best head of your life but he couldn’t help it.. you made him nervous and he was always so unsure of himself, scared of saying the wrong thing and making you hate him forever.

he started to pull his boxers down feeling bad that he wasn’t fully naked yet, you heart dropped as you saw it.. you’d never ever guess a shy guy like stephen to be so big, it was maybe 7.5 inches? and so so thick. he bashfully stroked it once before returning above you to plant more kisses on your lips and neck, your head was spinning feeling it press against your thigh. it twitched slightly as it touched your leg, he whimpered like a girl feeling his dick pulse. “could i please?” he said this in such a whiny voice, how could you refuse him?

“of course baby go ahead.” you said reaching your hands to touch his stomach as he eased the tip in. a look of pain covered his face, his eyebrows knitting together and his mouth slightly agape. he slides in inch by inch, groaning as he works his way in. the sting sets in immediately, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and you’ve never had anyone as big as him.. “fuck your so big stephen” you cry as you claw at his arms that are rested comfortably on the curve of your waist. “i’m so sorry baby i know it hurts, do you want me to stop?” he strokes your hair as he stills inside you waiting for your response. “no no please i just.. take it slow okay?” he nods as he continues to ease in. the look of pain returns to his face as he tried to keep going slow, resisting the urge to push ur legs up to ur ears and fuck you senseless.

he looked so gorgeous like this, his adams apple bobbing slightly and he swallowed. “your so beautiful steve.” you think aloud and a look of surprise then a boyish smile covered his face looking down at where your bodies meet, he’s beautiful? there’s no way you really though that.. no, you were the beautiful one.

“really?” stephen said a bit above a whisper, hardly heard over small pants as he continued to work his way in and out of you. “of course sweet boy.” he whimpered at this small comment his head falling down to the crook of your neck, hands finding a spot to rest along the curves of your body. he continues to thrust into you, taking his time to feel you.

“fuck..-princess” he groaned out speeding up slightly, unable to hold back any longer. digging his fingernails into the dip in your waist, forcefully holding you still. planting open mouth kisses all over your neck, sucking hickeys and leaving gentle bites all over your chest. he rested his hand right down on top of your stomach pushing down slightly. “do you fucking feel that? can you feel me in your stomach?” his dirty talk stung your ears, such an unfamiliar sound coming from stephens mouth.

but oh fuck. yeah you could. whimpers and words of encouragement keep spilling from your mouth, you can’t help but clench around him every single time he moves inside you. “your such a good boy for me, aren’t you steve?” your are babbling at this point, slurring your words, do fucked out you can barely think. but that’s okay, because when your with stephen you don’t have to think. he’ll take care of you.

“yeah-fuck.. y/n” he almost sounds like he’s crying when he says this, fingers finding your clit as he starts going faster, pushing your legs over his shoulders as he pounds you. your legs begin to shake as you hold onto him desperately, that warm ache returning back to your stomach. “steve.-fuck im gonna cum” you cried out into his ear. “can i please please cum inside you princess? please you’ll let me right?” he perks right up as soon as he hears you say this, looking you right in the eyes while he begs.

“i..yeah steve yeah go ahead..” his whimpers turn into cries at this point, his thrusts become sloppy and random, but that feeling in your stomach only becomes stronger, gradually building to your climax.

you can’t help but shake and hold onto steve desperately, legs and arms desperately wrapping around him, needing him as humanly close as possible. you wished you could just merge into one being right now. stephen continues to whimper and cry into your neck as he finally came, a warm feeling floods your inside. feeling so full and content.

a/n: kinda hate this wow.. i haven’t written anything in a long time so i’m sorry if this is bad LOLLL but i hope you enjoyed regardless. lemme know what else you would like to see for stephen glass or any other of hayden christensens characters!

#anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe smut #stephen glass smut #stephen glass #shattered glass #anakin skywalker #star wars #sam monroe #darth vader #smut #stephen glass x reader #anakin x reader #anakin smut

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / fanfiction aus 𓈒✳︎🏡

[take the quiz here to see which one you get!]

✰ MARK — childhood friends to lovers!au

ever since you've basically known your name, mark has been the boy next door. there was the cheeky, red letters of "lee" painted on the mailbox, the windows were adorned with the same coloured curtains, and the same doormat has been sitting in front of their door for ages. you have loved mark ever since you two have met. there wasn't a day where you wouldn't think of him, and there hasn't been a day when you haven't loved him. it was like a vicious circle which you couldn't get out of, because those stupid feelings would destroy the oh so precious friendship of yours, and you cannot let that happen, right? i mean, that's what you've thought for far too long, since this friendship meant more to you, than the fragile feeling of love - you didn't want it to get to the point where you would rather spit on each other, than talk it out. maybe that's why you pushed him away from yourself? maybe you just did that because you weren't too sure of your own peace of mind? no matter what, you knew the decision itself was wrong, only to realize it way too late. damaging the friendship and crying yourself to sleep was all your fault, after all, being way too proud and scared, stupid even; when you came back to the town where you two grew up, the least thing you wanted was to meet mark lee, mainly because you wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes after all these happened. but you had to, so soon you even got a little surprised. it's been a while since the last time you have been home, your bedroom seemed way too unfamiliar at that point, just like the vhs tape placed directly in the middle of your bed. one which you haven't seen yet. it didn't have a title, the white label completely empty as you picked it up. you were a little bit cautious when placing it in the system, waiting for it to play whatever is on it, not having such large imagination to expect anything. it was a home video montage, full of videos of you and mark: playing together, getting ready for the first day of school, going to the movies, the way you two got engaged in middle school as a joke, and the omnious day of prom... you got teary eyed, with one thing on your mind - you have to go and save whatever's left now. maybe you're not too late.

✰ RENJUN — soulmate!au

life had been pretty much grey and dreary until you found The One. the other half everyone had been so obsessed to find. you were never big on all this stuff, because you were convinced you'd be able to live as a single half for you whole life, and don't need anyone else to feel complete. deep inside you knew that all of this is bullshit, truly, and all that was coming out of you was true bitterness and constantly ongoing unsuccessful confessions, making you believe in your delusions. with every passing second, you had to see people find their other half, while you were left to deal with the grey world you were left in, not as a choice but as fate instead. you felt like a loser, a big zero, who doesn't even deserve a soulmate. you thought you were destined to die alone, maybe compensate with something of brilliance: be a composer or a singer, write or paint something extraordinary, lord knows what, just something of importance! you were looking for yourself in every corner of the world, not for a lover or a fling, not for an other half, fully ignoring the law of attraction. it might have been some reverse psychological trick, effecting it all. and this may have been the reason behind why you had to leave that horribly boring theatre play, sneaking out and bumping into The One, who handed back your accidentally dropped bag, slowly looking into your eyes. he might have worked at the theater as he was wearing a name tag on his elegant shirt - huang renjun, it said. but it doesn't even matter, because his eyes were brown! brown! not grey, brown! everything cleared up. you did find the half - with brown eyes and a smile so bright.

✰ JENO — coffee shop!au

it was pretty much bittersweet to step foot in your favourite café: it was getting dark out there, and although the rain has stopped pouring, you got absolutley soaked to the core along the way there, rain replacing the tears on your face by then. your hair was sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, your body trembling without stopping, as you entered. the bell placed above the entrance was ringing lightly, gathering everyone's attention to you, although there wasn't too much people there except for the baristas, maybe two wandering souls, working on their laptops or reading in a cozy corner. well, maybe if it wasn't for getting dumped literal minutes ago, you wouldn't be here either, but it was still the most reasonable choice compared to going to a club or a ruin bar, gettig incredibly drunk, Plus! a good espresso might be able to clear the fog in your head, which you were in need of during this stupidly stressing period of life. you expected hyuck to greet you by the coffee machine, grinning ear to ear, as he always does when you visit between two lectures, but there was a completely new face behind the counter. it's been a long time since you've last seen a new employee here. his smile was sweet and rather warm, eyes conveying a sense of concern as you took one step closer, rubbing your eyes while getting your purse out of your pocket - you discreetly looked at his name tag, right on his black apron: lee jeno. whatta name... by then, you were way to hopeless to try and guess how the day would go, but life had to surprise you, fate deciding funnily against all odds: next to your cup of coffee, there was a napkin, hiding a telephone number on it, messily written down with a short message as well: "would you go out on a date with me, darling? :)"

✰ HAECHAN — rivals to lovers!au

lee donghyuck's name rushed through the hallways of your music academy just as quietly as a whisper, and you never knew why was it all like that ever since you've stepped foot into the school. you couldn't even hide the way too obvious rolls of your eyes every time you heard it. lee donghyuck was one of the biggest prodigies at the academy, no one could even be considered as a rival for him, this is mainly why he was such a big living legend amongst the students - you couldn't even hide how annoyed this made you, especially because he made sure you knew this ever since you two were little. music played a huge part in both of your lives, and somehow, you two always seemed to be at each other's throat, the first place at being the best always changing between the two of you. you could never get rid of each other either; your dad, always being so positive, once said, on your way to the academy sometime between sophomore and junior year, that the only reason behind this is that you two are equally good at what you're doing. you were pretty much skeptic for the longest of time, and felt as if you were destined to be the forever second next to him. you've had enough of always bumping into walls, since hyuck was the one who could stand at the first place ever so proudly. in kindergarten, in middle school, and even in high school, every. god damn. time. and that infuriating smile was plastered all upon his face even when you two were asked to not perform alone on the annual charity gala of your academy - you two had to perform something phenomenal, putting the childish jarring aside, growing out of the silly phase of hating each other, which was all made up by you, and you only, pushing the poor boy away from you. the boy who had always been so obsessed with you, utterly and completely. he won this time again, isn't it right?

