#like im still close enough that a few lines run all the way out here but like

[scatterpatter]

*lies down*

One thing I miss about living in the city is the trains

#like im still close enough that a few lines run all the way out here but like #ouuughh i miss being able to constantly hop on trains in philly #the free interchange from the market-frankford to the BSL... <3 <3 <3 #and like not one but TWO stops were right on campus when i was in college #so like we'd just hop on the subway whenever we wanted to go downtown #I Miss It

[eupheme]

— drinkin’ in sunshine

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 1.8k

Tags: softer!cooper, love-at-first-sight, bounty hunting, alcohol, brief sexual harassment, seduction with ulterior motives, manual restraints, semi-public PiV

Request: a sweet request by @victoria-grimesss - ‘the theme of the song “Orange Colored Sky” like love at first sight maybe she’s a bounty hunter too?’

A/N: based on an idea where Cooper would like to visit old bars, a small habit left from the man he used to be

You find yourself having to rethink your strategy, when you’re suddenly struck with feeling for the man you’re supposed to be hunting down.

The bar you find yourself in might be one of least favorite you’ve been in. A dingy sign marking the entrance, cast in shades of orange with the dip of the evening sun.

It's dark inside - flickering bulbs and oil lamps. Near the fringes of town, the murmur of voices and low jazz notes slipping through what remained of the glass-cracked windows.

Floors stained by god knows what, the bartop sticky against your elbow as your chin props on your palm. Full of all kinds of folk that would like to sink their teeth into you. Tear you from limb to limb.

But, they said you'd find him here. The him still undetermined, but for the amount of caps they're paying you, you were willing to take a leap of faith.

“Know 'em when you seem 'em," The man grunted. Giving you an appraising once-over, arms crossing over his chest, "Hard to miss. Black hat and a long coat. Five hundred caps for 'im dead. Boss don't want him alive."

You pick apart that detail in your head.

Reading between the lines. Either your target pissed someone off real bad, or he was too dangerous to be brought in.

Neither bode well for you, but you've been in this game long enough that you have a few tricks up your sleeve.

The scattering of tables look like campfires out on the open plains. Pockets of light, your eyes squinting - trying to find your quarry. Trying not to look too interested, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. No good could come from a gunfight here.

Eventually you catch him, from the corner of an eye. A tipped-down hat, a hint of that black coat and a leather vest from the bit of light from the table next to him. The dregs of something dark left swimming in a dull glass, the cut edges worn down from years of use.

You send another his way, a sweet smile for the bartender and a couple extra caps to make sure it makes it there.

Easier to get the job done at close range.

A drink paired with another doe-eyed smile. A murmured, well-placed “let’s get out of here” - and he’d be yours. Always worked like a charm, in a place like this.

Nursing your own drink as your legs cross, the collar of your jacket turned up. Shielding your face, as you do a quick check - loosening the snap on your holster. The sheath hidden at the small of your back.

When you look again, a jolt rings through you when you realize his eyes are already on you.

Almost as if he’d noticed you first - his gaze dark under the brim of his hat. The flip of his hand on the table - palm upright, two fingers crooking.

Beckoning you to him.

There’s something about him that you can sense from even here. Hairs on the back of your neck standing up, a stutter of your heartbeat.

You could still run. Cut ties and pass on through to the next town. Tell them it didn't shake out, if you ever have to take a bounty here again.

But you're drawn to him. Curious. It's been a while since a bounty has piqued your interest. It was always the same-old.

Raider with a chem problem. Man who stole something. A no-good scoundrel who ran off with a rich man's wife.

It has you moving. Slipping from the stool. Making your way through the dim room, to where a lean leg extends, kicking out the chair in front of them.

Three tables away and suddenly there's a hand darting out, pinching hard at your elbow. Sending you off balance as you grasp at their hand, nails sinking into their wrist. Your lip curling in a snarl, as you're tugged towards the man that sits, thighs spread wide.

"Been a while since somethin’ as pretty as you's been here." You can smell the sweat that clings to him, layered with the stench of watered-down beer, "What say you spend some time with us?"

His companion leers, and your pulse spikes. A hand drifting carefully towards your gun, the grit of your jaw as your mind races through your options.

There's a shadow behind you. Catching you in it, as the man’s eyes flicker to something above your shoulder.

"This one's mine, " The stranger drawls, “Why don’t you fellas find another toy to play with?”

A flash of something silver at his hip that has the man letting go.

Their eyes shifting away uneasily as you snatch your arm back. Turning to face the stranger, the grateful “thank you” already on the tip of your tongue.

But as you free it, his head tilts. Face catching the light, and you realize your savior isn't a stranger after all.

He's your target.

And... he's a ghoul.

The Ghoul, to be precise. He has to be - no one else talks like him, that old-world drawl. His reputation preceding him, you had heard time again just how efficient and ruthless he could be.

For a moment, you’re transfixed. Stuck staring up at him - across the cut of his cheekbones and the hollow of his eyes. A low flip in your stomach, for more than one reason. Something going soft, and then low and warm inside you.

Oh. You might just be over your head.

“Huh.” His eyes narrow, as he regards you. Doing their own slow sweep, from the top of your head down to the dust on your boots.

Something must have piqued his interest as well - there’s a slow jerk of his head towards the table, though he does not move.

Making you squeeze past him - your hips brushing up against his to pass by.

The drink still sits, untouched. An arm slung across the back of the booth that lines the back wall, as you fold into the chair opposite.

It’s only here that you get a real good look at him. The pulled-tight skin, reddened with radiation. The dark cavern of his nose.

His eyes are pretty. A shade that makes you think of the weather when things grow cool, late in the year. The lingering green before the earth turns brown for the colder winter months.

You think you wouldn’t mind them on you.

Not at all.

The Ghoul's knuckles tap the glass, nudging it towards you - bringing you back from your swirl of thoughts. His gaze fixed on yours, with the rasp of his voice.

"Ladies first."

You blink at him, "I got this for you."

A way to distract him. To open a window of opportunity, a way to get close enough to slip a knife between his ribs.

Or, that had been the plan.

There's the ghost of a smile. The peek of teeth as his tongue runs across them, as his head cocks to the side. Those eyes narrowing.

"Only a few reasons why a lady like yourself would get a fella a drink."

The lightness of his tone is betrayed by the careful way he watches you, down to the minute furrow of your brow - how your tongue peeks out to wet your own lips, “Here for a job, or for something else.”

The mention of a job makes your stomach clench, until you realize he must think you’re there to strike one with him.

"Either way, be in my best interest to ensure it hasn't been... tampered with.”

Perhaps not.

Perhaps you’d have to work harder… though the tight tether you have on your plan has started to slip through your fingers.

"You think I'd be capable of something like that?" Your eyes go wide with feigned innocence. Only half-acting, now.

Elbows propped on the table - a lean that does wonders for the hint of cleavage hidden in the loosened buttons of your shirt.

"Still workin' that out," His eyes sweep over yours, before dipping down to your mouth. And then, lower, "But, I think I got a good idea."

His voice lowers then. "Drink."

And so, you do.

The liquor is harsh when it hits your tongue. Strong and bitter - his eyes trained on the column of your throat as you swallow. A hand extended as you pass the glass to him. Fingers brushing, your bare ones against his worn leather gloves.

It's lifted to his lips after. His tongue dragging over the rim, where your lips had been - before he's tipping the glass back. Taking half of the rest with a long swallow.

"Maybe I just wanted to show my appreciation." You coo, "Heard all about you, after all."

"Is that right?" There’s another smirk - before his head is tipping, appraising, “This the only way you show your… appreciation?”

Your heart races, as you give him your best winning smile.

"Well, let's say you and I find out?"

Your moan is ragged, teeth biting hard into your arm in an attempt to muffle the sound. Never making it further than the back-alley of the bar.

His voice had been low, as he followed you out the side door. A growled out, “We doin’ this?”

Eyes watching the twitch of your hands, his own tensed at his sides. Twin wires, strung tight.

Your mouth had tipped up to meet his, instead of your blade. Teeth and tongue and the wandering press of hands as he backed you against the building, your shoulders scraping against the worn brick in the darkness.

Would be a shame, you had thought. Not to find out what this was.

This something that almost had a physical weight - that dulled the sharp edge of your senses. Never expecting to feel this way, as desire crashes soundly over you.

You could always find him again after.

Tomorrow, maybe.

Finish the job then.

But that was before.

Before the bottom of your resolve fell out, with the press of his thigh, when it rocked against your core. His hip digging into yours, so you can feel how hard he is for you.

A whine in your throat, a knowing tone in his rough answer.

“’ve got you. Know just what you need.”

He had spun you around - your wrists caught in his hand, the brick biting into your skin where he pinned them.

Legs kicked wide with his boots, the soft clink of belts and spurs and the solid press of his chest into your back as you rocked back needily against him.

You let him take you apart.

Split you open on his cock, as he does nothing to quiet your sounds. Teeth bared - his own moan bitten back as he feels the way you clench down, wet and warm around him as his hips pound into you. Breath hot where it fans against your neck.

“And whose did I say you were?”

It has your eyes fluttering shut, as his hand curls around your hip - slipping between your thighs.

“Yours.” You gasp.

His breath is ragged in your ear, “That’s right.”

You keen when he circles your clit, his fingers slick with your arousal. Everything else fading, expect for how he buries himself deep with each thrust, the way he has you winding higher and higher.

That last grip of the tether inside you loosening, when you finally let go.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” The Ghoul rasps, when he feels how you tremble in his arms, “Don’t you worry, ‘cause when I’m through with you...”

“You’re gonna forget all about why you’re here.”

how I imagine the cooper pov: “you’re either here to fight or fuck… and for you darlin’, I might just be down for either.”

thank you so much for the request!! I hope you liked this! 💖

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout smut #fallout series

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ MAGNESIUM

tw. noncon, blood, branding/marking, some pretty egregious dirty talk and degradation, threats, mirror sex, horror elements, knife play, manipulation, murder, little bit of gore, there be a dead body in here somewhere wordcount. 6.3k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by a lovely lovely person whomst im so grateful for ♡ i reallyyy liked writing sakusa a lot so i hope you like it and it is what you hAd IN MINDDD!! this was such a fun commission thank yoUU a ton seriously! mwUah ♡♡♡ i hopeee you enjoy!!! kiSsES once again a million million kisses to everyone who helped read through it when i was struggling you're the bestest ilY

sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

It’s almost impossible to believe that everything led up to - this. You’re slumped against the car door in the back, and though you’re not knocked out, you sort of wish you were. Instead you have to feel the hard glare Kiyoomi sends you through the rear view mirror each time his eyes flick up as he reverses out of the street. There’s tension so thick that you can’t just cut it, but it’s troubling the air between you two like polluted water. Silence drags on until you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to warm up.

“Where are we going?” You whisper. 

The man in front smoothly turns the corner, as an almost impalpable furrow moves his brow. It takes him too long to answer for your liking, as you shuffle in the leather seat, unable to get comfortable. “I don’t like fighting with you, but you always push me.” The dry tone and answer says everything his eyes can’t. “Tonight pissed me off, you know? I’m not ever gonna let you go.”

“All this because Atsumu complimented me?” You try, and when that doesn’t get a reaction - not even a blink, your hands clamp together. “He’s like that to everyone. He was calling Hinata ‘real handsome’ all evening.” Nothing. The Kiyoomi you fell in love with was a bit sarcastic and clumsy in his words, but he wasn’t ever cruel. Wasn’t ever purposefully standoffish. What seems left of him is only the brittle, icy void. You would’ve been better off breaking up days ago.

He also would’ve given the blond the benefit of the doubt.

You can basically feel the smile shine off of your face closing the billowing curtains against the golden light, looking back at the dark-haired beauty splayed out over your bed. You clear your voice. “So what’s the deal with your teammate- that Miya guy?” Kiyoomi’s brow raises a few millimeters. “He’s serious? He’s really like that all the time?”

“The whole flirtatious act?” Your boyfriend yawns into the question, before rolling over so that his muscular shoulders, pecks, and that pretty waist are even more distracting. It’s infuriating how good he looks. But you nod, and place yourself down on the edge - where he trails a lazy hand over the back of your hand. “Oh, yeah. He has this overflowing… charisma that you can’t help but get used to, and learn to appreciate.” He chuckles when you frown. “He drives me up the wall. But he’s a good guy.”

“Hmm?” Your pout is instantly enough to have him reaching around to pull you down onto him. “You’re not worried?”

You try to blink away tears, and stare out the window instead, at every light that flashes past. More to yourself than to him, you hiccup as you brush away the wobbly lines of heat down your cheeks. “You’ve been acting so— different.” He barely glances before turning too comfortably at the next lights, speeding up enough to make your chest feel tight. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I want you to go back to how you were.” That’s the only way you can put it. It’s like there’s nothing left.

Kiyoomi’s mouth corners drop at your confession, but he doesn’t speak. You’re not sure you want him to anyway. His free hand runs through his brushed back hair, long fingers sitting still against the steering wheel when they land. And they don’t move again as you sit in the quiet cold.

“Worried?” He repeats, calm expression changing into a grin. “Please, Miya fucking wishes.” You laugh when his lips start dragging down your pulse and he softly moans against you. “You’ve got way better taste than that. In neighbors - and,” his kisses get a little more hot and needy when his large hands glide down your body to grab your ass and pull you closer, “in boyfriends- and in perfume— you smell sexy, ‘s that new?”

You giggle harder, can’t help but get flustered when he gets so touchy. “I’ll get an inflated ego if you compliment me so much.” He shrugs, and positions you better onto his broad chest. But still. “How don’t you get jealous? I’m pretty sure I would if the roles were reversed.” His dark hair is splayed out over the pillow when he drops his head back, and those pretty eyes flick over your face for a second, thinking.

“I do,” he eventually breathes, “but not because of you, and definitely not with Miya Atsumu.” When you start giggling again, he frowns. “I mean, truly- genuinely-” You snort, and he stares at you with an affronted look. “If you wanna run into the egotistical, bombastic, borderline- pathetic sunset with that guy, I might have to take a long, hard look at myself. Wonder what horrible traits you’re dating me for.” His eyes fall back to you when you take a deep breath, and he goes a little bit softer as you nuzzle up under his chin. “You wanna leave me for a shitty dye job?”

“I don’t think so,” you whisper back. He looks much too at ease in the comfort of your now shared apartment.

The silence that once felt so comfortable, now squeezes the life out of you with all it’s got. Only after a few minutes, Kiyoomi’s voice reaches out, and the shiver down your neck seems to screw the icy collar down tighter.

“Y’know, I hate how that Miya looks at you. Makes me want to carve his fucking eyes out.”

+

About a week into living in Tokyo, you decide it’s not all that bad. Hauling along the giant box of fresh veggies and two more bags of groceries, you can barely look over enough to watch the elevator open, and hasten your steps. “Hold the door, please! There’s no way I’m doing the stairs today,” you sigh, and watch as the doors ping. You slide in just in time, and a deep chuckle follows when your arms start slowly folding with the weight.

“That’s … some collection you’ve got there,” the deep voice continues, “did I miss the call on doomsday?”

You manage to turn yourself enough to see the pair of warm, obsidian eyes staring down at you - soft curly hair freshly wet from a shower. The eggplants and pumpkins in your box start rolling toward the edge, so you shift the box onto your side with a struggling smile. “No, I- I like to buy in big batches and pre-chop everything to freeze. I don’t really love cooking so… that way I save- some time while still…” You fall quiet when he keeps your gaze without any reaction, and clear your voice. Most of his face is kept behind a black surgical mask, hiding what you imagine to be the rest of a handsome face.

But no one likes being stuck in unwanted small talk, do they. He nods though, right as you arrive on your floor and the doors slide open. “That’s smart. I’ll have to try that sometime.” The box starts slipping further. The noiret’s eyes go from your face to your white-knuckled grip, and then back. “Would you like some help with that?”

“Please,” you can’t say quickly enough, afraid that one wrong move will send the entire box rolling across the floor. It’s not like you to admit defeat so easily, but currently your pride could cost you a hundred on fresh produce, and— he doesn’t seem like the type to ask if he’d mind. Your neighbor doesn’t say anything, but his eyes crinkle a little with a smile. Aside from some very brief passings in the hallway, you haven’t had the chance to meet any of your building’s occupants yet. He doesn’t bat an eye when lifting the very heavy box out of your arms, and you fluster. “Sorry for the hassle.”

“No, it’s alright. I have the afternoon off - ‘s nothing. You’re the new 3B tennant, right?” He frees one hand just to slide his mask down when you nod your face towards your door. He’s probably the prettiest guy you’ve seen to date, strong jawline, full lips and an almost perfectly straight nose; dark curls framing smart, observant eyes. So not only is he tall and charming, he’s also hot. When you mumble a soft acknowledgement, he gives you a little smile, and you can’t help but feel a bit too seen. “I’m Kiyoomi.”

You think you like Kiyoomi.

+

The heat of hands shakes you out of sleep with a slight startle, and the surprise soon makes way for a wave of rolling pleasure mixed under a heavy layer of embarrassment - at the way Kiyoomi’s toying with your body like it’s his own, and the low chuckle he lets out when you let out a pinched whimper. One of his hands is two fingers deep inside your pussy by the time you can even blink the sleep out of your eyes, feeling the warmth flood onto your face. As slick gathers between your thighs, he pushes himself up above you, and squeezes your throat between his free fingers.

“Sorry for waking you up, baby.” There’s a sharp glint in his eyes that you can’t miss even with the low light, deep from within. His hand slides down the curve of your spine to settle around your hip, pressing you further into bed as your back arches when he curls his fingers without any mercy. Though you are leaving wetness all over his hand, the sudden invasion is still a little jarring, definitely when he starts sucking at your tits and bites down. “Omi, ow,” you breathe, and he only grunts as he nudges a thigh between your knees, spreading you apart. “Right now?”