✰ JAEMIN — photographer!au

when jaemin brought up the idea of making the last parts of his portfolio with you (which basically means about you), you were a little bit skeptic at first. you loved jaemin dearly, since he was a really understanding friend, but... you were simply terrified of cameras. you didn't really like the idea of being captured at all, you hated looking back at yourself on pictures taken of you, and you couldn't even think about how high quality his pictures would be with that hyper super machine, focused on all the little flawed details of your face that you absolutely despised. no, you couldn't even bear the idea of this whole project, and you stood by this decision of yours, jaemin waiting patiently the whole time, not pushing it too hard. since he wanted to work with you no matter what, giving up on his plan wouldn't be too typical of him - the fight didn't last long but it was pretty heated, him highlighting so many known things that needed to be said finally: it's childish how you reflect on yourself, and your delusions stop you from way too many things. the way he said straight into your face how beautiful he thinks you are, inside and outside, and that he wants the whole world to know how ethereal you are, made you tear up a little - especially when he said his heart breaks every time you speak so lowly of yourself. he truly thinks you're the modern manifestation of aphrodite, that you are his own venus, the muse of him, someone he can adore... that he's way too in love with you to let go of this, and-; the kiss you gave him was short, yet gave him exact answers. answers to hundreds and thousand of unsaid questions he kept hidden in himself for years and years on end.

✰ CHENLE — blind date!au

you clearly didn’t brace yourself for this whole fiasco proposed by donghyuck himself, foolishly believing his reasonings behind how perfect of a matchmaker he is. of course you knew that what he way saying was partly stupid, plus you were like a seventy percent sure he wasn't even sober when he set up a blind date during that omnious frat party he wasn't invited to. you didn't have to worry or anything, that's just how you were - overly anxious of such things, even if you weren't meeting a psychopath. you were only a bit vary of the awkwardness this whole new experience would bring, both of you rushing home way too soon from the date, trying to forget about it as soon as possible. these misconceptions about how the night would go stayed straight until you stopped in front of the restaurant to wait for your - then late already - date. you were a little nervous he stood you up, and you got yourself into the most beautiful piece of clothing from you wardrobe for nothing, but it was worth it, looking back at it, as zhong chenle arrived and you two simply just... clicked? automatically? not to mention you two decided to leave the place after the hors d'oeuvre, since you both found the place a little too fancy at that moment, going to a simple ice cream parlor instead, taking a walk in the park after, talking about anything and everything that came to mind: family, politics, movies and the most embarrassing memories from your childhood came up too, as you couldn't help but laugh at how chenle dropped his ice cream cone on the ground, while he simultaneously promised you that he wouldn't drop the cone on the next date - and you smiled, so happily.

✰ JISUNG — secret admirer!au

you were head over heels for jisung and his undying love for dancing. but, thinking a bit deeper about it, while writing that foolish, teenager like love letter for him, forced into the role of his secret admirer, there were much more of those things that made you feel head over heels for the boy: he showed you what persistence was, he spent the whole of his youth with you, and he wasn't afraid to spend the rest of his life with you, helping you out anytime you're in need of it, since he couldn't not do that as you "best friend". he couldn't be evil with you, he was never able to leave you and he couldn't even envision a future in which you weren't by his side. but the border he made up between the two of you, was never crossed - you two were friends, not more, not less. you were so torn deep inside, as you were helpless, being in the never ending limbo you would rather push forward, but he kept on tugging it backwards; the idea of writing letters was originally from your mother, who had enough of your obvious agony. she was positive you would write every feeling of yours out, making it easier as time goes by. their number kept growing, however, one letter becoming a dozen soon enough, maybe even more in the meantime, while not writing a name on any of them, referring to yourself only as a mere secret admirer. they suddenly disappeared from the bottom of your drawer one day, though, realizing way too late that the ringing phone in your pocket was in fact park jisung, the picture of him taking up the screen of your mobile - did he know?

#nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct #nct dream headcanons #nct imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream stories #nct dream writings #mark lee headcanons #mark lee stories #mark lee x reader #renjun x reader #renjun imagines #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #haechan x you #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #chenle imagines #chenle x reader #chenle scenarios #chenle fluff #jisung x reader #jisung imagines

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[ghxstic]

⸝⸝ — YOU'RE MINE NOW .

⸝⸝ A/N :: serial killer! toji makes me feel some type of way <3 5.2k words.

⸝⸝ SYNOPSIS :: you're a college student, one dark night, the time was passing by normally, that is until infamous serial killer, toji fushiguro, breaks into your house with the intent to kill. you manage to run, but not for long, what will you do to save yourself?

⸝⸝ C/W :: dub-con, hunter and prey dynamics, mentions of murder / violence, breeding, mating press, slapping, degrading, mentions of impregnation, kidnapping, cheating, etc .

⸝⸝ TAGLIST :: @devmimi @luvbladez @snake-titan @zannivrs @fatenpara @lilithlunas @fartwithsplinters @beebopsalad @chaoticevilbakugo @getoswhore

a soft sigh escaped your lips as your eyes gazed over your notes, studying for a midterm at night was always a daunting task. a cup filled with coffee sat beside you on the desk, the only thing keeping you awake, sure the only thing coffee brought was a false sense of alertness, but it still kept you relatively awake. 

rubbing your forehead, you let out a small groan, for how long have you been studying? you started at around five thirty in the afternoon and now it's eleven at night, seven hours? you needed a break, desperately. 

standing up and taking your mug with you, you sat on your bed, placing the mug on the nightstand before laying down, your muscles tensed as your back got used to the new position, you have been hunched over your notes for hours now. making a small mental note, you needed to fix your posture. 

taking out your phone, the home screen flashed brightly, showing off your notifications, you had a handful of text messages, some from your friends, and some from your boyfriend. seeing his name on your screen made you smile.

nuzzling onto the soft pillow, you opened your phone, tapping in your passcode quickly before opening your boyfriend's messages. 

' hi baby, are you still studying? '

' remember to not overwork yourself, love you. '

your face felt warm reading his messages, gentle butterflies filling your stomach, clicking the keyboard, you were quick to type up a response. 

' hi! i just finished studying, my brain feels like mush. but coffee always comes to the rescue! how are you? '

you didn't know if he was awake at this hour, it was almost midnight after all, maybe he had already fallen asleep waiting for your reply, which made your heartache from guilt, maybe a bit of anxiety. unconsciously, your lips caught up teeth, chewing on it as you stared at your screen. but the message was opened, the little ' read ' coming at the bottom, which surged a new sense of alertness, he was typing. 

' i'm good, baby. i hope your study session went well, i know you're going to do amazing on this test. '

again butterflies filled your stomach, your hand went to your mouth as a small noise left your lips, a small squeal, he was always so sweet, constantly praising you and making you feel loved, it was like a dream come true for you. he had to be your soulmate, no other man has made you feel this loved, and truly, you have never fallen for someone so hard before. he was everything you ever wanted, kind, funny, handsome, he respected you and your goals, encouraging you to follow your heart instead of pushing them aside. he was absolutely perfect. 

as the minutes passed, the two of you kept talking, he asked you about your studying, about your day, if you ate, etcetera. and you did the same too, you asked about his day, how work went, how he was, overall the conversation was lively and it always left you aching for a response from him. the evening couldn't get any better. 

but that loving liveliness in the night was quick to end, a noise came from your living room, it was rather loud, making your body jump in surprise. your eyes moved to the door of your room, your door was shut, but even then your eyes were wide and you were high and alert. 

what was that?

your mind started to go 70 miles per hour, trying to rationalize the noise, you were home alone, was it the fridge? maybe it was refilling the icemaker? no, it didn't sound like the fridge, maybe something fell? right? sure. you nodded to yourself, letting yourself relax. your attention went back to your phone, going back to texting your boyfriend, but then another noise came from outside your room, now that scared you. something couldn't have fallen twice, there was no heavy wind inside your home or any pet that could hit a surface that could cause a noise.

slowly, you sat up on your bed, staying quiet to keep an ear out for any other noise. it was faint, but you still caught it, the creaking of wood, your floors were old and wooden, the floor constantly creaked when someone walked on it. 

there was someone inside your house. 

you grabbed your phone quickly, your hands shakingly wrote your boyfriend a text. 

' there's someone inside my house. '

you didn't have any time to give more context, you stood up from your bed slowly, maybe it was a friend? that sounds normal? right? 

but no, your friends wouldn't stop by your house without telling you first, there was an intruder inside your house. you hoped it was just a thief, your feet stood in front of the door, as quiet as you possibly could. but your heart was hammering against your chest, you were horrified, you could hear the steps, getting closer and closer to your room. finally, your fight or flight kicked in, hide, you need to hide, you need to call for help too. 

you rushed to your bed, quickly arranging the sheets so it seemed like the house was vacant before hiding under it. you had no idea if this was a good idea, your house has never been broken into. your hand gripped your phone tightly, your hands quickly opened the call app on your phone, you could see your boyfriend was messaging, spamming you, but your ringtone was off, so there was no noise. you didn't care though, your main focus was to call 911. 

you opened the dial and quickly punched in the number, pressing your phone to ear your breathing was shaky, it felt like someone pressing on your chest. 