“Shhh, just bear it for a bit,” he mumbles back, as his hand trails down your ribcage and forces your body to adjust to him when he hikes your leg over his shoulder. “Woke up so hard thinking of you, and- you were so cute just sleeping here next to me without a worry in the world.” His fingers are replaced quickly by the hot head of his cock, that is slid a few inches too deep right away, and your whimpering only drives him further. “Ah, fuck, there it is. Good- fucking- girl…” By the time he bottoms out there’s silvery slivers running down your face and you’re shaking your head as the ache has you moaning with pain.

But the dark haired man above you barely gives you any time to adjust, before he starts rocking himself against your center and rubbing himself deep enough to force your mouth shut. “You trust me, don’t you, angel?” He pants, stroking the inside of your thigh a few times, before starting a punishing rhythm that rocks the bed hard. The question takes you off guard, but it doesn’t seem like Kiyoomi needs an answer to keep going anyway, and you swallow down your whimper to hide your face in the pillow. He’s so big and rough and your body can’t keep up. “Oh, your pussy’s so fucking good. So tight and- warm, agh, fuck.”

Jutting out your lip into a little pout, you let out a little noise. You’re trying not to let the way he’s basically getting himself off inside you ruin your mood. After a moment, you blink up at him with wobbly vision. “Can you kiss me?” He takes a few seconds before the words register, fucking you harder each time he bottoms out— before his dark eyes go from your eyes to your lips like he’s having to debate it. And that hurts. He decides maybe against better judgment to lean in anyway, and presses his lips to yours with a low sigh, an almost moan that you suppose you have to be content with. 

He pushes your knee up to your chest as he gets closer, and the heavy pressure of his body on yours gets even more unbearable when his free hand wraps around your neck and presses until you’re gasping out. Your boyfriend’s eyes glint as they flick all over your face, and a small grin starts to travel up his lips. “Don’t you like me better like this?” You’re too distracted by the pounding in your head to answer, and whine out his name as your back arches off the bed. And Kiyoomi pants as he forces you to take each thrust. “I like you a lot. Wanna keep you.” You throw your head back, and reach around his wide shoulders to pull him even closer, trying to lock your legs around his waist with a sigh.

“Shit, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he pants into your mouth as he rocks himself into you, forehead to forehead as your nails dig into his skin. You feel bad, but you can’t help but pull him closer by his shoulders as the shower water trickles between you two and makes the entire room a steamy mix of pants and sweaty touches. “So-” he kisses messily, making you smile as his tongue swipes yours, “-damn pretty. I love your body so much.”

“And me?” You breathe back, letting your body tremble in his strong hands as he rocks himself so deep inside you that it’s making you breathless. Your little whine makes him stare, and nod.

“Of course I love you even more— don’t be silly- agh, fuck.” You move one hand to brush the wet tresses of hair out of his face and let yourself get moved up and down him, thighs wrapped ever so tight around his narrow waist. He breathes your name like the word itself is lovely, and you can’t help but moan a long whimper of his name when he hits the right spot so perfectly. “You feel so good, taking my cock right in there- that tight, little pussy. Drooling all over me, huh.” Another kiss as you swallow your mix of spit and rest your hand on his cheek. “You drive me crazy. I really- ugh- really love you, baby.”

Your tits brush up against his chest. “Promise?”

“Uhuh, mh-ahg. Promise. I can’t get enough of you.”

Sometimes you swear you can hear the house close in around you with heavy breaths.

+

The door to your apartment already hangs open when you notice the noise. The low thumping that is only audible when you slide the headphones off, a vaguely rhythmic noise that makes the hairs on your neck stand. You slide off the bed with a little frown, and smooth the wrinkles in your camisole as you peer into the open apartment area - which is empty. “Babe?” The door wobbles when the wind passes through, and your frown only digs deeper into your face when there’s no answer.

“Kiyoomi?”

The noise is louder when you walk towards the hall, and fist your hands into the bottom of the flimsy dress to pull it down. Only after a few moments of thought, your instinct drives you across the hall to pull open the door of the neighbors’, a young guy who moved in after you two did. Sure enough, your stomach drops as the scene splays out before you. There’s red all over the floor, Kiyoomi’s hands, and most horrifying - all over Ryouta’s nose and mouth as the barrage of fists lands over and over again— and you let out a horrified gasp. The damage has already been done, the brunet lays back with swollen eyes and is no longer fighting back, and you’re basically stunned in place as his knuckles crack on his cheek again.

When you manage the next breath, you force out a call of his name between tears. “Hck- Kiyoomi- w-what are you-,” your voice sounds too tiny to be your own, but any more volume doesn’t make it out of your throat, “please stop.” The last crack that resounds before he stops is even harder than any of the ones before— and he gets up without a word, smoothing his jersey back in place. He only quiets a moment, before turning over his shoulder to look at you. You, wobbling toward him like a baby deer.

Honestly, you don’t want to worry about him. But you can’t help but take his hands in yours to inspect the split knuckles, bloody and bruised— as if this is some bizarre dream. Kiyoomi’s precious about his hands. They’re his dreams, his passions, and his opportunities all in one, something to be cared for, rested gently like they mattered more than anything else. And now they’re bloodied like animals at the slaughter. When you look up at him- there’s no regret, no worry or care or concern. Just a blank sort of faux-understanding of your worry when he reaches out to brush your cheek.

You pull back away to look instead at the young man on the floor, because if you think about it too hard, you might start sobbing. Your hands drop by your thighs and feel so heavy, tears drying on your face. “Why did you-”

“Got back from my run and he said he needed your help.” There’s a cold, detached resolution in his voice. “And I told him to forget it, and then he asked me what ‘the fuck’ my problem was.” You find yourself shrinking into yourself when his dark eyes shift to you, with that unreadable look in his eye once more. His hands are slid into his pant pockets with a soft sigh, but he still raises an eyebrow your way. “Why would another guy need my girl?” Ryouta’s been nothing but nice to you since he moved in. You believed, maybe mistakenly, that that niceness had extended to your boyfriend.

But staring at the poor, battered face of the guy on the floor— something tells you that even if it did, Kiyoomi no longer cares. It feels like really, he’ll take any excuse to lash out. Your eyes flick over his face again, before swallowing. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.” For the first time since you’ve noticed this new side to him, you’re truly scared when he eyes you down. You’ve been upset, and worried, and angry before - but this is new. As the only sound between you two is the shallow rise and fall of your chest, you try to walk up and wrap your arms around his bicep. “I love you, Kiyoomi. I have only ever… loved you.”

He frees a hand to run it over your hair, before leaning down to rest his nose at your crown. “I know you do. You’re a smart little thing, that’s why I like you.” His training jacket still smells like mint and eucalyptus wash sheets, and it does absolutely nothing to soothe the aching pressure that makes its way between your ears and squeezes. And the soft kiss to your forehead doesn’t, either. “Get back inside. I’ll be right there in a bit.”

+

Your apartment is barely a shell of itself now. You realize it -truly realize it- when you toss and turn in your bed and can’t help but get stuck on little things that shouldn’t matter, but they do. The sheets are different, silkier somehow. Kiyoomi got new toothbrushes instead of the old ones with dolphins, and your entire apartment smells just different enough to make it pressing. Slightly bleachy, and too hospital-like. A blue haze is cast through the window by the moon when you softly slip out of bed, ignoring the way a soft puff comes from your boyfriend. He doesn’t stir as you move, though his empty hand seems to reach for the heat you left. Normally you’d wonder if he misses you when you go, but instead the reach just feels possessive. 

It’s like living with a brand new boyfriend all over again.

You don’t like it as much the second time, you realize, trying to choke down the bad air you’re breathing. As you wobble around in the dark, it’s hard to find your footing. The door clicks too loud for your liking when you brush it closed behind you, and slide down onto the couch as your eyes adjust to the dark. You feel like you’re hanging off the edge of falling apart as you look around the room— and try to think. That night when he came home, when he stared off into space and wouldn’t talk to you, your first thought was of another woman. Kiyoomi had never given you any reason to doubt.

He was handsome and intelligent and you were lucky to have him, but he always made it easy to trust him. If he wanted to be with you he’d be with you.

But as more and more days passed, small things got bigger. Not letting you call friends, not letting you dress how you wanted to, glaring at anyone who so much as looked up at you on the street. He’d never been so possessive when things were good. Still, you don’t want to mourn a relationship that isn’t even over yet. You cover your sniffles into your hand, and get up from the couch to go search through his jacket for his phone, or wallet. A stray bobby pin or earring, anything to make sense of the mess inside your head. You wouldn’t be proud of this in the morning - but your brain is eating itself alive. The apartment’s so quiet at night, and the old building pants and moans in the darkness.

The small closet is hotter than the rest of the apartment, more damp too. The jackets are piled high on the dryer, and though you shove your hand down every pocket, your search turns up empty. After a few seconds of turning the last pair of pockets inside out, you sink down into a crouch— and take a deep breath. Just a few weeks ago, you’d thought that you could see yourself marrying Kiyoomi. You’d spent hours by his side, convinced that no one in the world knew you better than he did.

A soft whistling noise sounds from behind the dryer, and makes you wipe your hand under your nose. There’s an old door to a bricked up stairway here, that you never got any use out of. Kiyoomi once stored some brooms there, you think. You don’t know what possesses you to slide your hands into the narrow space between the dryer and the wall and pull, but with some force- it moves. You strain to drag it aside until you jerk, scrambling up.

A track of blood.

Smeared over your normally proper linoleum, there’s a dried off-maroon that can only be blood, crusted onto the wood as a dark patch between the dryer and the door. Your chest caves. Instead of normal breaths, shallow gasps start making your entire body go solid and cold, and your throat dries up. This can’t … it isn’t real. Can’t be. Everything inside you tries to convince you that this is just a nightmare, but even as you pinch your arm hard, nothing happens.

Blood rushes to your bruised knees as you look around, trying not to panic too hard— instead put a shaky hand on the handle. It could be rusty water. A busted pipe. As you move at a glacial pace to open the door, it creaks, and you lick your lips. You can’t cry. You want nothing more than to explode into a dam of tears and unload, but it’s like your body refuses. Every second makes your body pump with adrenaline, until the door clicks open and reveals the narrow space - and in it, something that doesn’t make sense.

Blood pools on the floor, dulled, matted and a disgusting, sticky mess that has you gasping; only to hold back a gag. But in it, sits the slumped, unmoving body of your boyfriend.

The same boyfriend you were sleeping next to just a few minutes ago.

Every hair on your body rises when you choke on the smell, and sink down to press your fingers to his pulse— even when the off white pallor of his face says everything it should. “Omi?” You whisper, and when you breathe out, your throat closes up. You want to wake up. Your first coherent thought is that you can’t breathe; the next, to run. There’s no more heat in his skin, icy to the touch, and it frightens you so much that you jerk back and slam the door to the closet, stopping abruptly between the couch and the door.

It’s when the lights flick on that you do regret that.

Kiyoomi’s voice sounds deeper when you turn. As he stares at you, he brushes his messy curls out of his face. “What are you doing?” You don’t speak. Nothing but a shallow hiccup makes it out of your mouth, but you’re still holding out your hands like they’ve been burned, and maybe that’s enough for him to slide his eyes over to the closet. For a moment it stays quiet. So quiet that you can hear the blood rush beneath your skin, pumping with adrenaline you have no room for. Kiyoomi’s dead. Your Kiyoomi’s dead, isn’t he. “Ah.”

“I- I-”

“You weren’t supposed to go snooping, angel. You’re really making things difficult.” The noiret’s quiet calmness makes way for a slight smile, before he steps out of the doorway towards you. And you flatten yourself to the wall on shaky legs, but moving any more than that feels impossible. You’ve never been so scared in your life— literally frozen solid to the wall as your panicked hiccups send tears welling up in thick, childish bubbles that refuse to tip. He gives you an up and down, before pointing at you as he walks over to the closet, and sighs. “Don’t move.”

You couldn’t, even if you had the courage to. And you very much don’t. It’s so cold— you watch as he pushes into the small room only to drag the body you’d left there out of it. The heavy scraping noise of a limp body across the floor is almost enough to have you totally break. When he dumps the body in the middle of your shared living room, you manage to let out a few noises, strangled, pathetic noises, before you wring your hands together. “W-what did you do to Kiyoomi?”

“I am Kiyoomi,” he says back with enough certainty to shake you, and then smiles a little when finally the tears spill, and you shake your head left and right through your panic.

“You’re not—” is all you can squeak before he walks up to you too close and grabs your face, leaving sticky cold blood with his touch. Your cheek is almost held lovingly, but one glance up at his eyes convinces you that it’s anything but. It’s predatory, a mean glitter of amusement that plays in the darkness, and the harder you cry, the giddier it seems to get. “Let me go, p-please,” you sniffle, “let me go. I won’t tell, I just don’t wanna be- h-here.”

“Shhh, we might as well pretend I’m him still. You look so cute whining that name like it’s your fucking job.” He takes you by the hand after pressing a brief kiss on your forehead, and then sits you down onto the couch. And your chest still feels much too rattled to think about running anywhere, but when he pushes one finger into your mouth with a slight grin, you consider it. “Don’t know any better, do you?” He groans. You want to bite and run, and hide until everything stops pounding— but run where? Your boyfriend’s cold on the floor of your apartment. You can barely stop crying for long enough to take a breath, and the man above you pushes another finger down your throat. “Such a pretty little girlfriend I’ve got- look here-” 

You do - can’t help it when the pressure starts choking you, and whatever frightened look you’re giving him, is enough to make him groan long and hard. It fucks with your brain. It’s still your boyfriend- looks, smells, tastes the same- and if you stop paying attention for a few seconds, it’s almost like everything is back to normal. It’s almost like you’re safe as long as you pretend not to notice what’s going on around just you and the invasive touches that are forced onto you. “Man, you look so fucking wrecked, baby. Say my name, won’t you?” His grin is wide and cheshire-like when he leans in and starts nudging your top down your shoulders. “Say ‘please, Kiyoomi’.”

He doesn’t move his fingers out of the way to allow you. Instead you whimper around his fingers, and try not to choke as spit gets all over your chin and his hand. “Pwea-se, Kiy-oomi.”

“Hahah, you’re so fucking nasty, getting spit all over me. Drooling like a fucking dog while you’re being forced— You like whining and moaning for me?” He takes his fingers out to wipe them on your flimsy camisole and stands to start sliding down his boxers, pushing you back towards the couch. The small grin changes to a tight grimace when you try to grab at him for comfort. “Ah ah ah, don’t think so.” There’s a fistful of hair in his hand before you can apologize, as he shoves you face down towards the couch and holds you there, cheek pressed to the rough fabric. Until your face is hung just off the side, and you’re forced to face the trail of blood that ends in a familiar face.

It’s horrible, and the harder you squeeze your eyes shut against the wave of fresh tears, the deeper the image seems to force itself into your brain. “Kiyoomi~” You whimper pathetically, and he hums in response. Everything’s too close, too loud, his touch is too real and too pressing and warm— burning you from the inside out as he yanks your clothing the last bit down until it hangs around your waist and he drags his fingers up and down your slit through your panties a few times. It leaves the wet fabric awfully sticky against your pussy, and your cheeks get hotter. It’s not your fault, his fingers work you in ways that always work. That thought has your eyes flicking open, but the horrific sight has yet to disappear. “Mh-hck,” you start up again, and try to roll aside as he grabs your thigh hard to hold you in place. “I wanna stop. I wanna stop.”

“Aw, poor baby. Poor angel.” The dismissive tone is cooed as a loving mockery when he pushes you down between your shoulder blades and yanks your panties the rest of the way down. “You don’t even know what to do with yourself, huh?” He then yanks your head up so you’re forced to stare at your reflection in the window, unable to see anything else. You can’t close your eyes to hide from it. Kiyoomi’s grabbing you tight enough to have you unable to move. “I’ll give you a hint. You lay here and you take it. You just listen nice and sweet, ugh-” He groans low when pushing the hot head of his cock against your entrance, patting it with a patient sigh— only to push in with a force that makes you jerk.

Why does it hurt so much? You wanna cry harder when he forces all the heavy girth of his cock inside you and the wetness dripping between your legs squelches loud, but your throat’s too clogged to. Instead only a pinched moan comes out, and he grunts when bottoming out deep inside you. “Girls who don’t listen make me wanna cut them open and eat their insides out. Would you like that?” The pull on your hair forcing your head up is making you lightheaded. That, and the stinging, uncomfortable tightness inside your pussy, squeezing and clenching against the intrusion - still isn’t enough to drown out the horror of those words as he whispers them.

Almost instantly you shake your head left and right, and your muffled ‘no’s melt into a childish cry. “No, nonono, Omi- ‘yoomi- I, no~ pleas-hck- stop. Wanna stop.” He pulls back his hips for long enough to really let you feel the ache of your walls as they cling to his cock, but then thrusts back in and bounces you on his cock. He drops your head back to the side of the couch, and places a hand in the middle of your spine to anchor you down under his weight. 

“You don’t? I think you’re lying. You want to be treated like a sack of meat.” His hips make a loud sound when connecting with your ass. “You don’t like this?”

“Ow, oww, Omi- ‘hurts-” You’re fighting against the caving of your chest each time you exhale, and forced to take shorter breaths each time he fucks back into you. “Ah, ow.” And your pussy hurts, but the rolling of his hips and the stubborn, deep grinding is too overwhelming. You hate that you can hear the wetness of your cunt squeezing around the pumping of him inside, you hate the way he breathes above you, how you can feel him everywhere. It makes you sick. It’s all too much, and still it feels so fucking good that you’re hot in the face. “Mhm~ ‘m sorry. I’m sorry.” You blink through the tears to stare just a second at the trail of blood that he made from the closet to the couch— but you can’t make yourself look any closer. Instead you aim your eyes back at your reflection, and meet other eyes.