"911, what's your emergency?"

a woman's sweet voice came from your phone.

"someone broke into my house— send someone please— i-im alone, please—"

you whispered, your voice was shaky, your eyes focused on the door as you hid. 

the door's knob turned, he was getting in. 

"okay ma'am, what's your address?"

your heart was stuck into your chest, your eyes wide as the door creaked open.

"ma'am? are you there? i see your location, the police are on their way." 

she spoke, but you said nothing, your hand was clamped over your mouth, as you tried to muffle your fast and shaky breathing. 

a deep chuckle filled the quiet room, "i know you're here." a new voice came in, it was a man, the person inside your room, it was a man with a deep voice, sending shivers down your spine, you heard him walk towards your bathroom. he opened the door and scanned the restroom, you heard him jank the shower curtain back, he muttered something before entering the room again, part of you cussed, you should've taken the opportunity to run away, but you didn't. 

he walked to your closet, opening it, empty. just like the bathroom, his eyes narrowed, his back facing the bed, not in the bathroom or closet? he turned around, his hand gripping the handle of his blade tightly, his gaze fell on your bed. clever girl. 

slowly walking over, he stood by the end of the bed, kneeling down, he leaned down to see if you were under there. 

your back was facing the end of the bed though, you were frozen rigid, you knew he was there, you knew he had found you, but you didn't know he was bent over, you didn't know he was watching you. his eyes were piercing through you. the call with the 911 operator was still on, she was trying to reach you, asking if you were there, but you couldn't say anything. 

the man reached out for your ankle, you didn't know, you didn't know until it was too late.

a large hand gripped your ankle, before you could even say or think, your body was pulled from under the bed. your hands tried to grip the floor, trying to pull away but he was stronger than you, much stronger. 

once you were exposed, your body was shaking like a leaf, your eyes were wide and teary, your eyes met his. something about seeing the man in front of you broke you. a scream left your lips, as you tried to kick his grip away. 

he stared in amusement, trying to kick him off? how cute. his grip got tighter, painful, he was definitely going to leave a bruise. 

"c'mon kid, stop kicking 'n screaming, you're only making it harder for yourself." he said, but you didn't falter, you caught a glance of his knife, it only encouraged you more, if you were going to die, you were going to die trying to run away. 

toji tsked, he got on top of you, one hand holding your ankle while the other gripped your chin, the blade was so close to your skin. now, he leaned down to your level, his dark eyes connected with yours. now you could really see him, messy black hair, he had a scar on his lips, dark bags under his eyes, he was much older than you, maybe in his early 40's? but his gaze. the murderous glint behind his eyes, it made your heart fall to your stomach. 

he was familiar, you knew him from somewhere, your brain worked on trying to see why you knew him. why was he so familiar, then it hit you, he was on the news, his headshot. his name was toji fushiguro, he had been on the news recently, he was a serial killer. he had been accused on at least three murders recently, and suspected for more. now the realization hit you, you were going to join that list. there's so many things you haven't been able to do in life, you haven't even graduated college, this was your third year, you haven't gotten married, you haven't had kids, all those traditional adult steps that you didn't care for then were now the most important thing in your eyes. you haven't seen your boyfriend, your parents, your family, you haven't been able to say goodbye to your loved ones. the realization was heartbreaking. 

"just give in 'n it'll be less painful, 'kay?" toji spat, a twisted smile coming to his lips as he saw the realization hit you. the way you got that hopeless look on your face, how cute. 

what he didn't expect was for your knee to crash against his groin, that really caught him off guard. while his hand gripped your ankle, he forgot about your other leg. a strained groan left his lips before he moved away, he let go of you before yelling curses. 

seeing now that his hands were off you, your window of freedom opened and you didn't hesitate to take it. you scrambled to your feet and ran out of your room, your adrenaline spiked and you were going to take advantage of it. toji was doubled over himself, he watched as you left, he cursed to himself, fucking bitch. he heard the backdoor slam open, he wasn't going to let you get away. grabbing the handle of his knife again, toji got to his feet and ran after you. you want to play hunter and prey? fine. just know, you'd be hunted.

you had run out the backdoor, your backyard was practically a forest, you knew your way around the forest, you hoped you had the advantage, that he would get lost and stop following you. besides, the police were supposed to be on their way. 

you were barefoot, sprinting down the wooded area, barely paying attention behind you. your adrenaline was so high you could barely notice the ache of your legs or the burn in your chest.

you thought you had the advantage, but toji was right on your tail, he was fast, faster than you expected, even if you ran as fast as you could, he was faster. you were truly the prey here, you were stupid for underestimating him. 

your sprinting got caught off when two large muscular arms wrapped around you, one pressing the knife tightly against your throat, with one harsh slash he could easily slit your throat. your eyes were wide as you felt him against you, you were breathing heavily, and now your muscles started to register the soreness, making it hard to even stay standing upright. toji was breathing heavily too, his warm breath brushed against your ear. his chest was heaving against your back.

he laughed at your worthless attempt to run away from him. "you're really fucking stupid huh? - hah - now look at you, all worn out and useless." toji degraded. 

you let out a small whimper, tears building up at your waterline quickly, "p—please, don't kill me, i'll do anything! i won't tell the police, i promise! just let me live!" you cried out, tears streamed down your cheeks like a waterfall, sobs leaving your lips with no end. toji only tightened his hold on you, he stayed silent for a few seconds, "yeah? you'll do anything?" toji questioned, you nodded your head quickly, small hiccups and whimpers leaving your lips, not hesitating at all. toji hummed in reply, you were waiting to see what would happen, part of you expected to be let go while the other expected your neck to be sliced open and you'd be left there, to bleed out in the middle of the forest. 

but instead, toji shoved you to the ground, the collision knocked the breath out of your lungs, weakly, you turned around stared up at toji, you didn't know what go expect, but you didn't expect his hands to be untying the knot on the waistline of his pants. 

then it hit you, he was going to fuck you, normally you wouldn't allow this, but if it meant you'd die, you just let him do what he wanted. 

"pull your pants down." toji commanded, standing over you, with a small sniffle, you started fumbling with your pajama pants before slipping them off slowly. as well as your panties, leaving your lower body bare, you felt ashamed, were you really letting this happen? not wanting to get brutally murdered by the man before you, you just complied, spreading your legs, trying to keep the killer happy. seeing you like this made his cock twitch, oh you were so desperate, he could tell, but he liked that. he liked dumb little girls like you. 

he kneeled in between your legs, pulling his shirt up slightly, revealing the lower part of his abdomen, you couldn't help but stare, his happy trail starting under his belly button, and his v-line was pronounced, it leading down to the bulge under his baggy pants. 

he pulled his waistband down, his cock springing out nicely, causing your eyes to widen slightly, it was so big, so thick, precum adoring his tip. this made your muscles tense, did you really want to do this? was it too late to run away? was death the better option? your boyfriend flashed through your mind, making guilt to wash over you, if you survive this, he would understand right? probably, but would he forgive you? you didn't know, you were too focused on your own regrets that you didn't notice how toji had towered over you. 

seeing how your mind was somewhere else, toji pulled his hand back, slapping you across the face before gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him, you were brought out of your guilt filled daze and stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights, your cheek stinging from the slap. "if you pull any more tricks, i promise i'll kill you. i'm being nice with you, 'kay?" he warned, his voice laced with pure venom, this time, you knew he wasn't messing around, nodding your head, you replied. "y—yes, i p—promise." you whimpered, toji grinned, "good girl." he praised. 

taking a hold of his cock, toji pressed it against your entrance, but before he could push in you spoke up, "w—wait, no prep or anything?" you questioned, but toji only laughed, he took a hold of your hips with such ease, he held them up so your cunt would be closer to his lips. due to the position, your back dragged against the grass under you. what was he going to do? toji then spat down on your cunt, making your hips buck against the air at the feeling. a soft noise left your lips, toji pressed his thumb against your cunt, spreading the saliva around so it coated your slit. then he dropped your hips down.

"there, i don't want you breaking with just the tip." toji spoke, his hands helping his cock press against you, something about his words made your cunt clench around nothing. the way he spoke about himself just made you feel some type of way, but you didn't know how. his confidence made you squirm, but you were still grateful that he at least prepped you a bit. 

toji rubbed his bulbous tip against your hole, you just needed to calm down, your eyes shut, trying to imagine something to distract you, you imagined your boyfriend, maybe if you imagined him while toji used you, you didn't have to feel too guilty? maybe it will make time pass faster? you just wanted this to end so you could be left alone, that is, if toji was kind enough to let you go. something inside you said that you were being too hopeful, but at this rate you needed more positivity in this situation. 

since your eyes were closed, you didn't notice how close toji was to pushing his cock in, his thick cock was pushed inside you stretching you out further than ever before, a sharp cry of pain left your lips and your eyes practically shot open, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt, tears built up in your eyes for the pain of being brutally stretched out like that. toji groaned though, your walls practically suffocated his cock, they were so tiny compared to his girth, it made his eyes shut in bliss. 

small sobs left your lips as you tried to accommodate him, it's either this or death, you reminded yourself as you tried to calm down. but god, it was so hard, he was so big, you swore that if he moved he would break you. he was so deep inside too, you didn't think it was that deep. toji pressed his palm against where your womb would be, "am i too big for ya, kid? i can see my cock inside ya." toji mused, pressing down on the bulge in the bottom of your tummy. you whimpered, teary eyes moving down to where his hand was, holy shit, there was a tummy bulge, the sight making your cunt clench around him, sudden arousal pooling to your cunt. 

"ya like that? you like having my cock?" toji teased, his hips pulled back before rolling his hips against yours, feeling his thick cock rub against your walls made you whimper, your little hands gripped his shirt, while your gaze was still on your belly, watching as the stomach bulge disappeared but appeared once more when he pushed in. his thrust was slow, mostly because he was interested in watching how you took his fat cock, not because he cared for you. his next thrust was harder, uncaring. 

what did you expect? he has killed countless people before and he showed absolutely no care for them, why would he care now? toji wasn't your boyfriend, he wasn't someone you shared a story with, he was just an obstacle. he was using you for his needs and you were letting him. 

your lips parted as shaky breaths and gasps slipped past, fuck, toji's hands moved to grab your legs, he easily folded your body into the position he wanted to, your legs were trapped in between his thighs and his arms, his body shadowed over you. he had you folded nicely into a mating press. the new position gave you the illusion that his cock was just hitting deeper than you expected. 

the small breathless gasps that left your lips slowly turned into small moans, you couldn't control it, the full feeling he gave you made your stomach twist. maybe it was the danger, he could kill you right now, but he wasn't, the older man was enjoying your little cunt wrapped around him.

he kept fucking his cock inside you, but as much as you hated the idea of sleeping with another man before, you couldn't help but enjoy it now. you tried to keep your moans and whines minimal, a voice inside your head telling you that the police would find you like this if you let yourself loosen up. now, were you afraid to get caught due to your dignity? were you afraid they would see you in such a vulnerable state? or were you afraid that they would see you enjoying it? what would people think if they saw the way your little hands gripped his biceps? what would they think if they saw your face twisting in pleasure? what would they think when they heard your cunt squelching as he fucked you? that didn't matter now. 

you couldn't help but enjoy it, the danger of the situation only adding more to your senses, like this you realized toji was an attractive man, much older and insane, but his facial structure made your walls flutter. having his face so close to yours, his breathing gently caressing your skin, how his lips were parted and deep, guttural groans left his lips. 

toji placed his large palm on the side of your head, he pushed your head to the side, your cheek pressed against the dirt floor, he angled his hips again, keeping you folded into a mating press, but with his palm staying pressed against your head the power of his thrusts got harder and faster. 

the noise of skin slapping echoed through the dark and quiet forest, as well as the sinful noise of your cunt sucking toji back in greedily. 

"you hear that? sucking me back in like a whore, and just a while ago you were crying 'n screaming." toji spoke with a wicked smile on his lips as he fucked you senseless. "i wonder what that lil boyfriend of yours would say seeing ya like this—drooling on the cock of a murderer." toji mused, now at the mention of him your eyes widened, first the guilt rushed through your body, then a question popped in your mind. how did toji know about your boyfriend?

"h—how- how do you..k—know?" you asked weakly, the hand that was holding your face down now gripped your chin, he pulled your face so you could see him properly, his face was so close, it startled you. 

"i know everything about you, y/n l/n." toji spoke, a twisted grin on his lips as he saw the horror wash through your face, even as he made this revelation, he kept fucking your cunt like a fleshlight, making your insides into mush. 

he knew everything about you? a new feeling of unease built up in your stomach, had he been watching you? for how long? what does he know? "i know about your studies, friends, your family, your boyfriend.." toji drawled, with every word he slammed his cock down inside you to add more punctuation, his cock knocked against your cervix as he did so, sharp moans leaving you lips as he did so. 

you were shocked, why you? so many questions filled your brain, but keep track of them was getting hard as toji kept fucking you.

you stopped caring about the consequences, the questions, you didn't care, at least not now. not when your cunt was stuffed and toji kept moving. your head turned to the side, moans leaving your lips, your tone getting louder and more high pitched. 

atta girl. finally giving in. 

toji kept slamming his hips against yours, his hand gripped your shirt before yanking the hem up, your tits bounced at the force of his thrusts. leaning down, he put his lips on your nipple, sucking on it so hard it bruised, this repeated for the other, then he littered hickies on your chest, marking you as his. 'property of fushiguro' he thought, he leaned back, your head was still to the side, that was no fun. if you were going to keep moaning like a whore while you got fucked, he at least wanted to see your slutty face. 

he yanked your face so you would look at him, "look at me while i fuck you, 'kay?" toji ordered, and you nodded weakly. so obedient. 

you were sopping, your slick coated your cunt, his cock, balls, and pubic bone, as well as your thighs. you really were enjoying this, huh? he never imagined you to be like this, from all he knew you and your boyfriend were slow and vanilla, you weren't being taken care of sexually if you were this messy. no worries, toji is here now. 

your cunt started to tighten, and your moans were practically incoherent babbles. "m'gonna— c—cum!—toji!—" you cried out, a horrible pressure had been building up for a while now. throughout the time your arms had wrapped around the older man for some type of support. you could barely handle it anymore, the pleasure was way too much for your body to handle. you kept babbling about your climax and how close it was, toji let you cling onto him while his lips were on your neck, bruising and biting your skin. 

finally, the pressure snapped and your body jolted against his, your back was arched and your head was thrown back against the dirt floor, your eyes rolled back as a sharp cry left your lips. now you were nothing but a mess, hearing you cry like that made toji tense, the way your cunt squeezed down on him, milking him, he was getting close too. your walls fluttered and your body shook. 

you laid back, your arms resting against the floor and your gasped and panted, glossy eyes looking up at toji. his large palms moved your thighs again, this time he pressed them tight against your chest, your calves rested over his shoulders as he chased his climax, he was grunting and groaning. 

"when i cum, m'gonna fill you up, maybe get you pregnant, how does that sound, huh? then you can be with me." toji grunted, but instead of a cry or argue, you just nodded your head like a dumb bimbo, still crying his name as your body tingled in overstimulation. 

"mmyeah–! breed me, p—please!—" you moaned, your constant begs and moans were fucking killing him. in all these years he's never fucked someone like you, you had him in a fucking chokehold. he was sweating, you both were, his ebony colored hair was stuck to his forehead, he grunted as his thrusts got sloppy, he was going to cum, he was going to fill your little cunt to the brim. make sure you get pregnant with his kid, just so he can have you to himself. 

his cock twitched, and with a deep groan toji came, he had shoved his cock inside you, letting it pressed against your cervix before his cum spurted out, thick, warm, and milky. it painted your walls nicely, stuffing you nicely too. his body weight was pressed against you, making sure to keep you filled. slowly, he rolled his hips against yours as he came down from his high, his breathing was heavy and so was yours. your brain practically stopped working, all you could think about was toji, only him, your body was limp and sore, and your cunny was nice and filled. 

toji pulled out, his eyes watched as your stomach bulge left and your cunt oozed. he pulled back from your body, his gaze still on your cunt, with two fingers he pushed his cum back inside you before shoving his soft cock back inside his pants. 

now, you could barely think straight, what was he going to do with you? he snatched your pants and panties off the floor before haphazardly putting them back on your body, he then pushed your shirt down, but what about now? he remembered you were in a call with emergency services, which was a pain in the ass, toji stood up from the floor, he saw something glimmer, his blade, he grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket. he couldn't take you back to your house, with a groan, he pulled you off the ground with relative ease, with those muscles of him, you weighed nothing to him.

your head  rested against his chest, you were so ungodly tired now, that you couldn't process anything and just drifted off in the hands of a murderer. 

now that he minds, it's better to deal with you when you're asleep, he doesn't want a moment of clarity to hit you and cause another fit like before. 

when you woke up, you were in another room, another place, your head was pounding. you barely remembered anything, reaching for your phone you saw nothing, then reality started to set in, you remembered the night before, the intruder, the game of predator and prey, and the way you got out of dying. you panicked, throwing the sheets off before scanning the room, maybe there was a phone here that you could use? when you saw nothing you aimed for the door, ignoring the soreness in between your legs, slamming the door open you rushed down the hall, only to slam against someone. 

"look at that, you're awake."

looking up, you met his eyes again, toji, it was him– you gulped, "where am i?" you asked, ignoring his comment, "my house, or should i say, our house?" he replied, smile crawling to his scarred lips. your eyes widened, "what are you talking about?" you questioned our house? what the fuck did he mean?

"after last night, after that little show you gave, i realized i wanted to keep ya, and that's what i'm going to do." toji said so casually, causing your lips to part, your words catching your chest. "b-but i– i have a life! i have college, family, friends, my boyfriend!— you're insane if you think you are just going to take me away from that!" you yelled, but he didn't care. "we'll figure that out later, and a boyfriend? yesterday you didn't care about him, why worry now?" toji laughed cruelly, shame and guilt filling your mind. 