“You haven’t wanted to play with me much since I got here. ‘S your own fault that I’m all pent up now, stupid girl.” The steady rhythm in and out of your needy pussy is too much. It feels so good— and you hate it. You clench your hands into the couch as best you can and try to hang on, until your knuckles turn white. The noiret’s voice is back to taunt you, this time as his other hand reaches around to grab the soft of your throat and squeeze, shaking you back to him. “If you want your nice, reliable Kiyoomi, look- he’s right here for you.” You can’t. You can’t. Your tears well over in ugly rivers that you shut behind your lids, and Kiyoomi makes a noise.

You can’t tell if it’s a pleased noise or not, you don’t care. He rolls his hips, and your cunny accepts too eagerly. But it still feels so fucking good. And you can’t stop yourself from feeling like the worst person in the world. Your hands shake, and your head feels faint. Kiyoomi’s dead. There’s nothing else to know. Kiyoomi’s dead and you’re about to cum getting fucked— your whimper gives you away. It’s faint, but he hears it. “Hm, you don’t like him either now huh?” Instead of squeezing your throat, his hand moves to grab your tit instead, pinching your puffy nipple until you can’t help but make a noise. You’re so gross. And your pussy’s still pulling him back in, clenching to the pulsing heat as it fucks right into the softest part of your walls. “I- agh, f- I like bullying my pretty little cock sleeve to tears. So- f-fucking cute like this.”

He ruts into you until your belly feels hot and tingly, and you grind back against him on instinct. You’re getting so close, the pinching, the precise way he hits the needy spot deep inside you - you don’t even want to. “No, no- Omi, I’m- agh, please stop.” You really don’t. “I’m- I’m gonna—” But before you can stop it, your eyes squeeze shut, and your entire body goes tense. The tight ball of heat that’s been expanding all over your body with each pump, each time his heavy balls slap against you, explodes into a million pieces. “Kiyoomi, I love you, I’m so- sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s— all my fault.”

As he fucks you through the blooming heat and the white and black spots that play on your lids, he groans your name low and possessive. Your clenching only slows way after you’ve grinded yourself back against him and drooled all over the couch, until your tired body drops back into the plush. And Kiyoomi lets out a little chuckle. “Yea, it’s all your fault, stupid girl. You lay here and stay— I’ll be right back.” You barely feel the heat leave until it comes back, shoving some of the wetness from your sensitive pussy right back inside with a grunt, and a harsh tap of his hand to your pussy. The sting is sharp, and you glare through your tears as you look up. Not that he cares. “Here. Look. Kiss it.”

The sharp blade that’s basically shoved in your face glints when you hesitate, and suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “Come on. Or else I’ll put it to use on him instead, and you don’t want that, do you?” Your lips press against the cold metal, but your eyes stay resolutely on his face. Dark curls framing dark eyes and long lashes — you often told him he was the most beautiful man you knew. You wonder if he remembered it in the end. You suppose it doesn’t matter though, watching his mirror click his tongue.

“Good girl, such a good baby girl under all the crying and mess, aren’t you? Almost make me think you like me better like this after all.” You can’t answer, but the tears that wobble sadly along your waterline spill over in the silence— and your lip wobbles. And Kiyoomi only brushes a thumb along your lip, before shrugging. “No? That’s a shame. Because you are mine now. Mine. All of you.” He points the knife into the top of your leg, and leaves behind a mark that immediately wells up with dotted red. The immediate pain and sting of hot blood sears through your skin. “Tell me again what name you want me to write? Say it nice and sweet, angel.”

Your voice doesn’t shake as much as you think it should. “Kiyoomi.”

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#sakusa x reader #sakusa smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq!! smut #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #tw.noncon #tw.degradation #tw.blood #tw.branding #tw.horror #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.sakusa

[tteokdoroki]

imagine if your bestfriend katsuki was really babyfaced until he hit his 20’s. total late bloomer, aure he went through puberty but his body looked like it had never gotten out of the awkward teen boy phase look!

so, anyways maybe you travel back him for some family time, gone for maybe 3-4 months. Katsuki had already looked really mature, he just had some baby fat, and you teased him, because in your words he still looked like he did when he was 5.

now you’ve come back, and boy, has katsuki grown. you and the group go out on the town, and when you see katsuki he has grown in height, build, and his face is now chiseled. and you cant believe your eyes. the whole night you can’t stop staring, seeing your bestfriend in a new light.

(sorry if this makes no sense im running on a low brain battery lol!)

kissing your brain actually absolutely just smooching it ??

growing up with katsuki and he’s just the kid you guys picked on ever so slightly cause it was easy to get on his nerves — he’d just run home and cry. definitely a mamas boy LMAO !! but you’re both so cute, with gaps in your teeth and messy cheeks and your parents think you’re gonna end up together when you grow up. katsuki thinks that’s gross and you think he’s being mean n you push each other away like ewww grosss even though you were probably crushing on each other back then.

when you’re a little older katsuki is still baby faced and his mom always pinches his cheeks and calls him handsome and does that thing mom’s do where they lick their thumb and use it to wipe their kids face. PLEASE but katsuki is still so cute n hasn’t quite grown into himself yet :(( and when you start hitting 13/14 everyone is talking about the boys they like and who they wanna go to the movies with after school — he doesn’t think you’ll wanna go out with him because you’re best friends and he doesn’t look like the guys in your teen pop magazines or the boy groups you like.

stop he has like braces, he’s a little lanky and his voice is always cracking !!! awkward teen boy katsuki for the win!!! he probably stays like that all the way through high school n then you end up losing touch after graduation/starting college.

but then a few years down the line when you’re back from college your friends are begging you to come to a local bar to catch up — you ask if katsuki will be there and they won’t stop teasing you about it because you haven’t seen each other in ages !! laughing and pointing when he rolls in with your other guy friends, taller, thicker more buff. you’re practically drooling.

the katsuki you knew was shy, and small if he wanted to be but this katsuki is loud. he fills the whole room with his presence, he’s got a waistline that could kill and a jawline so sharp you could cut diamonds on it.

“didn’t your ma ever tell ya starin’ is rude?” bakugou mumbles when he’s close enough to order a drink and you literally melt in your spot — because when did his voice get so deep? basically running through your ears like melted chocolate.

“you’ve changed.” you quip.

“for the better, i hope?”

“yeah… you look good.”

“and so do you,” he comments back smoothly. “but don’cha worry, ‘m still your same old katsuki.”

and god, the way he smirks at you afterwards makes your thighs shake and your stomach do back flips, and you kinda hope your katsuki is a little bolder, a little different when you ask him.

“do you wanna get out of here, katsuki?”

your suspicions are confirmed when bakugou kicks back his shot and says.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugou drabble #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚🗯️੭ — messenger #angelicgirly4444

[mrs-padalecki2341]

Hey bestie, I have an idea for a Dean Smut. I'm thinking friends with benefits turned into couple/lovers troupe. With lyrics from the song Again by Noah Cyrus. Maybe semi rough sex? Whatever you come up with is fine. Im obsessed with this song right now and think it would be perfect for that troupe. Also can they say "I love you" at some point during or after the sex? Please and thank you! <3

Heyy!!! Here you go Bestie, and you know I'll always do your requests! I hope you like it! Love you girl!

~~~

Again

(Dean x Reader)

Warnings/ Promises: Smut, unprotected sex/ creampie (wrap it before you tap it y’all), semi-rough sex, friends with benefits, I think that's it but lmk if I missed something.

Song by Noah Cyrus ft. XXXTentacion

(“All lyrics will be marked as so”)

~~~

You and Dean had been sleeping together for over 9 months now. Whenever one of you needed the other you would just call. And right now, you were going to explode if you weren't fucked senseless within the next few minutes.

Luckily, you didn't live far from their bunker.

You picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts until you found Dean's name then hit the call button.

He picked up on the first ring.

"*What is it, Y/n hon?*" His voice was husky on the other end, as he already knew the answer.

"I'm coming over." You said into the phone.

"*I'll be in my room waiting.*" And with that, he hung up.

(“You just made the worst mistake And you'll regret it, darling 'Cause once you give and then you take You'll only end up wanting”)

In a matter of minutes, you're at the bunker. You pull out your key and turn it in the lock, letting yourself in.

"*I'm here. See you in a sec.*" You send a quick text to Dean as you walk down the stairs into the bunker.

Sam looks up from his laptop as you pass by him in the library and gives you a small wave, in which you return before scurrying off to Dean's room.

You knock twice to let him know you're there and open the door.

As expected, he's already laying on the bed, waiting for you in nothing but his robe.

"Hey, sexy~" You flirt as you close the door and walk over to the bed, sitting beside him.

He smirks and grabs around your waist, pulling you on top of him, causing you to yelp in surprise.

"Hi~" He smiles and gives you a quick kiss as his hands move to your waist. He hooks his thumbs into your waistline, pulling down both your sweatpants and underwear and revealing your ass.

You kick them off the rest of the way and grab at the tie on his robe, undoing the knot and opening it up. You can't help but moan a little at the fact that he's already hard and leaking precum.

He tugs at your shirt and you assist him in pulling it over your head, then you let him reach behind you and unclasp your bra, throwing both garments to the floor.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He gawks, as if he hadn't seen you like this a thousand times.

"You say that every time." You point out, but you still can't help but smile at the compliment.

"Well, it's true. And besides, it's practically routine to say it at this point~" He runs his hands along your naked figure as he speaks.

You just roll your eyes and lean down to kiss him. He groans into it and kisses you back roughly, his left hand finding your hair and tangling into it as his right hand continues to roam your body.

(“(Ooh-ooh-ooh) was everything hard enough? (Ooh-ooh-ooh) 'cause one day you'll wake up And then you'll say”)

You continue to make out, tongues twisting and lips moving in sync, as you reach your hand down between your bodies and wrap your fingers around Dean's cock.

"Son of a-" Dean grumbles in response to the stimulation. "-bitch~" The last word coming out as more of a moan as you squeeze your hand around him.

You chuckle and start moving your hand up and down over his shaft, still squeezing lightly, earning little moans and grunts from him as you do so.

Then, you raise your hips and line him up with your soaked, wanting core before lowering back down onto him with a sigh.

"Mmn, shit, you're tight as hell." He remarks, groaning at the feeling.

"Yeah, I know, it's been too long." You moan back, rocking your hips slowly, letting him stretch you out.

"You can say that again." He rasps, his eyes rolled back in gratification. Him and Sam had been on back-to-back hunts for the past three and a half weeks and this was the first break they've gotten, aka the first chance he's had to fuck you in almost a month, so you were both overdue for this, especially considering you normally fuck 3-4 times a week or more.

Once you'd adjusted to the stretch of his cock, you sped up the pace, bumping your hips faster until you reached a good speed and rhythm.

You both yelled out in moans and screams of pleasure, sending echos through the bunker. Luckily for Sam, he was used to this from the two of you by now and it didn't really bother him.

You kept the up the fast pace, Dean bucking his hips up to meet with yours with each thrust, until you were both howling out as you got closer to finishing.

"Mm- fuh- fu- mmnph- fuck- I'm so- mmn- close..." You sputtered out between yelps and howls.

With that, Dean moved out of you and flipped the both of you, putting him on top so that he could fuck harder into you.

"SHIT-" You gasped out as he pushed into you harder, his hips crashing against yours with the slap of skin on skin with each shove into you.

It wasn't long before you were gripping at the sheets for dear life as Dean continued to roughly slam his cock in and out of you until you couldn't take anymore.

"DEANNN!!!" You screamed through your orgasm, cumming so hard you blacked out for a moment.

You return to consciousness right as Dean yells out and sprays into you, filling you with his hot cum. Then he collapses on the bed, both of you panting like dogs as you come down from euphoria.

Once he had calmed down some, Dean turned to look at you, his face saying that he has something to tell you, but he doesn't know if he should.

Finally, he sighed and just said it.

"Y/n... I want more from this..."

(“"I wanna be your lover I don't wanna be your friend" You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)”)

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused.

"What I mean is..."

There's a long pause before he finally speaks again.

"I love you Y/n..."

Your eyes grow wide in surprise.

"You love me?..." You say after a moment, still trying to process it.

He gives a gentle nod.

(“I-I wanna be your lover Baby, I'll hold my breath You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)”)

"I... I love you too..." You reply with a bit of hesitation after taking a minute to think about what he said.

(“Again, babe, again Again, babe, again You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again”)

"But?..." He asked, knowing there was going to be one by the way you responded.

"But I don't... I'm not sure if I want to be a couple or whatever or not..." You started.

(“Ooh-ooh-ooh, she's screaming in my head Ooh-ooh-ooh, I left her where I slept Somewhere, I can't escape I'm running from myself Somewhere in between in love and broken, I'm in hell”)

"I just... I don't want to make things awkward between us or anything..." You continued. "I mean, we fit with each other perfectly..."

"In more ways than one." He interjected.

"But... I guess I'm just... scared that things might not still be the same if we were together." You let out a sigh.

(“Saying, "I wanna be your lover I don't wanna be your friend" You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)”)

Dean pulled you up against him, cuddling into you. "Don't worry. I'm sure things won't be any different. I'm sure we'll still be just as inseparable as we already are." He reassured you.

"Are you sure?" You still question.

"Yeah. I am. If it makes you feel any better, we could just try it out at first and if it doesn't work, we could always just go back to being friends with benefits." He suggested, his voice calm and sweet.

(“I-I wanna be your lover You're leaving when the clock hits ten You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)”)

"Yeah... That sounds good." You finally decide. You curl up against him and nuzzle your face into his chest. "Good." He sighed in relief.

(“Again, babe, again Again, babe, again You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)”)

"I love you, Dean." You say contently, feeling safe in the comfort of his arms.

"I love you too, Y/n." He answered happily. "I love you so much."

(“Again, babe, again Again, babe, again You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)”)

He gave you a gentle kiss on the head and pulled you in closer. You moved closer as well and let his embrace take away all your problems and worries, falling asleep in his arms.

-SP<3

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #winchester smut #smut #spn smut #dean winchester spn #dean supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester imagine #smut writing #request #spn fic

[sshadowritestoriess]

HELLOOOO im in love with the way you write our beloved rama 😭

i just wanted to know ur hcs about him beginning to realize he feels more about the reader than just friendship and/or how he deals with the first buds of sinful thoughts about their dear human friend? 👀

HI tysm!! Ramattra definitely has my attention hahaha. Sorry this is so long!! I just like writing 😂

Ramattra realizing his feelings

Earning his friendship was a hard enough task on his own. He never made that easy for you, or for anyone of flesh and blood

As much hatred as he has for humanity, he doesn’t outright assume all humans are evil. He understands there is still good in its kind, it’s just a matter of knowing who he is safe to drop his guard around when having more acute interactions

And this is a process he has the utmost forbearance for. As long as a person can express patience with him, then he is more than willing to allow himself to be understood by a human peer

You were probably one of the most respectful humans he had personally interacted with. Your kindness made for a strong first impression, especially in the way you had greeted him as any other person, looked upon him with no surprise in your eyes as if he had just been anyone else. Not a killer. Not a terrorist.

Still, for the ongoing weeks he kept his distance the more he had found himself in the same room as you, assuming his same process of determining whether your behavior was a front or not.

He was as kind to you as you were to him, which made things a little confusing on your end. You weren’t oblivious— you know who he is, and such a name as Ramattra came with a complex reputation. He’s certain he began addressing you as a ‘friend’ the moment you’d inquired why people thought him as ‘cold’

“You’ve been real nice to me,” you’d said, mirth in your tone, “I’m not just getting special treatment, am I?”

It wasn’t the first lighthearted joke you’d made in his presence, but it was the first he’d laughed at. He knew it wasn’t a question that needed answering, and so he didn’t. You were smart enough to assume the reason for rumor

Quickly, you both became close. (Well, ‘quick’ being you set the record for “fastest human to earn Ramattra’s trust”. It took fourteen weeks, but neither of you were counting.)

He was content to admit he admired you, respect drastically outweighing his contempt for what you were. It felt nice, to see you through blurred lines— he felt he finally understood, for just a moment, the bond that his brothers back at the monastery were trying to protect

But the more Ramattra grew to know you, the more he shared about himself. Which, tends to be a normal exchange between friends, certainly. Of the others he would dare call ‘friends’ before you, this wasn’t out of the ordinary

Yet when he would speak too much about himself with you, he felt shame. Embarrassment. He would wonder to himself at times if he should have shared certain things, and worried of your opinion

It made him pull back for a while, and was relieved you remained as patient as you’d always been. You made sure he was fine and he’d kindly dismissed you, to which you respectfully backed off and simply told him you were here if he needed

But… then when he was given the space he asked for, he became somewhat angry with himself. Now he just missed you, but felt so under pressure to be in your presence. It was frustrating.

You knew whatever problem he was facing had to be because of you, since he had told you just a few days ago that he preferred a little distance for now— but here he sat across the room from you, scrolling through lists of weaponry concepts to decide on what to work on next, inquiring your opinion of colors, of all things.

There came a day that Ramattra had a run in with a particularly violent human gang, of whom he’d shown little mercy for after they dealt the first strike— he should have swung the moment one of the strangers drawled about wearing his face as a trophy, “-after I reduce ya to nuts-n-bolts,” they’d said. A pitiful drop of confidence quickly lost into the newly reddened asphalt of the nearest alley

You caught him marching down a corridor, and it finally hit Ramattra like a truck when you’d approached him to make sure he was fine

He didn’t bleed red, you knew this. And something in him clicked when you immediately assumed him the victim, placing careful hands on his chest as you observed him for damage

Oh, he liked you. A lot. Had any other person of flesh approached him, he would have demanded solitude with a killing accusatory tone, a wordless threat of violence if his needs were not met.

But you had came to him, and he was more than relieved that you had. Just seeing you again, he realized why he hadn’t hit his attackers first.

“Are you attempting to domesticate me?” He had blurted, watching you curl your hand into the hem of your shirt and wipe the blood from his fingers. He takes in your baffled expression with a hidden affection- and yet again, feeling awkward for such a poor joke with little context. He fought himself on whether to explain, but decided better of it.

Understanding then why he felt so drawn to you, he felt somewhat justified in why he additionally felt like such a fool in your presence.

He hadn’t intended to feel this way about you, it couldn’t be helped. You hit many marks that he found objectively attractive.

He would spend the next few days observing you to thoroughly analyze his feelings toward you— to which you felt like a specimen being studied with how he kept tossing prolonged stares in your direction

He didn’t mean to appear like a creep, and he ended up feeling so much worse when you finally confronted his “quiet ogling”

“I— I was not,” he’d say defensively, and relaxed quickly when you laughed. “You are merely a fascinating subject to observe, is it so offensive that I watch?”

“Are you calling me pretty?”

“No.” He quickly bites, then immediately froze as he regretting saying it so harshly. He doubles back, “But, I do not mean—“ a pause, “You are fine as you are. But that is not what I was saying.”

Ogling. He was ashamed to find himself doing just that so soon after the amused accusation

The way you smirk before telling a joke, he’d mishear your jest when he was so focused on the way your mouth moved, and imagined running his thumb over your lips

When he’d find you closer to morning, he loved to catch you stretching your arms above your head. Your shirt would ride upward and reveal a bit of your navel while your upper half trembled into the stretch. He wanted to put his hands there, too.

He stole an opportunity to knead at your shoulder once when you complained about being sore from a prior activity, everting inside him lurching with humiliation when you settled comfortably into his lap.

An innocent gesture, sat between his legs while you accepted his kindness— though a deceptive offer, for he had just wanted a reason to have you this close.

He stared hard at your neck, gaze dropping to peer beneath your collar. It was dreadful. But he wouldn’t restrain himself, entirely glad he had a stationary face.

He’d pull at the cables of his mane when he was by himself, shaking his head and his fists at himself for this unrighteous behavior. Being away from you was worse, left alone with unrestrained thoughts of the things he could do to you

And oh, the things he wanted to do to you.

But you were a friend. A human. He was an omnic, and certainly not one built for… that kind of activity.

But then again, he was not made with life in mind, either. As far as he saw it, he could do whatever he wanted with the privilege of having agency

And that has resulted in relieving himself of these indecent thoughts when he shut himself into his quarters, blessed with the ability to create vivid images of what you would look like beneath him.

These solemn hours of the night should be reserved for meditation, and pondering his next move. But now he’s been reduced to touching himself with you in mind, pulling at delicate wires that were not meant to be tempered with.

Imagining you there. Evoking hypothetical risk by trusting you with his body.

But he hadn’t even made his feelings known to you yet. Hell, he couldn’t imagine a situation where he would without it complicating everything, or making you distant.

He knew he was the least likely candidate to end up in a cross-species relationship. So for now, he’d just relish in your friendship

And if ever you hint at wanting to take things a step further, you would find Ramattra quite eager to advance.

#Ramattra #overwatch #overwatch2 #ramattra x reader #reader insert #ramattra overwatch #headcanons #Ramattra headcanons #ramattra x listener #smut #fluff

[messrmoonyy]

im new to requesting stuff so srry if it's bad 😭😭 idk you have done this one before but can you please do a tess servopoulos fluff drabble / blurb where she comes back from patrol really tired and stressed. then you both spending the entire night cuddling and you giving her words of affirmations or whatever it's called 🧍🏽‍♀️

i hope this is good enough , have a good day / night <33

Tess Servopoulos x reader

Wc- 619

Navigation | Tess masterlist

It was late when you finally heard Tess return home, softly closing the front door downstairs and the soft thud of her feet on the stairs. She wasn’t being remotely loud. But it seemed so many years of training yourself to jump at the smallest sound still hadn’t worked its way out of your system. Tess had been called out on one of the late night patrols, filling in for one of the usual night guys spot after he’d come down with the flu.  

You’d tried your hardest to stay awake and wait for her, but clearly your eyes had given up on you and you’d dozed off at some point. You stirred as she walked into the bedroom, sighing softly when she slipped into bed behind you. She slid her arm over your waist, pulling you back against her with a sigh of her own. 

“ Tessa “ you whispered almost dreamily, happy to have her back safe and sound 

“ hey baby “ she said softly “ did I wake you? “ she asked, her breath warm against your neck. 

“ it’s okay I’m glad you did “ you shifted in her embrace, turning around so that you could look at her in the dark “ how was patrol? “

“ nothing out of the ordinary. Wanna sleep for a week though. Remind me never to agree to this shift ever again “ she mumbled, leaning her forehead to yours for a moment. 

“ let’s stay in bed all day tomorrow…

Today? What time is it? “ it made her laugh slightly and oh how you loved to make her laugh. 

“ perfect idea. I don’t want to move. At all “ 

“ we can stay here all day “ You reached out to softly touch her face, fingers ghosting over her skin. You traced the lines, the scars, the soft wrinkles settling into the corners of her eyes “ you’re so beautiful “ you couldn’t help but whisper, voice almost dreamy. 

It felt such a privilege to lay there with her. To be the one granted the honour of watching her age in a world where not many got to. To be able to lay there with lines settling into your own skin, to age beside her. To be able to trace those lines, to run your fingers through the greys that speckled the hair of her temples. 

She was truly a sight to behold. 

“ I don’t feel it. I feel old “ she mumbled, eyes falling closed under your soft touches seemingly soothed by them  “ I ache “

“ I think you’re beautiful “ you reassured her “ I always have I always will “ you leant forward to kiss her, the slow lingering kind where you felt like you were floating, hand tangling into her hair to pull her impossibly closer “ I love you “ you whispered against her lips after a few moments “ so much “ 

Tess smiled warmly, a smile that had been so rare a few years ago. But was now so wonderfully common. It still made your chest bloom with warmth every time you saw it. To see genuine her joy. 

“ I love you too “ she kissed you once more, and placed a soft kiss to your forehead before urging you to turn around again “ it’s late, get some more sleep “ you were too tired to protest and rolled over, letting Tess’ arms pull you back against her again. She sighed softly as she settled in, nuzzling her face against your neck in a way she so often did. 

Your eyes grew heavy again and you smiled once more at the blissful joy of being able to lay there with her, in a bed big enough for you both. With blankets that were warm and in a house instead of a crappy little apartment. 

Safe. Warm. And together. 

#I love Jackson Tess. and I love soft Tess #proofread once apologies #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tess servopoulos x reader #tlou #tlou Tess #tess x reader #tlou hbo #Anna torv #sapphic #Ty for such a cute fluffy request #Fluff #the last of us fanfiction

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 9

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Chapter Warnings: Alcohol Consumption | Language take a shot whenever you see the f word smh Word Count: 8.3k Author Notes: So...Im sorry 😬? But aye, what's a story without a beach chapter, am I right?? I can't believe how close we are to the finish line. I think we have 3 chapters left ??? give or take. wooow will I actually finish a story for the first time in my life?? (like a real one not just a lil scenario haha). Sorry for the late update, I was gonna post on yeols bday but thought this wasnt a great present lmfaooo As always, dont be shy with letting me know your thoughts on the chapter, a def will need to know how you all feel at the end of this one 😮‍💨. Thank you to everybody still rocking with the story, it means sooo much to me 💕 and give our boy chanyeol some loooove MWAH!!!

It doesn’t take Seulgi and you long to change and head down to the beach. Being able to see the guys from up in your room, you join them quickly.

They got their hands on a grill somehow, and you find Jongdae already cooking on it, beer in one hand.

“Already looking like a dad, Dae,” Seulgi announces in greeting, taking in his unbuttoned green Hawaiian shirt, oversized sunglasses, and fisherman’s hat. He grins brightly and rewards her with a fresh piece of juicy meat.   

Beside Jongdae and the grill sits a long table covered with food, drinks, and a bluetooth speaker currently playing chill R&B. A little further behind him is a blue canopy to block the blazing sun from your sensitive skin, chairs littered underneath it.

This area of the beach is privately owned, for hotel residents only. Despite how large the hotel is, only a few other families dot the shore, all far enough away that your little party is practically secluded.

You drop your bag onto a chair and dig into it, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. You rub it into any skin of yours exposed before walking out of the canopy, holding it up for everyone to see. “Who needs some?”

Sehun and Jongin come running towards you, both only wearing swim trunks. You suck your teeth, their backs are probably already screaming at them.

Jongin gets to you first. You turn him around and begin to apply the protective lotion onto his back, where it will be hard for him to reach.

“We missed you last night,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. For some reason, your throat constricts, dragging your voice down to a deep mumble. “I’m sorry for leaving. I just….”

“I understand,” he says, patting one of your hands. Throwing his head back, he tosses you a sweet grin. You return his smile before handing him the bottle so that he can cover the rest of himself.

With Jongin preoccupied, Sehun makes his way over, already trying to get a read on you. He understands the language of your body enough to fill in blanks you don’t even know are empty.

“Good afternoon,” you greet, keeping your voice neutral. 

“He’s in the water,” is his reply.

“Who?” Damn this man. He’s good.

He scoffs. “Please, you’ve been scanning the area non stop since you’ve arrived. Baekhyun had to drag him out as soon as he got here. He was getting pretty worked up about something. I’m assuming it was the fact you weren’t here.”

“Weird,” is your convincing response. You push his arm, leading him to turn around so that you can attempt to save him from skin cancer.

“Weird, indeed.” Despite not being able to see you, his curious gaze can still be felt. “Makes me wonder what happened after you left the reception.”

“Not something I really want to talk about.” You wince, knowing you’ve slipped up and said too much. The simple sentence bares a lot to unpack, and Sehun loves other people’s dirty laundry.

But, in Sehun fashion, he doesn’t push. It’s one thing you love about him. Instead, he faces you and grabs the sunscreen, silently lotioning the rest of his body. When he’s done he reaches over to you, pulling at the black kimono you had meticulously put on over your swimsuit, to return the favor.

“Sehun!”

He yanks the thin fabric and it falls off your shoulders. You both freeze. He only lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake down the expansion of your exposed skin littered in harsh dark bruises. His gaze lingers for an uncomfortably long time. You want to pull away, but find yourself paralyzed, a mouse caught in the stare of a hungry snake. 

“Stop staring.”

The voice is gruff. A wet hand pulls at your arm, ripping the kimono from Sehun’s frozen hand. You stumble backwards until you hit a chill wetness that makes you hiss as it soaks into your back. Sehun’s eyes are the only thing to move as they shift to the person protectively hovering behind you. His expression is cool, but you catch the way his eyes alight in amusement. Swallowing thickly, you work the courage to see who’s caught his attention….

Chanyeol stops glaring at Sehun long enough to spin you around so that you’re facing each other. With gentle fingers, he fixes your pullover, maneuvering it so that it’s covering your neck, hiding most of the damage. 

He clicks his tongue in dismay. “This won’t do.”

“I have a shirt,” you inform in a small voice. “It doesn’t have a collar though.”

“One second.” Chanyeol walks away, no longer blocking the radiant view of crashing teal waves, powdery sand, and miles of blue sky. White clouds speckle the troposphere, the negative image of your neck and chest. Off to your right, Sehun still stands, a glorious statue made of pale marble.

You can’t bring yourself to acknowledge his presence. 

Chanyeol returns. In his hands is the ugly Hawaiian shirt Jongdae was wearing.

You become aware of the rashguard covering his torso. The collar is high, covering the base of his neck where any hickeys can be hidden, although you can just barely see the start of one peeking out. You curse yourself for not thinking of buying one. 

“May I?” He gently asks. Is that not how he asked to strip you last night? The reminder takes your voice, as does the reserved look in his eyes. He’s testing the water, trying to see where you both stand at the moment. You nod, allowing him access to touch you, lost in his grim expression.

Gently, ever so gently, his fingers brush over your shoulders, sneaking under the thin garment. You battle a shiver as he lifts the back of his hands, knocking the fabric off with his knuckles. You roll back your shoulders, helping him make the cover cascade onto the sand below.

Chanyeol’s bright eyes wander over your flesh. He grunts in satisfaction at the sight of the marks he’s made, pride coloring his features. And you’re transfixed, gulping back saliva flooding your mouth like high tide. Your breathing grows erratic, fingers itching to touch him in return. Apparently that tension hasn’t fully gone away. Looks like you’ll be attracted to him for life.

You want to say something, want to voice an excuse to get your hands on him, but a sharp whistle cuts through the air before you can speak, breaking the spell Chanyeol has you falling under. You blink away your thirst, remembering where you are, of the audience you have.

“Looks like you got into some fun last night!” Jongdae, the culprit of the whistle, points out in a yell. 

You’re now hyper aware of all your friends. Baekhyun, who you’re just now noticing, sits in the shallow part of the water where the waves roughly push him, dressed identically to Chanyeol. He’s looking in your general direction, squinting against the sun to see what all the commotion is about. Seulgi stands beside Jongdae. She’s in the middle of applying sunscreen, one of her legs lifted like a flamingo. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to hear her ‘oh shit’, wobbling as she balances on that one leg. Sehun is still staring right next to you, but the whistle was able to jolt him back from stone. Then there is Jongin, who jogs back to where everyone is congregated to curiously see what is going on.

Being the only one moving, your head spins over to him, seeing how his mouth slacks and his eyes widen in shock.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, you snatch the shirt out of Chanyeol’s grip, rushing to put it on so that everyone will stop staring at you like you just told them you murdered someone.

“Mind your business,” you snap. You regret it instantly when Jongin’s face falls like a kicked puppy. It can’t be helped, you have a tendency to lash out when embarrassed.

“Dae! The meat!””

Gratefully, a hard gust of wind blows in, lifting the aluminum foil with the cooking meat off the grill, falling onto the sand.

That distracts everyone from you. You thank a higher power.

Jongdae stares forlornly at the meat, watching sand coat it like seasoning. 

“What are you doing!” Baekhyun yelps, rushing to his feet. “Pick it up!”

That pulls Jongdae out of whatever trance he was in and he lurches forward, grabbing the hot foil and tossing it onto the end of the table. He hisses and shakes his hands, sticking a reddening thumb into his mouth.

Baekhyun rushes over to the table for quality control and his shoulders slump at the damage.

“This batch is no good.”

“Way to go, Jongdae,” Chanyeol chides. He then peeks over to you, surreptitiously checking your reaction.

“Shut it!” Jongdae snaps back.

Seeing a good opportunity to escape, you go to make your way over to Seulgi. Chanyeol is not having that, and you only get one step in before he’s snatching your wrist, holding you in place in front of him.

“Don’t go,” he begs under his breath.

You refuse to look up at him, knowing that whatever expression he currently wears will kill what little resolve you have. You know you need to discuss what happened the night before, and why he woke up alone this morning, but you hate confrontation and don't want to have this conversation right at this moment. To be honest, you just want to relax for a bit. Is that so wrong?

You remain silent, not really sure what to say to get him off your back for the time being.

“Just talk to me,” he urges. “You were gone when I woke up, and….”

He falls silent, and you can’t resist the temptation any longer. You break and lift your chin, sucking in a breath at what greets you. It’s that same tortured expression from yesterday. Nerves, apprehension, and defeat swim in his opaque orbs, purple his lips. And you know you can no longer prolong with conversation. He’s hurting. You’re hurting him, and it’s not fair to keep tormenting him like this.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks dejectedly, intently searching you for the answer. 

You open your mouth to answer him. To tell him no, he did nothing wrong, but then Seulgi is calling your name and running up to you. She grabs the arm Chanyeol isn’t holding. “Let’s get in the water. It’s hot.”

She completely ignores Chanyeol as she heads for the shore, dragging you with her.

“I’m sorry,” is all you’re able to get out before you’re pulled completely from his gentle touch. He releases your wrist without a fight, letting you retreat glumly.

“I’m going to have to talk to him eventually,” you tell Seulgi, rolling your eyes. You hit the water and hiss from the shock of the freezing temperature.

“You two don’t get much talking done when you’re together,” she answers, breathless from the cold of the water.

Ignoring–and also maybe even embracing–the pain from the waves chilling your warm skin, you both run until you’re thigh deep and then dive right in, swimming deeper into the abyss. 

You float on your back and try to focus on the paradise you’re in, instead of the devastated look in Chanyeol’s eyes. To no avail.

There’s some crashing noises that pull you upright to see Baekhyun running in to join Seulgi and you.

When he’s close, he jumps onto Seulgi, pulling her under water. Not one to miss an opportunity, you hop onto his back. The three of you break the surface, sputtering for air.

You stay secured around Baekhyun as you all catch your breaths. 

“What the hell,” Seulgi coughs, splashing him in the face. He laughs, but chokes on the sea salt, and you squeal when you’re caught in her attack.

Letting go of Baekhyun, you swim back around so that Seulgi and you are turned towards the shore with him facing you both.

“Is he still sulking?” He asks.

You dare a glance over to where Chanyeol is, refusing to acknowledge how quickly you’re able to seek him out. He’s in the chair you had claimed, watching the water with a sullen pout as he rests his chin in his hand.

“Oh yeah,” Seulgi answers. “The clouds around him are turning gray, he’s in such a mood.”

“He wouldn’t be like that if you’d stop avoiding him, you know?”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you say. “We just spoke.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Yeah and I can tell you’re both on the same page. Nice talk.”