"it's not like that and you know it.." you argued back weakly, not being able to meet his gaze, "yeah? yesterday you were like a dumb whore, crying over cock. i don't wanna hear your excuses." toji reminded, the more he spoke the more sick you felt, but you were mostly sick of yourself, because you knew all that was true. without replying, toji spoke up again. 

"besides, it doesn't matter if you run away or not, you're mine now, kid. and i will always find you."

ⓒ VMPIRX on TUMBLR do not repost or copy my works.

#jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jujutsu toji #toji smut #toji x y/n #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you

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The Monster That Lurked

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/N:Hey hey! I'm in a really angsty mood and decided to write a full fledged fic about my own work of ‘Monster In The Woods’!!! YAY!!! ALSO A FRIENDS TO LOVERS DEAL- SUE ME. Also you can picture Human Alastor or Alastor anyway you want cause I don’t really describe him much except for what he is wearing and I picture Alastor a certain way in my head. This got long I apologize.

TW: Set in the 1920-30’s, Human Alastor and his murders. Pre-established relationships, cheating, Alastor “stealing” you away from your husband.Alastor and Reader have known each other for a long time already. Reader is also some sort of fucked up, in like the murder way. Talks about cheating, fighting, Gore, Christianity and religion in general. MURDER VERY MUCH MURDER

Word Count: 7k

1927, the days filled with laughter and partying whilst listening to jazz standing with your husband..well you were waiting outside a sleazy bar for your husband, the same drunkard that your father had married you off to. He wasn’t your first choice neither was he your last choice. You would’ve been fine not marrying anybody and just living your life hidden from prying eyes, you would rather be somewhere in the Louisiana bayou with Alastor. Just sitting and listening to him ramble on about a new show he was talking about or how some poor lad got on his bad side. 

But yet you were standing on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy bar with even sleazier patrons as you stared at your husband through one of the windows as he hit on the same poor dame that served him. He cheated all the time and yet you never cared, was it because you never truly loved him or was it the fact you’d rather picture his own death while he begged god for his sins. You couldn’t tell anymore and a part of you didn’t want to know anymore. The other part of you wanted to delve deeper into your own thoughts, wanted to open the door that was locked and barricaded for your own good. You wanted to understand what it felt like to rip flesh from bone and see how long it would take for him to lose consciousness from the blood loss.

A loud honk from a passing car made you jump out of your skin and look around, feeling the small box in your pocket, it was supposed to be for your husband but he didn’t deserve it, he would’ve just sold it eagerly for some kind of money to waste his life away. That’s fine you knew a man who would appreciate it more than him anyway. The same man whose voice was happily broadcasted on every radio for miles around, you could practically hear his smile through the radio static and fuzz. Your heartbeat a little faster than it should’ve just thinking about him, he was your friend and that was it. Friends don’t have crushes on friends. This was just a way to spoil him for being a good friend of yours. Right?

You couldn’t bother him right now, you knew better so you did what you always did. Went back home and made yourself busy until he eventually made his way over to your house. He was always quick enough to get to your house before your drunken husband did but stayed around long enough (i.e in the early hours of the morning) so you wouldn’t have to deal with anything unnecessary and you eventually went to bed. Then he would’ve disappeared for a few days but he came back around. You didn’t question him or his ways, you knew better. A part of you did want to question his motives but you held your tongue like you always did.

Your husband wasn’t a necessarily violent man..just dumb and constantly drinking, said some nasty words too. If it wasn’t for you, Alastor would’ve probably done him in by now. Especially when he was talking bad about his Mother, you saw the way Alastor stared at your husband. The same angry look you gave him when he had gotten on your last nerve. But before Alastor could get to him, some other patron did. Knocked your husband’s nose sideways and a tooth completely out. Bastard deserved it completely and till this day you don’t visit that place. You needed a fucking drink thinking about your husband but the bastard drunk your house completely dry.

A knock on your front door snapped you out of your thoughts and as you turned towards your front door, the man of the hour had walked through your door. A huge grin plastered on his face, one hand holding a bottle of whiskey and in the other today's paper. “Ah ha! There you are, My Dear!” He called out his suit absolutely spotless. A smile formed on your lips as you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, waving him towards one of the only rooms your husband doesn’t enter. “You had me worrying there for a moment,” He said tilting his head back towards you as he led you to the parlor room, “Maybe that husband of yours was back from wherever he was lurking.” He finished his smile falling into a snarl, Alastor was also not a huge fan of your husband from the start. You never asked why as you both didn’t want to think of him during your little time together.

“Please..you know better than I do that he’s hitting up on a poor dame at the bar.” You replied, sitting the glasses down on the table causing him to make a noise in acknowledgement, “At this point, Alastor..I’m believing you're a mind reader with how you just appear with whiskey in hand at my front door.” At that? He let out a loud belly laugh leaning in closer to you allowing his gaze to soften as he stared at your features before he leaned away opening the bottle of whiskey. This was going to be a long night for the both of you and you had forgotten all about the gift.

~~~

A couple weeks had passed since you last saw Alastor in person but you didn’t fret, he had called the next day to tell you he had made it back home safely. Something he had picked up ever since you had asked him to stay the night so long ago, you were-..are still scared of your own thoughts. The ones that dare creep out, the ones who tell you to crack open your husband’s chest and rip out his still beating heart. The ones who you don’t dare tell a soul and you sure as hell won’t tell Alastor, he’d think you're insane. But you knew..you were slowly losing yourself and everyday it was one step closer to killing your husband.

Walking into the kitchen and rolling your eyes seeing your husband looking like hell, “Hungover John?” You hissed out as you moved past him a grunt falling from his lips in reply, “Shut the fuck up..” He hissed out speech still slurred as half assed venom dripped from his tongue. “I wasn’t the one up at 1 in the morning drinking with that no good radio host.” You froze your hand twitching towards the knife on the counter but stopped yourself, “I wasn’t the one who was at the bar drinking his sorrows away whilst trying to bed another dame for the twentieth time this week.” You hissed back, sending a glare towards him. 

John stood up fully and walked towards you getting into your face, hand raising to no doubt strike you. But nothing came as someone cleared their voice, an icy cold tone to it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Friend.” Alastor..fuck you forgot about him and his way of just walking into your house. You had drunkenly given him a key one night, ‘Just in case’ you told him. You were glad that you did because as soon as he heard Alastor’s cold voice he immediately backed up and stormed off deeper into the house.

Alastor’s cold gaze had followed the poor idiotic man as he disappeared into the home before they snapped back onto you. “Are you alright?” He asked the venom and anger laced in his voice gone but you saw how his eyes still held his anger, like they did when that fool had talked bad about his Mother. You often had envy and wished that you could know a mother’s gentle hand guiding you towards a better life. But criminals only give birth to criminals, your mother had left the Earth so long ago you don’t even remember what she looked like anymore but sometimes when you look into a crowd you see a familiar figure and a part of you becomes elated before it crashes and burns into the ground. 

“I’m fine, Alastor.” You replied softly as you glanced down the hallway where your husband stormed off. Alastor sat silent watching your face keep still but the sadness in your eyes was apparent, he knew you yearned for freedom and solace. He knew how you would rather be a thousand miles away from your “husband”- God he hated that word and man, if he could’ve he would’ve killed him a long time ago. Walking over he softly hummed, “Let me take you out on the town, Dear…a way to get your head cleared.” He whispered, reaching over and carefully placing his hand on your shoulder. He watched your eyes once almost so lifeless and dull flicker to life at the thought, “All day?” You asked, glancing at him, the warmness in your eyes returning, a small smile forming on your lips. Hook…line…and sinker, he’s got you right where he wants you, perfectly safe in his hands.

“Of course, Dear! Now go on, go get dressed!” he hummed his smile, returning as he guided you to go down to your own bedroom which was supposed to be the guest bedroom. You never explained why you had moved bedrooms but he didn’t need to guess or ask. It was abundantly clear to anyone who had stepped foot in your household, this “marriage” wasn’t full of love. It was only necessary and after the first year of it, you had grown cold. That man had taken away any semblance of your hope and happiness for a better life. Alastor hummed a tune that played from his radio broadcasts as he looked around your home, he’s seen the decor and fake photos that hung up on the wall a million times but yet it never gets old. Especially when he’s staring at the photo of you on your wedding day, the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “What are you still doing here?” A slurred voice asked, causing him to calmly look over. His smile grew wider at the sight of the boy in front of him. That wasn’t a man..far from it. “Good to see you at least a little sober, Jonathan.” He hummed, dodging the question thrown his way. 

“Shut the fuck up, Alastor.” John threw back, moving closer as Alastor’s eyes darkened. Just a little closer..and then he’d be gone for good. “John!” You yelled out making the man flinch and Alastor’s heart raced, oh how he loved hearing that venom lace your tongue; it was always a delight to see how commanding you were when you wanted to be. When Alastor first met you, you were quiet yet happy and you hadn’t been married to this fool. Such a lovely little mouse minding your own business when you had accidentally bumped into him. He wouldn’t believe anyone if they said meeting you would change his life. You had spilled wine on his suit, yet you didn’t freak out when you saw his eyes flicker angrily. Only apologized and paid for his new suit with the money you had been saving up to leave for good, he wouldn’t find that out until a year later.

John looked over at you with anger but soon he once again stormed out of the house cursing you and Alastor. Alastor looked over at you with a gentle smile returning to his lips as he guided you to the front door. “Come now~ Let’s paint the town red, Dear” He called out laughing at his own little joke making you roll your eyes at his antics. Silly man.

~~~

Hours happily passed by and the day turned into night from swinging into tailors and from jazz clubs to socialite parties so you both could secretly judge people between hushed breaths, he eventually led you down to a park that was lit up with lampposts every so often before sitting down on a park bench under the moonlights soft glow. Your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence as you glanced over at Alastor. His leg crossed the other one, “I haven’t seen someone so eager to play the fool in one of those parties.” He laughed out, tapping his thumb on his knee, “Something on my face, Darling?” You jumped and looked away, “No no..sorry I..I’ve been lost in my own thoughts recently, Alastor.” 

He looked over at you, you were unusually silent the whole night. “Can I tell you something?” You asked, watching as you finally looked over, oh he could never get used to those eyes of yours and that darling little smile was everything to him. “Of course, Darling.” He reached over and carefully plucked a stray leaf from your shoulder, his attention fully on you. You looked down, hands trembling..you had to tell him, you could tell him right? “Nevermind it, you’d think I’d gone insane.” You corrected and cleared your throat leaning back into the cooled bench. You felt uncomfortably hot despite the cold air, winter was right around the corner.

Using his hand to rub at his chin as he hummed your favorite tune he played on air, this piqued his curiosity much more than he’d like to admit. “I’d never think such a thing, my friend!” He replied throwing his hand up in the air as if to actually try and swat those thoughts away from your mind. “Tell me whenever you feel ready to do so, my Dear!~” He was always willing to listen to you even if it was about nothing, your voice was practically music to his ears. Closing his eyes as a cold breeze hit his face as he continued to hum along to fill the silent night, he suspected it was your..’husband’..the cause of all your misery. The way your honeyed voice was now constantly laced with venom and authority as if you had to fight to even allow your voice to be heard. Your silence had felt like an eternity for him but he knew it had only been a moment or two, he didn’t realize how addicted to your voice he had become.

“I..I’ve been having thoughts.” You started making him look over at you, his eyes narrowing in concern at your form, how small you had looked at the moment. He had leaned forward and took his jacket off before draping it over your figure not minding how the cold nipped at his skin but he didn’t interrupt you, he knew better to do so. “Angry thoughts..well they started out that way but now they’ve turned into something more..violent.” You explained carefully pulling his jacket closer to your frame, eyes casted off in the woods. You imagine some man standing there, blood covering his hands and drenching his shirt, a wicked smile on his face as he looked up into the night sky and laughed out loud for god to hear him. 

Alastor followed your gaze as his humming slowed down until it completely stopped to allow the silence to fill the air, his smile pulling into a more sinister one at how he finally understood. The same one that happened to find its way on his lips after killing his latest victim, he quickly rubbed his hand over his mouth allowing the smile to drop before you could catch a glimpse of it. “I think of what it would feel like to rip flesh from bone..to finally choke him out..I want to know what it feels like to snub out a life..his life. I’m not a violent person and these thoughts terrify me, I try to keep them hidden but…sometimes they slip out.” You finish up finally noticing how tight your throat felt and the tears falling down your face. It felt great to finally get that off your chest but now the anxiety of it all set in, would he rat you out to the police? Would he hate you?

“I don’t remember when they started. Was it when I was forced to get married to him? I’d tell myself I can save enough money and start somewhere new..but then I’d miss you..miss your early morning show and our late night talks.” You confessed spilling your problems out onto the sidewalk like a drunkard when he had spilled his guts on the pavement. You were pathetic in your own way. Alastor watched you for a few moments before carefully pulling you into his side, using a handkerchief tucked into his vest pocket to carefully wipe your tears away. “No more tears, dear friend.” he whispered, allowing you to hide your face into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

He was at a crossroad in his own mind, should he tell you not to go with it? He wouldn’t want you to go into this dirty mess. But he also wants you to feel the rush of adrenaline when snubbing out a life, he wants to help. But either way if you did or didn’t he’d take care of it..in some way or another. No one should hurt his little mouse in such a way and get away with it. It was silent for a long time as you calmed yourself and he held you with a softness that was foreign to himself and most others. 

“I always..I always imagined running away with you..to some old house down near the bayou.” You whispered out feeling the familiar chain that hung on his vest, the one hidden under his jacket. He leaned his head against yours and hummed in reply. It sounded picture perfect in his mind.

~~~

You sat at the church pew next to your ‘husband’ and kept your head down as you listened in on the priest doing his normal sermon. The only time your husband had decided to not be drunk and clean up for once in his life was always on Sundays or when his family was coming over. Something you always ran away from, you stayed in the empty parlor with a glass of water and a small book. His mother was never kind to you nor his sisters, you chose to ignore them and their gossip. Especially when you had to be seated around them in a church talking about a man who you possibly didn’t believe in but was instead forced to hear this priest talk about whatever was in the bible. Your hands clasped together as your mind kept drifting off. 

It had only been two days since you told everything to Alastor, your feelings and how you wished to murder your own husband. You haven’t been able to talk to Alastor since which was fine, he was a very busy man after all. Lifting your head up as you felt your husband nudge your leg with his own, you sent him a glance ignoring how he was practically glaring at you. “Don’t embarrass me infront of my family” He hissed out as you glared at the wall. “They already know how rocky our relationship is, John.” You hissed back, about to leave but someone sat next to you keeping his head down, “Sorry I’m late, Dear Friend.” Alastor whispered, making the anger dissipate in a matter of seconds, “Mother wanted to go see an old friend,” He hummed and got comfortable next to you.

After an hour or maybe it was a good 10 minutes you couldn’t tell but Alastor had successfully dragged you away and out of the church under the guise of it being important and he couldn’t dare interrupt the sermon. You didn’t care now as you laughed at some joke that was pointed towards your husband, walking down the street arm in arm as he used his other hand to dramatically explain everything that’s happened between the hours you both had parted. The crying and confession long gone in your mind as you pointed out the flaws in his story but he had only reached over and pinched your nose between his fingers with only a half hearted threat of keeping his ‘secrets’. 

As you both walked down the street the laughter and conversation lulled into a peaceful silence. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, feeling a familiar presence in your pocket, the gift you had forgotten about for weeks now. “Just for a walk through the park, Dear.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smile had formed on your face but your eyes still had that faraway look in them. Guess you were going back into your own head again, “I got you something a while ago and forgot it in my jacket” you called out reaching into your jacket and pulling the small box out, you didn’t want to bring up the fact it was supposed to be a gift for your husband. Alastor abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked at you, “You didn’t need to do such a thing, Dear.” You only smiled at him and gave him the box, “I know..but I wanted to give it to you.” You whispered out watching as he opened the box, his eyes widening. It was one of the newer pocket watches that you’ve had your eyes on for a long while now, “Dearest I..I couldn’t take this.” He replied carefully, taking the watch out, flipping it open and smiling. “But you can..and you will cause it’s for you, Al..”

You loved seeing him smile like that, something that you had rarely seen when you first started hanging out. It’s still mostly rare, especially when he’s had a hard day or the simple fact that you sometimes don’t see him for days on end. He put the pocket watch back into the box carefully, “Guess I’ll have to find to pay you back now?” He hummed out placing the box into his pocket causing you to sigh, “You know you don’t have to do such a thing, Alastor. I..I don’t deserve it.” Only criminals give birth to criminals and criminals don’t get nice things. 

“Oh but I think you do,” He replied and leaned down to gently tap your forehead, “Despite what those thoughts of yours tell you.” You blinked and stared at him, “You know me too well,” You huffed turning away from him. “Not well enough!” He called happily following after you and quickly catching up, long legged bastard. You looked up at him as he held out his arm, “Are you sure about that, Alastor? I think you know me better than most people.” You said carefully taking hold of his arm, he chuckled and quicked his step making you practically had to speed walk to catch up with him.

The night truly didn’t stop until you were almost on the verge of passing out from laughter and how sleep creeped up on your shoulders. Alastor’s arm was snuggly wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as the sandman was practically calling your name. “Come on now, one foot up the step.” He whispered as he guided your sleepy self up onto your own porch. “I can walk fine, Alastor. I’m not drunk,” You whispered, shaking your head trying to fight off how your eyes grew heavier. You don’t like being up past a certain time in the early mornings but for Alastor you would’ve done it a million times over….Maybe you did have a crush on him but he wouldn’t love you back in a million years. 

You don’t remember when you got into your bedroom, did you black out on him? Yet he was still holding you against his chest as he swayed you to an imaginary rhythm. “And here I thought you had fallen asleep on me already.” He whispered out, causing you to jump out of your skin for a second before you huffed, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do so.” You replied leaning back to try and smooth out his shirt, now noticing his jacket was draped near the door of your bedroom. “Nonsense, I find it comforting in a way that you trust me to fall asleep near me.” He replied watching you, his bow tie had been undone for a couple hours now but watching the way you had subconsciously fixed it for him made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his stomach.

His mind wandered off watching as you blinked the sleep from your eyes to make sure he still looked presentable. He wondered sometimes what it would be like if he married you instead of that idiotic man. “..Don’t leave for too long this time, Al..I know I’ll eventually hear your voice on the radio but sometimes it’s not the same..” You whispered out glancing back up at him, his gloved hand reaching up to cup your face tracing the bags under your eyes with his thumb, “I’ll try, Cher..” He replied as he leaned down to press his head against yours. He couldn’t promise it but he’d try especially since he has been working so hard on his plan to get rid of that idiotic husband of yours.

You leaned your head up, allowing for your noses to brush against one another. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, one of his hands splayed on the middle of your back. Then it had hit you, all those times he had pulled you away from your husband and took you to the places you loved..was he silently courting you? Had he been doing so for days now and you were just too stupid to notice? You gently cupped his face and watched as he had opened his eyes, when did he close them? “I..Alastor? Have you been courting me?” Your voice was only above a whisper making him freeze in his tracks. He was silent for a long time before he nodded and sighed. “I have been yes,” He replied and you felt your face warm, seemingly all of the tiredness from before had dissipated. 

His gloved hands came up to carefully grasp onto yours as your thumb caressed his cheek, a faint scar that had healed overtime. You remembered when you saw the scar, yet you never asked, figuring he would’ve told you when he decided to do so. He had yet to say a word about it so it must’ve not been important. In the years that you had known him, you’ve grown to love him and to be wary of him all at the same time. He was a wild mutt waiting to sink his teeth into any fresh meat he could find, he wasn’t the one to be tamed or “domesticated” and you surely would never think to tie him down to a preconceived notion such as marriage or a family life. It took someone truly special to worm their way into his heart and that was a tough act, nonetheless, he had picked and prodded at the worst parts of you wanting to see how quick it took for you to finally snap at him, show your fangs and reveal your weak spots to him. He loved the game of it.

Yet here he was, the same wild animal that used to raise his hackles and bare its sharp teeth was essentially laying down and showing his belly to you. He’d disappear to find his fill and get those fangs bloodied before he’d make his way back to you. Maybe everyone who told you to stay away was right, he wasn’t a man to stick around but here you were inviting the man into your home day after day because you just couldn’t get enough of him. 

Blinking your thoughts away you focused on Alastor, how he had leaned closer to you. “May I?” He whispered, ever the gentleman he was, his hands carefully squeezing yours as you nodded your head a small smile on your lips. Wordlessly, he closed the gap and gently kissed you. At first it was such a small kiss but you didn’t want it to end, you just got a taste of what it felt like to be loved..actually loved and it felt amazing, that one small kiss turned into a bigger one as his hands fell down to hold onto your sides.

You would be asleep until lunch the next day, the memory still fresh on your mind as you awoke to find a small gift box on your bedside table. You were going to kill Alastor.