He throws you a sarcastic thumbs up, you stick your tongue out at him.

He grows solemn. “Please, say something to him. The poor man is beating himself up right now.”

You sink further into the water, dipping in until your mouth is submerged, and run a hand over the tiny waves bobbing you. 

Beside you, Seulgi sighs. “I may have ruined their talk.”

Baekhyun throws his head back and groans. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“How was I supposed to know?” She asks. “It looked like they were about to ditch us and fuck again. I’m just trying to help her not make another decision she’s going to instantly regret.”

“Whatever happens between them is their business, Seulgi,” Baekhyun says, sounding uncharacteristically reasonable. “You have to let them work through it their way.”

You wave your hand above your head like a needy sim. “I’m right here, you know?”

Seulgi pouts like a chastised child. “You’re right.”

Both Baekhyun and you spin your heads towards her in surprise.

“Did you just say I’m right?” Baekhyun asks. His shock quickly morphs into cockiness, if the grin splitting his face is any indicator.

She’s now the one to groan. “I will not be repeating myself.”

“I’ll cherish the moment for the rest of my life.” Baekhyun turns to you and his smile softens. “Talk to him soon. He’s getting annoying.”

“I will. I promise.” You assure. “Thank you, Hyunnie, for doing this. I know it isn’t easy for you either, being in the middle like this. I appreciate it.”

He shrugs. “You’re both my friends. I want to see you happy. I just hope you can work it out.”

Jongin and Jongdae come barrelling towards your group. As soon as you see your sweet friend, you can’t help but hold your arms out for him.

“Nini!” You cry. He laughs and falls into your embrace, tackling you back into the depths of the sea. When you both emerge, you apologize for yelling at him.

“You’re forgiven,” he says, never taking anything to heart. “But I was surprised. I didn’t expect to see all your bruises. It looks like you got beat up.”

You whine his name. “You’re making it worse.”

“Hey, they do say that weddings are the best place to pick up chicks,” Jongdae says. “Well, I guess dudes for you. Unless….”

He gives you a wicked smirk and you splash him.

“Anyway, good on you for getting some. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jongdae,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “Also, my bad on the shirt. I forgot I was wearing it before I got in here.”

He takes notice of his button down floating around you and gasps dramatically. “You better wash it before you give it back. It was expensive.”

You look at him skeptically. “This tourist shirt?”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to have those two cook the meat?” Baekhyun asks, putting your incoming argument with Jongdae to a halt. All five of you turn to the last people still on dry land. The tall boys stand over the grill, Chanyeol with the tongs in his hand. His eyebrows are scrunched as he listens to Sehun adamantly speaking, nodding and answering occasionally. it’s a deep conversation you don’t want any part of.

Jongdae shrugs. “I need a break. It’s hot.”

You all play in the water for some time. Once hunger becomes too great to ignore, you swim back to the beach. Immediately, you crack open a cold beer, nearly moaning when it hits your belly. Now this is what you need. You’ve been sober far too long.

Jongdae wasn’t lying about the heat. Even under the canopy, you can’t escape the sun’s harsh rays. You succumb to the weather and peel off Jongdae’s now dry shirt, not caring anymore if the other’s see your marks, it’s already old news.

Slowly, you all make your way to the table. it’s out in the open and everyone is a bit hesitant to sit out there, but that’s where the food resides. Both Baekhyun and Chanyeol take off their shirts, overwhelmed by the temperature.

“Holy shit, Yeol,” you hear Jongdae say. “What happened to you?”

Everyone glances over to the tall man and your heart sinks at the sight of his exposed back. It’s hard to miss the rows of scratches you carved down his shoulder blades, red and angry.

At the mention of his name, Chanyeol turns around, revealing his neck, shoulders, and chest that look exactly like yours. Actually, his marks are deeper, darker. You were really letting him have it. In your defense, he did encourage you to do your worst, so it is hard for you to find any sympathy to send to the giant.

A loaded silence fills the area as he locks eyes with you. You sigh. That’s enough of an answer for everyone.

Giving up, you chug your beer empty as the extra heat of everyone’s attention bounces back and forth between you both, connecting the purple and blue dots.

“No way….” Jongin’s fingers trace the trail of his eyes. “Did you two…?”

You close your eyes in dismay. You’re going to hear it now.

“Wait a damn minute!” Jongdae’s loud ass voice echoes over the speaker. “You mean to tell me Chanyeol was the one who left those hickeys on you!?”

He gives you an impressed grin. “You naughty girl.”

You simply sink lower into your chair.

“Are you guys together now?” Jongin asks, bouncing on his toes in giddy excitement.

“I mean….” Chanyeol searches you out in hopes you’ll answer that question for him as well.

The attention has you awkwardly laughing, readjusting yourself so that you’re sitting properly again. 

“Please, you guys,” you say, laughter coating every consonant. “It’s nothing.”

Chanyeol’s head tilts at that, eyes fluttering in confusion. “What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve made matters much worse. Chanyeol’s getting worked up now, and the last thing you want is to fight in front of everybody.

“I just mean it’s not a big deal.”

If your first sentence was you putting your foot in your mouth, this one is the whole damn leg.

“Not a big deal?” He repeats skeptically. He turns so that he’s properly looking at you, making sure he’s understanding correctly. “You think us having sex is ‘not a big deal’?”

“Okay,” Jongdae drawls. “Not together then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you begin to explain, really wishing this conversation wasn’t happening like this. “It was a big deal to me, okay? But they shouldn’t expect more because of it.”

“Like us getting back together?” He continues to question in a monotonous tone. “You’re saying that they shouldn’t get their hopes up about us getting back together just because we had sex.”

“Exactly!” You clap, glad he understands.

“So that wasn’t us getting back together?”

His disappointment is hard to disguise, and it makes you feel bad. Again you’re reminded that if you’d just talked before this wouldn’t be happening. You sigh and prepare yourself to explain where you’re coming from.

“Chanyeol–”

“Meat’s getting cold,” Sehun interrupts, ending the real conversation before it can start. You’re grateful for it, still not mentally prepared to break Chanyeol’s heart any further, although it seems you may be past that point. Chanyeol’s jaw is tense, honestly everything about him is tense as he nods his head like he finally understands something before stomping over to the table, sitting at the end furthest from the canopy. He grabs a beer, cracking it open and guzzling it down rather aggressively. 

Everyone else reluctantly takes Chanyeol’s lead. When Baekhyun passes you, he grimaces, politely letting you know that you messed up. Sehun is the last to walk past. He stops and reaches a hand out for you to grab. You sigh before taking it, allowing him to pull you up.

“The last thing I want right now is a lecture,” you tell him.

“I’m just checking on you,” he assures. “You good?”

You stare at him. ‘Do I look like I’m good’ written all over your face and he grins, gaining the reaction he wanted. It’s gone as quick as it comes, an air of seriousness taking over.

“I thought we talked about this.” He starts. 

You point a finger at him. “Lecture.”

He purses his lips and lets his attention wander to the table. Everyone is trying their best to lighten the mood. You look also and are surprised to see Seulgi attempt to make small talk with Chanyeol, although he doesn’t appear that interested in the conversation.

“Okay, no lecture, but let me say one thing.” You groan. “Don’t leave this island with unfinished business. That’s only going to hurt you both more.”

You’re still taking in the table as he speaks, and Chanyeol must feel it because he’s looking back at you. He holds your stare for a few seconds, then catches himself and breaks the contact. It’s selfish, but you’re comforted by the familiar longing still lingering there.

You nod at Sehun’s words, turning back to him. “Yeah. Got it.”

He doesn’t believe you and his expression says as much.

“Hey! Hurry up and grab a plate!” Jongin orders you both. 

Sehun pats your arm and heads over to the table, you follow a few steps behind. The food is delicious and the alcohol starts flowing. Soon the sun starts its slow descent, and with full bellies, you all relax more. At this moment, you can’t help but to miss Junmyeon. He’s always the one taking pictures, annoying everyone by forcing you all to pose for what feels like hundreds of photos. Sehun, his successor, makes sure to take as many candids and selfies as he can. You find it easy to smile whenever the camera is focused on you, even when Chanyeol is also in the frame.

Speaking of Chanyeol, the beer, good food, and friendship seems to be working in lifting his spirits. His loud voice carries throughout the beach, and you catch his boisterous laugh from time to time. You’re relieved to know that you haven’t completely ruined this trip for him. 

By this point, the sky is a lovely pink and orange, and you’re a bit tipsy. You close your eyes and sway to the beat of whatever song is playing, snapping along. Someone holds your hand, causing your eyes to spring open to see Jongin gently urging you out of your seat. You allow him to drag you into a clear patch of sand near the waves. You start dancing with him, connected hands swinging between you both as you reluctantly laugh. Jongin is your designated dance partner. He’s one of the better dancers of your group, and you’re shy. He got into the habit of getting you out onto the dancefloor to loosen you up in college. Now is no different. You both roll your bodies and sway your hips to the beat, encouraging each other. The longer you dance, the closer you get, until your forehead rests on his collarbone, arms wrap around each other’s waists, and Jongin’s cheek presses atop your head.

“Are you okay?” He softly asks.

His question causes your vision to blur. You stare unseeingly into the now gray sea, waves crashing urgently and tighten your hold around his torso.

“I don’t think so,” you confess. 

“I don’t understand,” he says, sounding both confused and frustrated. “You both love each other, right? Why fight?”

“It’s not that simple, Nini. I wish it was, but….” You shake your head, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Is it because of her?” He presses.

You close your eyes at the reminder of Yerim, another person your actions will hurt, and she’s yet to find out of your betrayal.

“Partially,” you admit.

Jongin rubs your back. “It'll work out. As long as you know what you want.”

You wipe your face and pull back to smile up at him, clipping his chin affectionately.

“Now that we’ve had that talk,” you say. “Let’s dance! We’re on vacation! I need to feel like it!”

He chuckles and spins you around so that your back is pressed against his torso.

“Turn the music up!” He orders. Whoever is in charge of the tunes obliges and you’re pleased when a song you can grind to comes on. You throw your arms up into the air and instantly lose yourself to the music, dancing back on Jongin who matches your moves easily.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings, you fail to notice someone joining your little party, but they make themselves known by gripping your arms, ripping you out of Jongin’s hold.

“What the–”

For the second time today, Chanyeol has pulled you away from someone. His hands are wrapped so tightly around your forearms, you wince from the pain. He doesn’t catch your discomfort, too busy giving Jongin the fiercest stare you’ve ever seen.

“Get the fuck off of her!” He snarls, dragging you even closer to him so that your face is pressed against his naked heaving chest.

You lean back and attempt to stare him down, but all you see is his sharp jaw.

“We’re just dancing,” you explain defensively.

That makes him look down at you, and you nearly gulp from the fury reflecting in his black orbs.

“That’s not how you ‘just dance’ with someone!”

That’s when you notice the way his words slightly blend together, notice how unsteady he is on his feet.

“You’re drunk,” you point out disappointedly. Remembering how good that did you both the last time he was under the influence.

He chuckles darkly at that. “So are you.”

Ugh, you aren’t anywhere near as faded as he currently is. You attempt to free yourself from him, but he’s holding onto you too tightly to break. There is no escape.

“Chanyeol, Bro, I swear that’s all we were doing,” Jongin calmly reassures.

“Don’t call me ‘bro’,” Chanyeol hisses. “You’ve always been like this, Jongin. You were always touching her! Don’t think I never noticed.”

“She’s my friend,” he says slowly, carefully, as if he’s speaking to a child.

“And she was my fiance!” Chanyeol all but roars. “But that never stopped you!”

You glance around. His outburst draws everyone’s attention and they watch the three of you curiously. Baekhyun and Sehun start to get up from their seats, probably intending to de-escalate the situation, but you don’t want to get anybody else involved. This is between Chanyeol and you. What is happening now is the consequence of you stalling the ‘what are we’ conversation you should’ve had the night before.

“Leave him alone, Yeol,” you mutter. “He’s not the one you’re mad at. It’s me.”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, too focused on the man behind you. “Why won’t he answer me then? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I promise I–”

Before Jongin can finish defending himself, you cut him off by putting your hands on Chanyeol’s chest, throwing your weight to shove him. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have budged, but his inebriation works in your favor, making him stumble a few steps. Unfortunately, he takes you with him, and you fall forward. He lets go of your arms to catch you by the waist, steadying you both.

“You okay?” He asks with worry.

“Yeah,” you huff. You pat his shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

There’s a boardwalk a few meters away that looks deserted, that is probably the best place to have this discussion. Not waiting for an answer, you easily break his hold and start walking towards it. Chanyeol says something to Jongin you can’t catch over the sound of the sea, but it sounds smug enough that you sigh deeply in dismay. You’ll apologize to Jongin tomorrow, you promise to yourself.

When you pass the table, you lock eyes with both Baekhyun and Sehun.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, not even sure if you believe it. It’s enough for them, they stand down and nod, trusting you.

The journey is silent. The sun has disappeared completely by the time you’re on the worn wood, enveloping you in an almost foreboding darkness. The crashing of waves are intense beneath you, doing nothing to soothe your nerves. When you reach the end of the walk, you turn around to the man you know was following you the whole time.

He’s on you before you can even speak. His mouth moves roughly against yours, urgent and desperate. His frustration is felt, as is his still present affection. You fall easily into his kiss, giving into him as naturally as you always have. Your hands curl around his neck, pulling him closer. He cups your face, the palms of his hands squishing your cheeks, puckering your lips more for him to devour. He walks you backwards, until your bare back hits the splintered wood of the banister. it digs into your skin, making you whimper, but it’s not enough pain to distract you from the punishing pressure of Chanyeol’s lips.

The groan he lets out in response is tortured, long fingers desperately begin pulling at the band of your swimsuit bottoms, eager to feel all of you again. 

In sync, your mouths fall open, tongues colliding and lewdly twirling together. God. Fuck. You want him. You want him so bad it’s driving you crazy. You’re going to fuck him again. You’re going to fuck him right here on this damn boardwalk, space be damned–

But, that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

“Stop,” you gasp between kisses.

He hums before tilting his head to kiss you even deeper. Those wandering hands of his slide down to squeeze your ass. You shutter and press yourself more against him, slipping your arms fully around his neck to drag him lower so that he’s curved over you. A sheen of sweat the only thing between your boiling bodies.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to fall back completely into the make out session. Disappointment floods you. Seulgi is right, the two of you can’t be alone for even a second without falling into this toxic habit.

Now annoyed with how weak you are, you finally muster the strength to shove Chanyeol back, officially breaking the kiss.

With much needed space between you, you feel the fog of lust begin to clear and can think better. Chanyeol doesn’t say anything or make a move to resume what you interrupted. No. He just stands there, watching you with an expression you find hard to read as you both attempt to catch your heaving breaths. 

“What?” He finally asks, voice hoarse and deeper than hell. “You don’t want me anymore, Mel?”

There’s no sorrow, none of the longing or anger he’s shown throughout the day, which is surprising. It’s almost as if he knew this was how the night was going to go. Like he knew you were going to push him away.

“That….” You swallow thickly. “That’s not it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks, taking a step towards you. You try to counter it, but that leads to more wood stabbing you. You’re sure some break the skin. He takes another step and now he’s directly in front of you, a mere breath away. He lowers his head to be more level with yours, giving you a close up view of his wound up fury.

“The problem,” you nearly stutter, overwhelmed by the hostility now coming off of him in waves. He’s never directed his anger towards you–the situation maybe, but never you–it’s intimidating and scary. You lick your dry lips, trying to find your voice, and he watches detachedly. “My problem is the opposite, Chanyeol. I still very much do.”

“That doesn’t seem like a problem to me.”

“Look at us!” You say. “We can’t be alone for five seconds without being all over each other! Last night was not supposed to happen the way it did! We weren’t supposed to sleep together!”

“But we did,” he snarls through clenched teeth. “And that means something, whether you want it to or not!”

“All that it means to me is we need space. This is too much for me, Yeol. We need time apart to figure out what the hell we actually want.”

“What is too much for you?” He asks, sounding exasperated. “The way I feel about you? The way you still feel about me? What is there to figure out? We still want each other, nothing else matters!”

“We still want each other physically!” You clarify. “I can agree with that, but the longer we’re together, the more I think that’s all we want!” 

“Of course not!” He finally yells. You flinch from the volume and that makes him catch himself. He huffs out a breath before repeating in a much gentler tone, “of course not.”  

He grabs one of your hands, thumb caressing your knuckles. “You are way more than that. You always have been. This is more than physical to me.”

Everything inside of you is screaming to believe him, and he himself is asking for that. For you to have faith in this, and to give it a chance. 

“Then why didn’t you say it back?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the forming tears in your eyes and the slight wobble of your lips in confusion. He searches for the context to your question. It takes a minute, but then his eyes widen in realization and his mouth falls open, a slight ‘oh’ leaving before he’s snapping it back shut. The look he gives you after that is something akin to pity.

And there is your answer. You pull your hand out of his grasp, using it to wipe away the tears that slipped past your waterline. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He scrambles in alarm from your withdrawal. “Can you please stop saying shit like that?”

“Why?” You snap. Your irritation grows with every second he doesn’t give you the answer you desire. “It doesn’t. I didn’t mean it anyways. It just slipped out, so…yeah.”

You fidget nervously and try to make out the waves crashing against the wood underneath you. You’re so focused on that, you miss the way Chanyeol recoils in shock. You also miss the reigniting flames of his dimming anger.

“So when you told me you loved me, you didn’t mean it. Yet, you’re mad at me for not saying it?”

Him saying it out loud makes you cringe in embarrassment. As if he hasn’t done enough, you sense mockery in his tone. When you meet his eye again, the anger is still there, but it’s mostly frustration you notice.

“I’m not mad that you didn’t say it,” you deny.

“Yes you are!” He lets out a humorless laugh. Yeah, he’s definitely frustrated. “Is that what all this is about? Why you left this morning? Look, I’m sorry! It wasn’t because I didn’t feel the same, I was just…preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied with what?” You ask in disbelief.

He gives you a steady look, eyebrows raised in a way to say, ‘you know what’. It takes a minute for you to decipher what he’s alluding to, but then you remember what happened right after your little confession and groan his name, appalled.

“See?” He’s grinning like a madman now, pulling at your arms in an attempt to catch your attention. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear. And once I did, I couldn’t control myself anymore. You telling me you love me made me cum.”

“Be serious right now,” you say, frowning in disgust.

“Oh, I’m very serious right now,” he says, that gleefully large grin still on his face.

You throw him a skeptical look. “You’re smiling and talking about cum. You think this is a joke.”

That makes his smile slowly disappear. He says your name. “I don’t think this is funny. I’m telling you the truth. You want me to prove it to you? Hm? I’ll say it right now. I lo–”

“I don’t want to hear it now!” You interrupt in a shout. “If you had said it then, things might’ve been different, but you didn’t. I don’t care why you didn’t either. That was all the confirmation I needed. We have no idea what we want from this.”

“Here we go again,” he groans, walking a bit away from you.

You jut your jaw at that. “I’m going to repeat myself until you get it through that thick skull. Whatever happened, happened. It’s done. We’re done.”

Chanyeol’s frustration is back with a vengeance. His fingers run through his dark hair, yanking at the strands as he starts pacing in front of you. “How can you say that when you had your tongue down my throat minutes ago? You let me cum inside you! You told me you loved me! And that’s it? There’s mixed signals and then there’s whatever the fuck you’re doing right now.”

“There you go talking about cum again,” you mutter to yourself. Louder, “I’m being realistic! It’s only been three days. Three! And, what? We’re just supposed to pick up right where we left off? Act like the past few years never happened? That’s not how this works, and I doubt that’s healthy. We need more time.”

“I already told you that I’ll always love you, and I meant that. I know you’re scared, Mel. Hell, I’m scared too. You’re right, things are moving fast, but that’s because we still care for each other. I know you still love me. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t. This wouldn’t be us pretending we never broke up. This can be us realizing that we’re better together. That we’re even stronger now that we’ve had time to figure out who we are apart. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It was,” you’re quick to emphasize the past tense. “But I’ve changed a lot since the last time you saw me, Yeol, so stop acting like you know me.”

Something you say catches his attention, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You haven’t changed much.” He says your name. “I still know you, probably better than anybody else here. Just like you still know me.” 

He’s stilled from pacing, and it’s a bit ominous after watching him frantically walk for the past couple minutes. He runs a hand over his face tiredly and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, that’s really what this is about.”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I was hoping it wasn’t, but what you just said…. It all makes sense now.” He’s muttering under his breath, talking to himself.

“What are you going on about?” You ask.

“This morning, when I woke up and you weren’t there, I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, that you would do something like that, but I knew what happened the moment I realized you had left me.”

Your body begins to shake, and it isn’t from the cold. Foreboding chills your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, sharpening once he locks eyes with you, the accusations hard to miss.

“You still hate me.”

His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, trembling–as are his shoulders, his voice. He closes his eyes, taking deep calming breaths you doubt help him much. 

“And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me. That you changed since the ‘last time I saw you’. Was that your plan all along? To seduce me? Make me think you still gave a shit so that I’d let you fuck me and then leave? Was last night revenge sex?”

“No,” you gasp, genuinely shocked by his conclusion. “I already told you, it was a lapse of judgment–”

“I’m not playing this fucking game with you!” He shouts. His voice breaks, just like his heart currently does. “You don’t get to hurt me again. You can’t play with my feelings everytime I allow myself to be open with you. Maybe you’re right, Mel. Maybe I don’t know you anymore, because I never thought you could do something this fucking cruel.”

“Me? Cruel?” Your anger flares up. “What the fuck about you? You come here, bring some other girl you care nothing for, and then pretend like we never knew each other! Then proceeded to ignore her the whole time to flirt with me any chance you got!”

“We’re not talking about this trip!” Chanyeol dismisses. “I should have never brought her, I know that now, but that’s not what this is about. This is about the time before that, when you gave me back the engagement ring!”

Sehun mentioned the night before the wedding that you have a baseless grudge against Chanyeol, one that twisted the love you have for him, crossing that thin line over to hate. He was positive you made something up, a ‘lie’ he called it, to keep Chanyeol at arm’s length from your heart in order to protect it. The truth is that Sehun grew cocky. He believed so deeply that you couldn’t keep anything from him, that it was impossible to with the way he can so easily read you, that he never suspected when you did. It was only one thing. One thing you decided to keep to yourself, refusing to confide in even Sehun. The reason? To protect the man in front of you, the same way he protected you.

The last thing you want is to bring it up, but technically, Chanyeol is doing it first.

“Gave it back?” You’re in total disbelief. “You took it back the morning after you slept with me and then completely ghosted like I was some one night stand!”

“That’s what you wanted!” 

“When?” You ask, baffled. “When I invited you over? Or was it in the middle of us having sex?”

He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “Okay, but why did you invite me over?”

“Because I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his own anger from that day getting the best of him. “Because you wanted to give me the ring back!”

His voice has risen, and it silences you completely. 

“Fuck!” He’s saying your name again, but there isn’t an ounce of affection. “You wanted to return the ring. It was the one thing–the only thing that gave me hope. I told you to keep it, because I knew as long as you still had it, there was still a future for us. But then you called me. It hadn’t even been a year since our separation–because that’s what we were, separated not broken up–and the first time I hear from you it’s to tell me you want to give me back your fucking ring!”

Your head is spinning, attempting to comprehend everything he just admitted, filling in blanks you have been trying to figure out for years now. You hate to admit it, but some things are starting to make sense. 

“So, which was it then?” You question rather calmly. “You were still hurt from when I broke things off, so when I reached out you saw your chance to return the favor? Or was it because you thought that’s why I asked you to come over, so you got upset, slept with me, and left as a big fuck you?”

“Neither,” he reveals, evident disgust from your thought process. “Sleeping with you that night just happened. I didn’t do it with the intention to hurt you.”

“Sounds familiar,” you point out. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It feels like you’re going nowhere. Like you’re speaking in circles. “But okay, fine, say I believe that you didn’t do it to hurt me. Why did you leave?”

“Because I didn’t want what happened that night to become our normal,” he admits. “You knew how I felt about you, and I didn’t want you to take advantage of that–of me. Come on, Mel, you’ve always known the power you have over me. If you had told me that night that all you wanted from me was sex, I’d given that to you. Hell, if you told me right now that’s all you want, I’d give it to you. I’d give you anything. You’re my Melody.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “But I knew that if I reduced myself to that just to keep you, it would destroy me. I didn’t want to lose myself like that. And I don’t ever want to hate you. That’s why I ultimately left. Took the ring–like you told me to–and ran before you could change my mind. That was me setting a boundary for myself. I had to let you go before I allowed you to use and break me.”

Your heart sinks at his explanation. “Do you really think I’d treat you like that?”

“Do you really think I’d make love to you and not mean it?” He counters.

Again, you’re back at square one. Blinking at one another, trying to figure out where you stand in each other’s hearts. With the newfound knowledge of Chanyeol’s thoughts on that infamous day, you look internally. To be honest, his words don’t sway you much. The hurt from that day is still painful. You vividly remember the way your heart shattered when he was nowhere to be found. To add salt to the wound, he had blocked you on everything, so that you had no way to contact him afterwards. Yes, you really did believe he was capable of doing that.

“No matter what your intention was that day,” you start. “The result is still the same.”

Once Chanyeol hears this, you watch him build up a wall, closing you off from him for the first time. Until right now, you believed he wasn’t capable of doing that to you. That it couldn’t be helped or that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down in your presence. But watching all the vulnerability, all the honesty, all the affection he had for you vanish before your eyes, you realize you have been giving yourself too much credit.

“I guess that makes us even now, right?” He asks bitterly. 

You turn away, partially out of guilt, but also because you can’t stomach the haunted shadow dulling him. He’s right, in a sick way. You both ran away, hurting the other despite the reasoning behind it.

“So, that’s it then?” He asks when you fail to say anything.

“Chanyeol….” You turn back to him and instantly are bombarded with regret. You can so easily fix this. If you really want to, you can tell him that you forgive him for that night, that you truly never meant to hurt him and that the night before meant everything to you. You can walk off this boardwalk hand in hand, laughing with giddiness from falling back in love with your soulmate. Rejoining your friends who would be nothing but ecstatic and supportive of you working through your issues and returning to one another. You can do that. It will only take one simple sentence. 

But you don’t forgive him, and you haven’t really resolved anything. Your new relationship would be built on the foundation of ignorance, avoidance, and lust. You didn’t want that, not if it is the cost of having him back at this moment. You both have some healing to do before jumping into this again, and this conversation proved that. You aren’t ready.

“I–yeah. I think it would be for the best if we end things here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in defeat. He sniffs and scratches the back of his head. “You’re probably right. There’s not much else I can say to make you stay.”

He takes you in one more time. In his reluctance, it’s as if he’s giving you a chance to change your answer, but you both know you won’t. Guess he does still know you well. He clears his throat and without saying goodbye, walks away. 

He’s about to clear the walk when you’re yelling at him to wait.

He does. He faces you and watches with wide eyes as you run hastily over to him. You stop at a safe distance, close enough to see him under the dim moonlight, but far enough away that you can’t feel the distracting heat of his body. 

He observes you warily, probably wondering how you’re going to break his heart this time. It’s that bit of doubt that made you run. There’s one last thing he needs to know, the one thing he needs to take away from this conversation, if nothing else.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s the last thing he expected, and his reaction reflects that. His eyes grow glossy and he does his best to blink the unshed tears back, while also fighting the frown weighing the corners of his lips, causing them to tremble. Wordlessly, he reaches out to you, cupping the back of your head, and you let him. You allow him to touch you, to bring you close to him, relishing in his heat against the chilling bite of the ocean’s breeze. He pulls you in and presses a tender lingering kiss onto your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your skin.

And then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

And you watch, as his fire dims and he blends with the gray of your surroundings before disappearing out of sight.

You pray to god that’s not a metaphor.

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[pookielious]

Hold Me Closer

eugene roe x babe heffron

☆

It had been only a few hours since gene had patched heffron up, they where still at the line, planning to move forward into a small town  in attempts to gain more territory. Bastogne was in ruins, the bodies left in the ruins of the town where far to dangerous to get out right now, but Bastogne was still used as a aid station it was the best they could do till another supply drop would come , hopefully in the near future. 

It had been a relatively quiet day at least for the front, some firing here and there but nothing easy company hadn't seen before

"So where'd you get this auh?" Heffron spoke up finally , looking  at the stripped blue fabric of his make shift bandage "Kraut drop it or sumn'thin?",

"No" gene answered tiredly "found it in bastogne— when we took Gordon I think" he said,  his eyes on his hands, beat up and stained with dried blood 

"I heard you tellin'  winters about bastogne, is it really that bad there?" Heffron question,  shifting a bit to but his hands in his pockets

"Its in ruins ," he answered honestly " they bombed the whole thing" he stared off at his hands , picking at the blood under his finger nails as he reimagined the scene of it all, fires and the cracking sound of the wood houses giving "nothin' left but they're still taking wounded men there"

"Gave us a merry Christmas " babe retorted sarcastically, Renée is all that Eugene thought about , for chrismas they'd taken her away, his chrismas gift was all that was left of her. A scarf. "Right" Eugene said in reply so much for a christmas 

" 'ey Gene?"

"Hm?" He hummed glancing red at the redhead

"Merry christmas " babe smiled softly

" merry chrismas heffron" 

Babe laughed a little laying back in the fox hole "are you ever gonna stop with the 'heffron' shit?" He questioned

"Probably not" he said truthfully, he didn't fancy calling people by their nick names, it just made things alot easier at least  in his mind. just as babe opened his mouth to talk the two heard a shot then strangely enough a splash the two looked at eachother confusedlt; gene straightened up  and babe grabbed his gun, crouching and looking over at the line, nothing ?

"Medic !" A familiar voice called out

The two waited a second 

"Doc!" The same voice called out

"Was that a sniper?" Babe said confusedly looking at Eugene who stood up from his crouching position  "I don't know"

"Go! Com'on" heffron said quickly peeking over the foxhole at the line , he figured it was just a sniper or somthing  he saw no other shots or any sort of flashing and Gene complied getting out of the hole and running to where the same voice called him

A he was close to the line he knew that, there was a short drop down a small hill he hadn't seen and he practically rolled down it

"Doc !? You okay?!" A voice yelled out, different than the one before , joe toye he figured out  "im fine!" Gene continued and stood up , making his way towards toye again as he saw another figure and half of another one , he would've paused if it wasn't for the adrenaline rushing through his body from the fall and the sniper "What's going on—" the ground shook and the sky flashed "wouldya get me out!" Luz , who was the half body gene had seen yelled "yer gonna get me shot!"  The man shivered, flopping like a fish to try and wiggle himself out if the water, it was a almost humorous to watch

due to the shock to his muscles and the weight of his gear it was a useless effort Gene looked confusedly, he was half submerged in a now ,leibgott,  who had been the 3rd figure gene had saw was trying to left him out  

The 3 managed to get him out without getting  shot, he was drenched he had been fully submerged for only a few seconds but he'd been in the water for a good minute, enough time partnered with the cold it was good enough to get him a bad case of hypothermia "toye go get a jeep! And some blankets, towels, anything we need to get him dry !" Toye nodded and ran off ahead of the two,  leibgott and gene carried Luz who had started shivering violently

Once they got back up to the company they set Luz down and started getting all of his gear and top layers of clothes off "ain't that gonna make him more cold?!" Liebgott questioned rather loudly "he's gon' freeze to death if we dont!" 

Toye came back running with a blanket , nearly tripping over someone's fox hole and a few  sticks and the ground that where to be used as camouflage  for the foxholes "dry him off quickly!" Gene ordered and the 3 started to rub him off rather aggressively with the cover,  gene knew they couldn't have a fire for them nor would he be able to start of quick enough with wet hands, he stood up, ripping the medic arm band off of his jacket that was held on with some strategic sewing and mostly safety pins and stuffed the syrettes and morphine into his back before also taking that off, he then unzipped his jacket and knelt back down with the help of leibgott he got it onto Luz "awh– d-oc youre-" where the only words Luz could get out

The jeep pulled up with in seeing distance and the 3 got up , picking Luz back up again "don't you worry about me" gene insisted, gene let go of Luz and grabbed his sopping wet equipment, placing them in the passenger seat  foot rests of the jeep "toye, go with him make sure they get him  inside of somewhere,  broken building or anything that'll get him protected from the wind, ya here?" Toye nodded and hopped into the passenger seat at as jeep sped away.

At first the feeling of cold hadn't him, he'd noticed the strange looks he'd gotten from most of 2nd battalion he'd saw as he ran around , bandaging wounds, mostly accidental ones from being scared by the sudden shoots but after the adrenaline had finally wore off it came at him hard, gene really wasn't made t  handle the cold all that much, Louisiana was a much more hotter climent then western Europe . he made is rounds, checking up on everyone else incase he'd missed anything or to hear if they needed anything as usual , buck had taken a notice as gene stopped at his foxhole 

"Where your jacket?" Buck started, looking up at him as he ate a makeshift snowcone with the powered lemonade that was common amongst the soliders 

"With George Luz sir" gene managed, crouched next to the foxhole, holding himself to keep some warmth

"Luz?" buck questioned,  the confusion plastered is normally plain expression, dancing around in his ice blue eyes "Why does Luz have it?"

"Needed it more then me, " gene continued "Germans lured toye 'n him  with some supplies — they ain't notice it was over some frozin' over lake" he shifted slightly, he knew he needed to stay moving in order to lessen the feeling of cold "liebgott tried to get them outta there but snipe cracked the ice, Luz fell right in" 

Buck sighed softly "right" the blonde nodded, thinking for a moment  " check with Nixon and winters they're probably hanging about , see if they can do anything for you"

Gene simply nodded and stood up, continuing his arounds

He hasn't managed to spot nixon or winters, they always went around in a pair so he doubted he'd find just one of them sitting around, he got back to his foxhole and jumped in, curling up in it as he shivered helplessly. the cold stung his arms  and there was nothing he could do about it 

"Woah there" he heard the familiar Philadelphian accent of Edward "correct me if I'm wrong doc but I 'on think stripping is gonna keep you all that warm" 

"Real Perceptive heffron" he spoke through his shivering

"What happened?" Heffron hopped into the hole, putting his gun down along with his helmet

"Luz fell into a lake, gave it to him" gene summarized to save from explaining for the 3rd time that day

"Here," heffron took off his scarf and crawled on his knees closer to the medic, wrapping the scarf around his neck and part of his face "my grandma used to wrap me up like his" heffron tucked the end of the scarf back into itself so it wouldn't come loose and unwrapped 

"Never needed to be wrapped like this before" 

"Your from the south right?" 

Gene nodded "Louisiana, bayou chou" 

"Ever fought a croc? Yall got those down there yeah?"

"Not dumb enough to so no— I used to see'em alot when I was younger, my grandfather wrestled one right infront of me once" 

"I saw one in the zoo once" there wasn't any crazy wild animals in Philadelphia, it was a major city after all, nothing crazy like the costal states like Louisiana "had–" he laughed a little " had a pigeon trynna steal my cheese steak one time, never fought somthing harder in my life" 

Gene smiled a bit at the sheer image Of Edward trying to fight a pigeon off 

Heffron stood up half way peering over edge of the foxhole "aye' garnere?"