~~~

You sat in an office, legs crossed as you watched the lawyer in front of you collect some papers and give you a passing glance every so often. “Now, it’s to my knowledge you are looking to file for a divorce?” The man asked, causing you to nod, “Now is there a reason for this divorce?” You huffed, how many times did you have to explain it? “Infidelity, I’ve caught him one too many times and I’d rather make this quick.” You huffed out venom lacing your tongue as you watched the older gentleman nod and produced some papers. 

After an hour of signing papers and making everything on record you had finally gone home. You didn’t even greet your husband when you walked inside, just placed the papers on the table and left for the day ignoring how he yelled out for you. You had walked all the way to the park, the same park Alastor had walked you to all those weeks ago and you spilled your darkest secrets out into the open. Sitting on the same bench as you watched people pass by as your eyes drifted to the woods, you also knew Alastor was an avid hunter and you’d be alone for a while longer as deer season came around. You’d be alone with your husband and your thoughts. You hoped this divorce would go through but it was a slim chance and then you would rightfully be kicked out of church for thinking of doing such a thing. Laughter rang in your ears as you got lost in your own world, your eyes glued onto the Doe walking out of the collection of trees to find something to eat on.

As the doe finally found something to snack on it had turned its head up and towards you. A small part of you felt a twinge of dread as you stared at the doe and the other part felt calm as the feeling started to grow and settle into the pit of your stomach, your breathing slowed down considerably before the doe had run off seemingly spooked away. You frowned and watched as it disappeared further into the woods. Gloved hands clamped down onto your shoulders making you jump up in surprise and let out a loud scream as Alastor’s laugh was heard from behind you.

 You turned on your heel ignoring the passerby who looked on in confusion, “I’m going to kill you, Alastor.” You hissed out trying to hide the prominent blush on your features and how your lips creeped up into a smile. He smirked, he knew you didn’t actually mean you would kill him. Your version of ‘kill’ meant you would simply get him back later in some kind of fashion. You were a smart person after all. “I’m sorry, Dear! You were so out of sorts you looked primed for me to scare you.” He hummed and moved to sit down on the bench, his hand patting the spot next to him. You let out a loud sigh sitting next to him, “What’s on your mind?” He hummed out fixing his gloves before moving to brush imaginary dust off his pants. 

You were silent for some time trying to figure out the words in your head, “I gave John divorce papers today.” you whispered out causing him to look over trying to hide the growing smile on his face, you still haven’t brought up the kiss you both shared the night before and you were scared to do so. “Really?” He hummed, leaning back against the bench using one hand to tap a melody on his knee, “I’m just waiting for him to sign it and see if the court will..allow the divorce to happen.” He didn’t answer and looked ahead as the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Your mind raced as another cold breeze hit you in the face, what would you do if the court denied the divorce? Would Alastor still..be by your side? The thoughts raced and raced but before you could delve deeper, a warm inviting hand was placed onto your shoulder causing you to look over at him confused but leaned into the warmth.

“It’s going to be okay, Dear. Don’t let those thoughts run you ragged now.” You nodded at his words and smiled, “Figured you’d be out hunting by now.” That made him let out a small laugh as his smile grew wider and went off on a tangent about hunting and how to actually be a good hunter.

You’d be fine.

~~~

You’d be fine.

Those were the words echoing in your head as you were now standing in your kitchen hands on the counter as you stared down at the broken glass cup as you heard your husband yell at you. The amber liquid is now spilling onto the wooden floor, your cheek burned like hell and you tasted the iron in your mouth as you unclench your jaw allowing your teeth to free themselves from your tongue. You stormed over to the phone and used the rotary dial to call a familiar number that you had stuck in the back of your mind. Alastor. You don’t remember the start of the conversation. All you could mumble between the stinging pain and blood in your mouth was, “Come over..It’s an emergency.” Before hanging up abruptly.

The next few moments were quick in your mind but you knew it took far much longer to do as your hands trembled. Grabbing whatever heavy metal object you could find in the vicinity, as your husband turned to face you once more. The fear in the man’s eyes as you swung and hit him in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor, his hands moving to cover his nose as he stared up into your empty anger filled eyes, god..it felt good to see him as nothing but a pathetic ant beneath your feet. It felt invigorating as you dropped to your knees one hand holding him down as you continuously bashed the item into his face until he was nothing more than a lifeless body surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

You stared down at him and then the blood covering your hands as tears formed into your eyes and a sob bubbled up from your throat but you weren’t sad. Far from it..you were relieved as you looked up at the ceiling falling flat on your ass as you started to laugh between horrid sobs. Your hands grasping at your shirt laughing louder until your cheeks hurt from how long you were smiling and as Alastor finally came into your vision. The smile faltered for a moment as another loud sob wracked your body, “I did it, Al..I did it-” You choked out as you curled into yourself. “It felt so fucking good..I felt fucking invincible.” You hissed out blood dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. “Oh god- I finally fucking did it.”

Alastor walked over calmly and quietly, his hands clasping on your shoulders. His suit was long gone as when you called him he was in the middle of getting ready to go out ‘hunting’ but when he heard your desperation, he rushed over immediately. “You did and I’m so proud of you, Dearest..but go get cleaned up and I’ll deal with the mess, yes?” He whispered into your ear as you let out another sob allowing him to help you stand up on your two feet. As he helped you to your own bathroom and got you fresh clothes, he went back to the freshly dead body in your kitchen and smirked. “Got what you had comin’ old boy.” He hissed out before starting to get to work cleaning up the mess.

It didn’t take him long to clean up but now he had to find a way to actually get rid of the body. In your backyard? No, that's too suspicious..in the woods? Maybe but he doesn’t want you to have another breakdown. But he would have to wait until night time so right now? He’s going to have to play the part just in case people start to suspect something. He looked around and draped a blanket over the body before dragging it towards an empty room.

When he had walked back to the kitchen, he had watched as you were carefully cleaning up the shards of glass. Walking over he had finally noticed the blooming bruise on your cheek causing a part of him to be angry. “He hit you?” He whispered out helping you stand up, “Yeah..after we got home after the court denied the appeal..said I embarrassed him and broke a cup over my head before slapping me.” You whispered your speech slurred from your swollen tongue making you flinch, “What do I do now?” You whispered out, allowing him to gently grab your chin, “I don’t know what to do, Al..” His eyes softened and he sighed, “Sit down and I’ll cook something for you, Dear. We are gonna have to wait till nightfall.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your head.

Later that night, he had helped you bury your ex husband deep in the forest, he mostly did all the dirty work but he did explain how to hide a body. 