"Aeh?" The man hummed, peaking up from his hole

"Ya Got a blanket? Docs cold" 

There was A brief pause as Bill presumably looked around "yeah" Bill said , balling up the blanket and throwing it over to heffron"thanks" the other said as he caught the blanket

He looked down at gene, he looked pitiful ,his nose and cheeks where a rosy pink color while the rest of him had palen more then usual, his teeth chattering so hard he could hear it, heffron knelt back down again and wrapped him in the blanket "how about we get you into town doc?" Heffron offered, putting his hands on genes shoulders above the blankets and rubbing the to make some sort of heat with the friction 

"I have to stay on the line, case of anymore of those bombs " the southerner sighed softly  , holding the blanket shut with his hands 

"Right" heffron bit his lip , there wasn't many ways to stay warm in the front lines, especially without all of the promised snow gear that hadn't gotten to them yet,  much less without at least a jacket but just then a idea popped in his head

He gently took oneside of the blanket and sat next to gene, closing the blanket  with the hand and wrapping his other around the medic "whatdya' doing?" Gene asked quietly "keeping you warm— somone aughta do it " the ginger smiled proudly , gently rubbing Eugene side with his ungloved hand , Eugene simply accepted his fate, there wasn't much else he could do if he wanted to avoid frost bite, gene tiredly leaned against heffron , resting his head on his shoulder

The two stayed like that for a while, Essentially cuddled up as the sun started to lower more, there hadn't been any attacks since Luzs , gene had figured this meant the the Germans had turnt in for the holiday, the chrismas joy had carried throughout the line, the sounds of singing and laughing was heard throughout the camp, much to the dismay of those trying to keep the group of loudmouthed men quiet, the singing had lowered but hadn't came to a complete stop, the sheer chrismas cheer seemed to have made the Lieutenants and commanders let it slide just this once, for the morale of the soldiers 

Edward and Eugene had been half asleep in their foxhole, babes idea of warming him up had worked somewhat, it had managed to warm him up to enough to stop the teeth chattering, it wasnt to the same effect as having a jacket on but it was relieving enough to keep him from hypothermia 

"Thanks babe" gene finally spoke 

The words made the ginger grin ear to ear 

"Course' genie" 

"Genie, huh"  Eugene closed his eyes

"Could be eugina or sumn' if you prefer" babe joked, gently stroking genes side

"No, I like that" 

#baberoe #bill guarnere #joe liebgott #george luz #my first band of brother fic so be nice #band of brothers #lewis nixon #dick winters #easy company #richard winters #101st airborne #babe heffron #buck compton #subtle mentions of : #winnix #luztoye #might be noncanon acting my bad #edward heffron #gene roe #eugene roe #doc roe #renee lemaire #needed a exuse for them to cuddle sorry luz #babys first fic #band of brothers fic at least #swear ive written #lmk of grammar/spelling mistakes! #dabble ? #fanfic #connie writes

[ougougougoug]

😅👉🏽

this is a haiku that uses just two symbols.

so, let me explain:

(while editing this post i found out that a few emojis i use are not supported on certain browsers. clearly im being silenced.

if you paste them in discord, then they should display, otherwise, suffer?)

haikus are simple, but have a rigid structure, which is why they’re fun. just five syllables, then seven, then five again, arranged in three lines.

what I think is fun is what I like to call a ‘minimal haiku,' which is where you try to use as few symbols as possible to write all three lines of a haiku. so, for example, we start with numbers.

7 is so cool everybody likes 7 7 is funky

in this haiku here, although '7' is only one symbol, it counts as two syllables, because that's how it's pronounced. so, obviously, we can just kind of run with that, right?

so here is the smallest haiku i think you can make using numbers in this way.

here is the haiku:

77 707 77

"seventy seven seven hundred and seven seventy seven"

this haiku uses (fittingly) seven symbols, but it kind of sucks. we're playing fast and loose with what we're calling a haiku, but it would still be nice if the minimal haikus we wrote kind of, at least, sort of made sense, i think.

so here's the smallest haiku i have written so far using only numbers and letters.

alright, here is the haiku:

33 x 3 funny 700x 69 ha ha

"thirty three times three funny seven hundred times sixty nine ha ha"

its not exactly high art, but it's technically comprehensible as a series of words that express a full thought, and that's good enough.

obviously, you can go further than this, and the next logical step is ascii. I don't think there's any ascii symbols that can be pronounced as seven syllables, but there are a few that can do five.

so here's the smallest haiku i could make using just ascii symbols:

) :) !

"close parentheses colon, close parentheses exclamation mark"

wow! just four symbols, which tell the relatable story of a guy who wakes up and sees that he's slept through his alarm. (it conveys this thought pictorially, but it does convey a thought.)

of course, we can go further.

our next stop is emojis.

now, one thing that's problematic about these is that not everyone might agree on how they should be pronounced, but i say we just play with this, and use whatever makes our haikus work, because, well, it's more fun that way.

so, here's a fun haiku:

🌑 🌓 🌕

"new moon emoji first quarter moon emoji full moon emoji"

wow! just three symbols.

here's a haiku about a working class trans girl:

🧑‍🏭 👩‍🏭 ⚧️

"factory worker woman factory worker transgender symbol"

so, we've managed to make some haikus with just three symbols. but i think we can go smaller.

ive been limiting myself to writing haikus with three visible lines when written down, but you can't do that with just two symbols. so we're just gonna forget about that from this point on.

(as a quick little aside, i said before that, using just numbers,

77 707 77

was the best i could do, but if you ignore how it is written down,

77777

"seventy seven thousand seven hundred and seventy seven"

is a haiku in just one number. anyways, back to emojis)

😵‍💫 🤢

this is a haiku. let me explain to you why.

most emojis are single unicode characters. but some of them are secretly just combinations of two other emojis with a symbol called a 'zero width joiner' between them, which means, although they're displayed as just one symbol, you can break them up into three. here's the wiki page for 'face with spiral eyes', which lists the three unicode symbols that make up the emoji. with that knowledge, you can pronounce this fun haiku as:

"face with crossed out eyes zero width joiner, dizzy nauseated face"

which is a haiku about a person who's sick and might just frow up.

one common type of emoji sequence is for modifying the skin tone of certain emojis. for these, we won't think about what the zero width joiner is doing (in fact, i think some, but not all, of these don't even have one? it's unclear to me, but all the more reason to ignore them.) what we'll do instead is just use the 'CLDR Short Name', which you can find listed here and here on unicode.org. These are about as official as you can get with emoji names, and will cover the emojis i'll be using for the last haikus.

so let's look back at the haiku at the top of this post, shown again:

😅👉🏽

"grinning face with sweat backhand index pointing right medium skin tone"

this takes advantage of the skin colour of the pointing emoji.

so that's another haiku that uses just two symbols, which depicts an anxious person doing finger guns (perhaps they're anxious because they spilled some yellow paint on their face. who knows. like any great artist, my works are up to interpretation.) so this leaves us all asking...

is it possible?

we've done two symbol haikus, but what about...

one?

any emoji which shows a person can be modified both by skin colour and by gender. if there is more than one person in an emoji, then each person can be given their own modifiers.

This means it's just a matter of going through the list of emojis and hoping that you can find one that works.

and, well that's just what i did:

👨🏾‍❤️‍👨🏽

couple with heart: man, man, medium-dark skin tone, medium skin tone

this is the smallest haiku possible to write. it's just a single symbol.

and it's two gay men. a wonderful queer couple. and i think that's great.

#(technically haikus are not really this simple but the point of this post is not to teach you about real Japanese poetry #but to play with language #and the ‘haikubot-style haiku’ is an easy and already well known structure that I can use for that. aight? anyways.) #haiku #long post #this tag is here so that the tags can be a haiku

[estrellami-1]

Hey love, I’m so sorry about your friend, if we lived close to each other we could be grieving buddies and watch cute movies and hang out so we didn’t have to be alone but even from all this way away I’m here for you if you want to talk about it. I’m also totally down to see what you do with a part two of when the world ends but also if you don’t feel like writing any more of that one because it’s such a relevant topic right now I completely understand. I don’t have any suggestions for how that fic can be made all better either because I haven’t gotten to the all better part yet but I know you could work your magic with it. Also feel free to ignore this and never think about that fic again if it’s not something you want to think about because of everything. Just do what’s best for you 💜

Thank you my love. I’m doing alright for now, but you know how grief is. I typically process through writing, and hopefully this will (eventually) help you, too. ❤️

When the World Ends - Part 2

Eddie lays with Steve until he’s sure he’s fast asleep. His breathing is slow and deep, his hand—which had been curled tightly around Eddie’s own—is lax, fingers curling inward towards his palm.

Eddie wants a painting of this moment.

Not of the context; not of Steve, so wracked with grief, he gets sick from it. Not of Steve so frazzled he’s shaking and can barely finish a sentence. But this moment, here, now, where Steve is calm, has a minute to breathe, to dream of a world that doesn’t disappoint him… Eddie would pay for a commission of this moment. Something to have, to look at and know that the world—if only for one brief moment—isn’t entirely awful. That maybe it can be okay.

He sighs. It whiffles across Steve’s face, stirs his hair. He gets up after another moment, pads downstairs to the kitchen phone. Calls his trailer. “Hey, Uncle Wayne.”

“Eddie,” his uncle greets. “Y’ran off in a hurry.”

Eddie huffs a humorless laugh, leans against the wall. “Yeah. Sorry. Steve called.”

Wayne hums. “He okay?”

He sighs. “I think… I think he will be.” Wayne hums. “Y’know his dad?”

“Knew ‘im in high school. He was a dick.”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Still is. But his parents are good. Or… his mom is. His dad was.”

“Ah,” Wayne says. “How’s he holdin’ up?”

Eddie sighs again. “Got stressed enough to throw up. I got him in bed and asleep, but I’m kinda at a loss here, Wayne.”

“You’re a smart kid with a good head on your shoulders. You’ll do the right thing,” Wayne reassures him. “All he needs right now is a friend to support him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You stayin’ the night?”

Eddie hums. “Dunno yet. Probably. Imma wait till he wakes up, see what he wants.”

“Good kid,” Wayne agrees. “Lemme know what you decide. And lemme know if you need a change of clothes or your toothbrush.”

Eddie smiles then, the first real one in a while. “I will. Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

“You’ve got this,” Wayne assures him. “Love you, kiddo.”

“You too. Bye.”

The line goes dead, and Eddie leans against the wall, looking through the kitchen door, through the wall to the backyard, through existence itself.

He stands there for a few minutes, thinking, contemplating, before shaking himself out of it. He’s here for Steve, so he heads back upstairs, slips back into bed, and follows Steve into sleep.

He wakes up later to find Steve watching him. He smiles blearily. “M’rn’n,” he mutters, pushing his face into the pillow with a yawn before continuing, less sleep-slurred. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve’s still watching him, wide, dark eyes wetter than they should be. He nods, and Eddie smiles softly. “I’m glad,” he whispers. “You thinkin’ you wanna get up anytime soon?”

A hesitant shake of his head. Eddie soothes a hand down Steve’s arm. “That’s okay. Want me to stay?” Steve looks away. “Steve,” Eddie says, gently catching Steve’s chin and turning it back towards him. “I’ll stay if you want me to. For as long as you want me to.”

Steve’s bottom lip trembles. He blinks, and a tear slips out, running over his nose. He nods, a small, hesitant thing. “Okay,” Eddie promises. “I’ll stay, Stevie. I’ll always stay. How d’you feel about maybe having some food?”

Steve shakes his head. Tears are slipping from his closed eyelids. Eddie wipes some of them away. “That’s okay,” he says, pulling Steve into a hug. Steve lets out a choked sob into Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Eddie murmurs, rubbing his back. “It’ll be alright, Steve. You just get it out now.”

Eddie’s own eyes start to burn, and he sniffles, looking up. This isn’t about him, it’s about Steve, and he’s going to hold it together for as long as Steve needs him to. “I’ve got you,” he promises, “and I’m not letting go.”

Once again, there is NO taglist for this! You can follow along by subscribing to “#whentheworldends” for the fic or “#starambles” for all my writing. Send me an ask if you’d like to see more of this ’verse!

#stranger things #whentheworldends #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #wayne munson #asks #cw: grief #starambles

[good-beanswrites]

sorryf im being mentally ill about hallucination event right now SO in the LCSyS au, would there be something like it :o? Like after all of it's over or something, how crazy would it be if Jackalope tried to get them all together just to do one last concert?

Never apologize for being mentally ill about Milgram content 😌👍 We are all in it together 😔👍I'm combining this answer with a reply to @kikithedeceiver (and spiraling out of control from both)

I've had a lot of ideas about the project being public in LCSyS, but was holding off including it for few reasons – the audience’s voices would conflict with Es as their own character. Knowing the public was watching would change the way the prisoners acted (even if they thought they were acting natural). It’s a long time that the families would have to deal with the public knowing about their loved one’s almost-crime. I also like the idea of this au ending with the prisoners returning to very normal lives. 

Buuuuut it is such a fun idea, and popularity seems an essential part of an actors au. So, I’m not naming this as canon, but here’s a pitch if you liked that idea and wanted to run with it :3

The team doesn’t tell the participants that they’ve been recording/collecting certain material to release. If a translation is left out by accident, the prisoners just assume it’s for a foreign team member – they have no idea how close/far Milgram reaches. 

The third trial begins. The prisoners are inside the prison, and on the final stretch of the trials. On the outside, Jackalope contacts families for signatures to release the material publicly. The team thought about censoring names and things, but seeing current fans’ investigation skills, they knew it was a matter of time before they put pieces together anyway. This may be super illegal but for the sake of the story I’ll say that family consent is enough lmao.

Some of them are easy to convince to sign off on everything, since it can raise awareness for their loved one’s struggles. Muu’s family takes the longest, as it would risk ruining their reputation. (They’re only swayed because it truly is a great opportunity to show off Muu’s talents for those modeling scouts, and she didn’t actually kill anyone in the end.) Kazui’s family refuses to release his info, but Hinako uses sway with her marital status to sign off instead (I pictured things happening fast enough where she hasn’t gotten an official divorce yet). Hinako still struggles with what he did, but she thinks he’s doing something incredibly brave now. I’m not 100% sure what’s going through Amane’s father’s mind, but if the murder really was in line with the cult’s beliefs, maybe he believes that Amane will be be a shining representation of their religion. He wants to show her off as their little golden child.

The experiment is published in its current form: music videos, voice dramas, timeline conversations, interrogation questions, etc. It’s brought to more than just science/psychology circles, though. Jackalope has no shame in marketing it as entertainment, hence the stockholders mentioned. He assures the sociologists that this will be a major breakthrough for them. He tells music labels he's got the new hit thing for them. He leans into the excitement of releases and merchandise in the hopes of gaining attention for the experiment. Needless to say, it works. Even though the audience has no sway over Es’ decisions, they are encouraged to make decisions for themselves on what they would judge each prisoner. There’s the same types of theory/analysis/discourse posts passed around. 

When the trials end, the prisoners are released into the world to find they’re famous. Instead of trudging back to their lives feeling that society hates them, they find tons of adoring fans telling them how much they understand and forgive them. Even if their final verdict was guilty, they have hundreds of voices assuring them that they are loved. That they are not alone. This attention really helps Haruka, Amane, (and maybe Es) who don’t have a good home to go back to. Not only can they reenter society, they are welcomed with open arms. They are looked after and showered in love. Some of the adults realize they want to use this popularity to lead the charge of social change. They create/support projects meant to help people who are facing their struggles.

And of course, there’s the other type of fame as well. Yuno loves answering fanmail and turning her karaoke hobby into a music career. Kazui goes from a life of feeling rejected and disgusting to scrolling through comments upon comments of men oogling him. Mahiru gets offers from fashion magazines and blogs to write up sections about self-love. Amane gets to live out her dream of being a performer, hinted at in her first two mvs. Fuuta is flustered by all the positive attention his appearance/voice is getting. Mikoto… well, I just wish him luck when he opens tiktok…

Which brings us to the live event! The prisoners have tried to keep in touch while adjusting to their new lives as almost-murderers-turned-idols. They’re amazed at how well-recieved the trial songs were. Those were some of their most personal, shameful secrets, and people relate to them? People love singing them?? People want a concert featuring them??? Jackalope encourages them to get together for one last encore. Some are thrilled with the opportunity, others are still nervous about the whole thing. Some think it’s in poor taste, that Jackalope is milking them for entertainment. But with a bit of conversing amongst themselves, they realize they all want a chance to sing like that again, and see each other in one place again. (It’s ironic because in my head Mahiru is the one to convince everyone to come ;--;) 

It’s strange putting on the uniforms again. Es is unsure about putting on their guard’s cloak. But the minute they stop onstage, they’re met with wild applause. They can sing their fears and dreams to a huge crowd and see in real time how it’s reaching others. They hear the cheers after each song. They hear that it’s streamed all over the world. All of them have an absolute blast, and pour their heart and soul into their performances.

#milgram #lights camera sing your sins #thank you both for the comments! #its not the direction i want for the fic but its SUCH a fun direction 😭 #as you can see from the annoyingly long post ive already had a lot of ideas for it asdfsdf #so many of the prisoners struggle with lack of love/attention -- so introducing them to the current fans who with shower them in adoration #always makes me happy to think about #those who feel undesirable see their faces on merch and people who try to mimic them #those who feel unlovable hear their name chanted when they enter the room #and mug i know that technically they could have a concert without everything being public but i tried to keep it accurate to the real event #and yes -- fuuta does put on an eyepatch on a whim halfway through 😂

[terrific-fish]

Church of the Doodler fight Analysis

With the Sparrow/Lark and Henry fight in Alright, there are some elements that I wanted to examine up front. We have “How much is Sparrow pretending to be Lark?” “How much did Sparrow mischaracterize?” and “How much was directed at Lark?”  I went through the fight argument pretty much line by line. The transcript I wrote is here if you want to follow along

 https://www.tumblr.com/terrific-fish/702290471169474560/im-about-to-analyze-the-crap-out-of?source=share

Firstly, when the scene begins, Lark and Sparrow seem to be hanging back. Scam Actually has all of the limelight, sitting on the throne. When Scam suggests that it has to be one of the Oak Boys, Henry isn’t looking at them. Henry addresses his next comment to Scam, implying he isn’t looking at the twins.

Then Lark says he can do it. We know from listening that Sparrow takes the place of Lark. I choose to believe, based on a pitch difference, and the implications it has for Sparrow, that this interjection came from The Real Lark.

Then, once Henry tells him no, that it’s crazy dangerous, “Lark” yells that he “KNOW[s] it’s crazy dangerous”. I believe that this line starts Sparrow’s act. Lark said he would do it, and Sparrow trusts his brother to do it. That said, he’s still upset that anyone is thinking of doing it, and that’s why the word KNOW is emphasized.

Then we get to see Anthony describe “Lark”. This implies that the group turned to look at him enter the room, which renders my theory plausible.

Sparrow proceeds to say that he’d do it because he wants to protect Henry. I see this as a bad performance of Lark, something Sparrow said because he had to say something. It’s something that Lark would feel, but not necessarily say out loud .Then when Henry says he won’t let Lark do it, Sparrow shouts and asks “NO?” a few times. The NOes, however, I think lead back to his experience in the season 1 finale.

The way I first understood the finale (which I’ve since adjusted my take on) was that Sparrow didn’t know Lark’s plan to stab Henry. From the Needlejuice Era, we know that that wasn’t the case, that he was in on it.

The way I see Sparrow’s “NO?” “NO?” is that he’s remembering the time where he didn’t keep Lark from putting their father in danger (i.e. stabbing him) and feeling a helpless rage at being barred from protecting him this time.

When Sparrow says it’s his fault, he’s talking about himself and Lark as a unit. The line about “punishing” hits deep. He cuts himself off from it, and I think it’s because how he feels himself being punished, and how he perceives Lark feeling punished are different. He doesn’t want to show his cards, or his brother’s.

When he starts stumbling over his words, and shouting “People don’t make mistakes like this” I think that anger is less at himself and more at Lark. He is absolutely angry at himself, don’t get me wrong, but his anger is spread over the both of them. His childhood ended because of Lark’s mistake, and while they have bonded over it, he still holds resentment over it. Not enough to separate him from his brother, but enough to fester.

When Sparrow talks about how it’s his fault, the way he emphasizes the word “fix” has layers to me. He has to fix the Doodler, period. That is a shared trait. But I think that he also feels like he has to fix the animosity between Lark and Henry. He thinks he’s the only one who can fix it, because he’s the only one close enough to them both to do so.

Then he says that if someone will die for this, it would be him. I think he says this genuinely as himself, while knowing it’s something that Lark would also say. I also think that perhaps Lark would’ve heard the truth in the statement, and been devastated by it, if not for him being younger here, with the rage so close.

Sparrow continues, saying “If you had just been better- If you had been-” and then he gasps, having run out of air, and Henry takes over. I think that Sparrow was going to finish that with “If you had been there.” I think, with Walter and Henry’s regeneration spell being brought up in the episode, that Sparrow was referencing when Walter’s legs got cut off, and Lark’s need for vengeance sprung up. If Henry had been there [to fix Walter and support his kids through the trauma] then he wouldn’t be like this.

When Sparrow says  “If you’d been a better father, I wouldn’t be like this” “Father” and “Be” are emphasized. We can read this straight as is, I think that this is something Sparrow agrees with for himself and for Lark both. I also think that the emphasis implies that he sees himself as Lark’s caretaker. This is furthered when Sparrow says “this is my fault, but it’s your fault too, you fucked this up- we fucked this up.” I almost see it as an angry kinship. He’s furious because they both managed to fail Lark, and the way Sparrow finds penance for that is to continue helping Lark do what he needs to do.

That’s how I see the end of his line, with “This FUCKING needs to happen.” He didn’t say that “I need to do this,” with the next Twin Action being Lark’s reveal. He said this needs to happen, as in, Lark needs to do this, and he’s under my charge and yours. I will let him do it, and you will not stop him.

After Henry has the Letter Monologue (not that he 100% read from the letter), the illusion fades from Sparrow. I think that Sparrow was the one powering the illusion, and that Henry got through to him. Sparrow’s brand of anger, in my estimation, could be alleviated by Henry’s apology and plea to keep Lark safe. The illusion failed at that moment because subconsciously, Sparrow wanted Henry to keep Lark safe more than he wanted Lark to do what he felt he needed to do.

Finally, we see Lark’s reveal, and his apology. Hot take, the apology was to Darryl and nobody else. “Sorry for playing a trick, guy who’s only tangentially involved in my eldritch family drama.” It could also be for Sparrow, for making him argue with their father when all he wants is peace between the three of them. It is, most importantly, the last thing he says to his father before his potential death. A simple “Sorry.” But the sorry was almost meek. In this moment, if he was addressing his family, he knew that all the sorries in the world couldn’t help them, but he felt the need to try, knowing it would be just another drop in the bucket.

And of course, Lark seeing himself in the Doodler, and deciding that it needs killing over rehabilitation. That’s an essay in and of itself.

Thanks for reading!

#pretty please interact I spent 3 hours on this #sparrow oak #character analysis #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads spoiler #dungeons and daddies spoiler #dndads spoilers #dungeons and daddies spoilers

[greenorangevioletgrass]

i’m almost scared to ask because this song kills me but i just need to read this fic for blurb week- chemtrails by lizzy mcalpine?

bro i gotta admit... this is killing me too. i cried basically the whole time im writing this, but i hope you like it bc im pretty happy with how it turned out. also! the music here is extra special bc i sang and played it myself <333

warnings: fluff, grief, this is very goose and rooster-centric, im just a big ball of mush guys <3

***

“Man, I forgot how nice it is out here.” Rooster leans back, hands propping himself up as he sits cross-legged on the fresh green grass. The clear blue sky sprawling over his head. Maybe it’s the peace and quiet, maybe it's the fresh air, but this is one of the few places where he can actually…

Breathe.

“We’re nearly packed up now. Found this nice place in San Clemente with a nice deck out, maybe even a fire pit —you’re gonna love it,” he chuckles, resigning with the fact that he’s excited about the stereotypically dad stuff now, like decks and barbecues. 

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a drive to North Island, but we wanted a place somewhere in between there and LA.” It was an extensive discussion to say the least. You work in completely different fields with equally grueling and unusual hours —if not days, or weeks, or months. “I thought maybe we should keep our own places, so she can be close to her work and I can be near base, but… I don’t think I’d want it any other way?”

He’s already away from you so much. What’s an extra hour-and-a-half drive if it means he can crawl into bed and fall asleep in your arms? He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Not when it comes to you.

“She’s great, by the way,” he perks up immediately at the thought of you. “She does these musicals that Mom liked, and actions and all these cool stuff —I’ve even taken her flying for one of her movies. She’s, uh…”

How does he even begin to describe you? How you put all your might into your work —whether it’s Top Gun or a romance with one other actor and a piano— without any pretense, emotions running high and mind going a mile a minute at work —a delicate art of letting go and reigning it back in—, and then come home and just be… human with him. 

Kind, caring, funny, imperfect, human.

“She’s pretty badass,” he smiles a little. His hand picks at the grass under his palm, suddenly nervous about what he’s about to say next. “I think she might be it.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying it. For celebration, having made a very big, grownup step in his life? For comfort, because he doesn’t admit it to anyone (not even to himself) but he’s so scared he’s nowhere near grown enough to do this? Maybe for reassurance, because he so wants it to be true.

The earth below him is warm. Steady. The grass layers as a soft place for his hands to land. For his body to ground. White clouds paint the sky in an array of lines. A gentle breeze sweeps across his face, and the trees nearby whisper in rustles, and Rooster swears he almost hears it.

And so he asks.

“Talk to me, Dad.”

******

His childhood home, a modest two-bedroom with white-paneled front, sits on a quiet street in the suburbs of Virginia Beach. The maple tree out front has cuts and carvings on its trunk from when Rooster got into throwing knives (a hobby his mom had an ulcer over), and a broken branch from when he installed a makeshift swing and tried to get himself and two other friends swinging on it back in 8th grade. He hears the piano playing as he walks up the steps —the old, secondhand upright that’s a little out of tune now.

The sight he finds upon opening the door isn’t surprising —you sat on the bench, fingers working the piano keys, phone propped on the music stand— but his heart catches anyway.

“Still think we should keep it?” he pats the flat surface on the top, leaving his keys and his sunglasses there.

“Oh, definitely. This baby…” you thoughtfully stroke the lacquered wood finish, “She’s a gem. Nothing a little tuning can’t fix.”

He kisses the top of your head and sits next to you. Both of you know there’s nothing special about this piano in particular. Not when it comes to its sound or feel or anything taken into consideration for an instrument.

It just happens to be his dad’s first (and only) big purchase for the house.

“Hey, uh…” you pipe up gingerly, “I wrote something for you. May I…?”

You may be a lot of things, but shy isn’t one of them. At least not with him. He just throws you a funny look. “Babe, of course. What—”

“Okay.” With that you shift into a straighter position, fingers hovering just above the ivories. You’re quiet —hesitant, almost— before you play the first line. Pressing just one key at a time. 

“I see chemtrails in the sky, but I don’t see the plane.”

Rooster’s breath catches in his throat.

“I know the feeling, but I don’t know the name.”

A simple melody, floating like a question, and he doesn’t understand how you could explain it before than he himself does.

“I still play with my food, and then I… throw it away.” 

An admission so simple, it almost sounds childlike. You pause for a moment, and he squeezes your knee in reassurance. For you and for himself. 

“It’s so hard to believe I had to grow up this way.”

The piano picks up, a simple sustained pattern, and he can hear you try to keep the emotions in your voice at bay. A valiant effort that even he fails to do at the moment.

I moved out and I made some new friends

Sometimes when I shout it feels like no one hears it

And there are some days when I that somewhere you’re watching

As I grow up without you

I miss it, I miss you.

Rooster collapses his head on your shoulder, and kisses you there in thanks. For understanding. For seeing right through him and communicating it in the exact way that he would understand.

For letting him know that his dad’s listening.

The childhood home, now bare —save for stacks of moving boxes and an old upright piano in one corner of the living room— sits quietly in the suburbs of Virginia Beach. The boy who grew up there is taller now. Older. Smarter, wiser —or so he hopes. A spitting image of his father —and yet, everything he wasn’t.

Angrier. Older. Carrying a bigger chip on his shoulder.

And yet… maybe, hopefully, he’ll hold up just fine.

“Are you okay?” your hand slips into his, so easily and effortlessly that it just feels like it’s where it should be.

“Yeah,” he answers, heady and dazed. He brings up your intertwined hands to his lips, and presses a kiss there. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“I think I might’ve had a clue or two?” your voice, bright and laced with humor, rings almost out of place in the solemn stillness of this house. This moment.

But it’s not. It falls perfectly in place as life breathes back in, a familiar little laughter shared between the two of you. Warmth in the face of grief and hurt and loss.

He straightens up and takes a good look at you. He’s not sure why, but at the moment, it feels right. And as it falls out of his lips, he doesn’t feel an ounce of regret.

“Will you marry me?”

And he’s not sure whether he should be more surprised by his question, or the fact that you answer so easily, so surely, so matter-of-factly. “Roo… Of course.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“I haven’t even got a ring yet.”

“That’s fine. We can always get it later.”

“I’ll get it, not you,” he corrects firmly, and it makes you laugh. It’s the most beautiful sound he’ll ever hear, and he finally pulls you in for a proper kiss. It’s not planned, it’s far from perfect, but he wouldn’t ever have it any other way.

#the actress & the aviator #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x actress!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x actress!reader #ava writes

[idk3453]

Mafia

Chapter 7

Mafia chapter 7 

You Can Run But You Cant Hide...

Hey guys!! sorry chapter 7 took so long to write, had a little bit of writer's block, along with some projects I needed to do for my class. But here is chapter 7! I am currently writing chapters 8 and 9! If you are new to the series Hi and welcome, those who are coming back, Hi and welcome back!.

Now, here it is Mafia chapter 7

If you havent read the chapters dont worry I will link it down below!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Synopsis: Elvis Presley, the notorious mafia leader of Memphis, Tennessee has the town on its feet. Fear, power, money, and women surround him and his Memphis mafia. But what happens when one day you stumble into his world? And he makes you fall in love with him? 

Elvis POV: 

I dont know what happened, one minute I was showing off my girl Y/N to my mafia, then the next Im tackling Lamar to the ground. It all happened in the blink of an eye. 

“Elvis stop!” “Let him go!” said Jerry

Each punch I threw connected with Lamars face. 

“That's enough Elvis, look what you're doing!” Jerry continued to yell. 

In a desperate attempt to reduce injuries to his face, Lamar used his arms as a shield, blocking my punches as best he could.  Blood stained my white shirt along with Lamar's face.

Feeling my arms being pulled away from Lamar, I kept trying to break free. kicking my legs every which way.

“Let me go! he needs to learn his place!” I yelled trashing and trying to remove myself from their grip on me.

“Elvis, I’m sorry!” Said Lamar. 

“Elvis, calm down, look at what you did!’ For god sakes Y/N is terrified!” 

The mention of her name snapped me back to reality. 

“Y/N!, Y/N, baby where are you?” 

“Shes gone Elvis, I had one of the men take her to your room. You should have seen her, she was shaking like a leaf!” said Jerry. 

“God damnit!” Slamming the wall with my hands. My hands were covered with Lamar's blood.

“I didn’t want her to get scared of me” running my hand through my hair. It’s a habit I formed when I become either anxious or upset. 

“Well, congratulations EP, you fucking just did!” said Jerry sarcastically. 

Looking at the scene I caused, Lamar's bloody face, crying repeating the words I'm sorry E, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I slowly backed away from my men and said “Imma head upstairs to check on her” “Jer, take Lamar to the nurse, I’ll see him in a bit” 

“Will do” 

And with that I quickly made my way up the stairs. 

Jogging, I got up to the top floor, the black padded doors greet me, but not the way I wanted them to. Slowly, I grabbed the door handles, and sweat dripped from my forehead. "What if I scared her for good." "how am I going to get y/n to trust me if she is scared of me." sighing I slowly turned the handle to open the doors to my room. 

“Y/N?” I said 

I waited for a response, but when nothing came after a few seconds I inched my head closer to my room.

"Y/N," I said again as I looked further into the room, I spotted her huddled in a corner, her knees to her face.

"way to fucking go, Elvis she hates you now," my conscious told me. those last three words haunting me "She hates you". shaking the feeling out of my head, I inched my way closer to her.

“Baby? I know this looks bad, but I did it for a good reason” I said. 

“Lamar needed to know his place, and he crossed the line making that comment.” 

I said making my way closer to her, Y/N still didn’t move nor look up. 

“Baby, please look at me”  nothing

“I didn’t mean to scare you” nothing again, y/n hasn't moved an inch.

“I Just have a bad temper” "My temper tend to get the best of me little"

I got as close to Y/N as I could. kneeling down in front of her, I pushed a few hair strands back. Trying my best to have her at least look at me. I don’t want her to think I’m some monster. 

“Baby, please look at me” 

"I'm terribly sorry" "It wont happen again, I promise"

"Like hell it wont", I muttered under my breath

Y/N started to look up at me, slowly lifting her head up from her knees. 

“That’s it baby, please look at me” 

As she slowly lifted her head up, I was so distracted that I didn’t notice her right hand, holding a vase. Y/N smashes it to the side of my head. 

Knocking me down on the ground, I tried to compose myself. Processing what just happened.

I looked up from where I was and saw she was running towards the doors.

“Come back here!” I yelled Blood dripped from my forehead. But the adrenaline was enough to pull me up and get me to my feet. running as fast as I could to stop her. Y/N was dashing past the door, making it down the stairs. Exiting the front door, out of Graceland and out of my reach.

“Fuck!” I said punching the wall thus creating a small hole in it. 

“JERRY!, LARRY!, CHARLIE!” I NEED YALL HERE NOW!” I yelled, my head pounding every which way.

They all ran from where they were to come find me. 

“EP what’s wrong?!” “Is there trouble?!” Said Charlie 

“Jerry starts the car, Y/N escaped,” I said almost breathlessly. "God damn that blow was hard." clutching onto the side of my forehead pulling my hand away, I saw a few drops of blood on them.

“Shit!, E how?!” said Larry

Annoyed I looked up from where I was starting at and said “DON'T ASK QUESTIONS JUST DO AS I SAY!” 

And with that, my men left and started to get the car ready. Quickly making my way down the stairs I winced as the effects of the adrenaline started to wear off. 

I finally made it past the stairs and reached the front doors of Graceland.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” I told myself. Graceland is in a secluded area, there’s no way she could have gone far. 

“Beep!” “Beep!” “You ready E?” Yelled Jerry 

“Yeah!Let's go find her! 

And with that, Jerry revved up the engine of my Cadillac Eldorado, me getting into the passenger seat, Larry and Charlie in the back seat, and Jerry as Driver. Jerry backs up the car harshly, and looking at rear view mirror, Graceland began to become farther and farther from our reach. And now it is off to find where my little runway has gone too.

"You can run, but you cant hide," I said silently as the hunt to find Y/N was on.

What do we think yall!

What do you think is gonna happen in chapter 8 and 9!

I wanna hear your thoughts.

Thank you @erutluve for the pics for