~~~

It was now 1931, four years after you had killed your ex husband and a year after the economy collapsed. You and Alastor had moved in with one another and while not officially married by the courts you both loved one another and acted as such. Wearing a wedding ring on your finger told everyone you were either remarried or you still loved your poor ex husband that was murdered in cold blood by the rampant serial killer that was on the loose. Which would be far from the truth.

His family blamed you for his murder, calling you every name in the book and berating you for ‘kicking him out of the house’ which also wasn’t the truth. Yet another lie your ex had spun to keep his pride intact, you didn’t care in all honesty. The man was gone now..killed by your hands.

But here you were walking down the dark streets of New Orleans to get back home to your loving Beau, you had heard through the grapevine he was having a rough day and hoped to cheer him up that night but as you continued to walk down the street you realized that you were being followed. But maybe not maybe it was just your paranoia, but still you felt like a waiting duck, taking a turn down an alleyway and then another hoping to lose the trail of whoever was following you. 

It wasn’t until you had gotten to a familiar part of town out near the bayou that you felt relatively calmer but then that was stomped on when you heard a yell from behind. You looked back thinking it was one of the friendly neighbors but it wasn't. It was the man from before the same one who was following you. You dropped the book you were holding and broke out into a sprint down towards where your house was, trying your best to dodge anything that could hurt you. Then a loud shot rang out and it sounded like thunder causing your body to freeze up for a second. But you continued to keep running, you just needed to get home..you could see the smoke billowing from the chimney and the soft glow of the lights inside.

Your heartbeat was banging on your chest as you ran, you were almost there..you could see Alastor inside before a loud SNAP echoed through the silent air as you fell face first into the ground. 

You scrambled to get up sobbing as you looked back to see a trap digging into your leg, its sharp teeth scraping against bone as you sat up watching as the man got closer. “Fuck fuck-” you hissed out as you started to painfully get the jaws of the trap unstuck and scrambled off ignoring how your leg was burning. You yelled out for Alastor before another loud shot echoed through the air. The constant buzzing of the cicadas had gone silent as you fell to the ground gasping for air. Oh god it hurt, your hands moved to clutch your stomach as you looked up at the man, pistol in his hand pointed right between your eyes, “You killed my brother.” He hissed out his voice breaking as you teared up and begged him to let you go.

Tears cascaded down your face as he yelled, whispering some prayer that spilled past your lips and then the night went silent. As the gun had fallen down the hammer hit the ground first causing the gun to be set off, the bullet flying into the sky of the New Orleans Bayou. You trembled laying on the ground sobbing as you brought your hands up to see blood covering them the moonlight had casted down upon you as you sobbed out. There was movement before your head was lifted up and cradled into your Husband’s chest. His familiar cologne invades your senses in a comfortable way as he shakily tries to stop the bleeding. 

“It’s going to be okay, Cher..I’ll fix you right up.” he whispered into your hair as he pressed his hand onto your stomach. You were bleeding out too much as your breathing started to slow. No no it wasn’t supposed to end like this, tears raced down his cheeks as he pulled you closer as your hand weakly grasped around his sobbing out how you didn’t want to die. But he knew he couldn’t help you, he was far too late to properly help you and it was too far to get you to a doctor. “Sing me a song, Al?” You whispered out, “One last song?” he nodded and cleared his throat, watching as the light in your eyes slowly faded as he sung your favorite song.

He stayed like that for an extra hour, holding your lifeless body to his and singing all your favorite songs before he finally had the courage to find a place to bury you properly, making sure that when the sun rose the next morning it’s first rays it sent out over the bayou would hit your grave. You always did love watching the sun rise and listening to his broadcasts.

He would meet you again, he just knew it. He just didn’t know when.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader

[nathaslosthershit]

A Little White Chapel Wedding (LS18)

(Part 3 of the Blind Item Series) Summary: Lance and his now wife had their reasons for eloping, he just hopes his dad will understand.

Lance and his girlfriend, now wife, had always wanted to keep their relationship out of the spotlight. Given how much hate and controversy surrounded Lance due to his father’s ownership of the team, he had already taken a major step back from social media. He knew that dating another heir apparent would piss many fans off, even if it was solely for love that they were together. Both of their families knew and greatly approved of the relationship but once Lance had proposed it seemed their families wanted to take over fully. Wedding preparations had been started without any input from the groom and bride-to-be. Seeing all these decisions made without the two’s consent had put a ton of stress on them. This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives and they had absolutely no say in the matter. Guest lists full of investors and other business partners took away from the intimacy of the event. No detail was left unscrutinized and it was going to be far too extravagant, as this was going to be the first time they announced their relationship and the families joining together.

When Lance and his fiancee had gotten to Vegas, they had no plans of getting married that weekend. The thought only crossed Lance’s mind after the race.

“P5 Lance! Oh honey I couldn’t be more proud.” She said as she ran up and hugged him. She had been waiting what felt like forever to congratulate him, as he had been so surrounded the minute the race ended. 

Pulling away from the hug, Lance put his hands on her cheeks as he said “let's get married”

“We are, Lance.” She responded, perplexed. 

“Tonight. Let's elope and have an actual wedding about the two of us. No one else.”

“Honey, our families would kill us if we did that.” While the idea sounded wonderfully romantic and gave her butterflies just thinking about it, it just couldn’t work with the way things were.

“Who cares? We don’t have to tell them right away. We get married now, take an extra long honeymoon over break and then tell them once the season starts.”

“I don’t know Lance.”

“Please? It is unfair we don’t get to have the wedding we want. Who gives a shit about the guestlist with a million business partners we’ve never met. If they still need a wedding then we will do it their way but let's have our way first.” 

She took a minute to respond, thinking the idea over before she finally gave her answer. “Okay, Lance. Let's get married.”

Lance had never envisioned his wedding going the way it did, but he also never saw it the way his family planned it to be.

Although as happy as he was, he felt so guilty when he thought of how his family would feel knowing that he got married without them there to see it. As important as business was to Lawrence Stroll, he knew his dad valued and loved his family above all else. 

Over break, the newlyweds had gone on a bit of a delayed honeymoon, posed as just a really nice vacation.

They only got the honeymoon suit because they really wanted to go all out. No other reason…

They thought they had made it out unscathed, planning on telling their family in a week when they had gotten back from their vacation. Too bad they didn’t get to.

Lance’s wife saw the post first. He barely checked socials anymore. When the photos of them confirmed that the Blind Items post was about them, she felt a chill run through her body. Their families had to have known already, public image was important to both of them so they definitely had PR teams constantly checking what was going on. And she was correct.

“Honey, I just got a call from my Dad. He sounded pretty upset, and said we had to come home quickly and meet with him.” Lance said, confused and worried. His dad rarely sounded as serious as he did on the phone. 

Wordlesy, she passed her phone to Lance with the tweet pulled up. She could see the color drain from his face as he read through replies. Fuck this wasn’t good.

What was probably the most stressful plane ride of Lance’s life was also painstakingly long. He couldn’t swallow the guilt building in his throat at how upset his father must be.

The once welcoming and happy house was now cold and silent as the couple walked inside. His father didn’t greet them, just told the two of them to follow him into his office. Lance just held his wife’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly as they made their way up there. 

Lawrence still remained silent as he sat in his chair, looking at his married son and new daughter-in-law for the first time.

Lance was the one to break the silence.

“Dad, I know this is a lot but please-” He was cut off by the simple raise of his father’s hand to silence him.

“Why, Lance? We spend all this time planning the two of you a beautiful wedding just for you both to throw it away? For what?”

“Dad, you dont under-”

“No, Lance, I don’t. I mean how could you be so stupid?”

“Please if you just listen, Dad-”

“I have never been more disrespected by yo-”

 “Stop!” Lance’s wife spoke up. She finally had to butt in. “You tell Lance you don’t understand and when he tries to explain you cut him off! How are we supposed to have a conversation when you won’t let anyone else speak?”

Silence spread across the room as no one dared to respond. She could practically feel the smoke coming out of her ears.

“Dad. We eloped because we wanted something that was for us. The wedding you were planning wasn’t ours. We didn’t have a say in anything. From guest list to menu, you all controlled that. We wanted to get married on our own terms. While I will forever be sorry you weren’t with us, I am not sorry for getting married the way I did, to the girl I love.” Lance grabbed your hand once again to squeeze, to remind him why he did what he did. 

His father didn’t say anything for a few moments. The newlyweds waited patiently, praying Lawrence wouldn’t fly off the handle again. 

Finally he said, “Then I owe you both an apology. I understand that you both had expectations for your wedding and not having any say in the matter didn’t feel good. I wish you both said something. At the end of the day though, this is still a big deal for our families business-wise. You are my only son though, Lance, I wish I could have seen you get married.”

“We can still have the wedding, Mr.Stoll. Our plan was just to have something for ourselves, then have the main event be for everyone else.”

Lawrence smiled at that. Happy he would still get to see his son get married, even if it is the second time.

This time luckily, the couple got a bit more of a say in wedding preparations. With no comment from either family, the Vegas elopement was quickly forgotten once more pressing gossip reached the public. 

While it still wasn’t what Lance and his wife had envisioned, having their families there this time was all they could ask for. 

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#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lance stroll x reader #ls18 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic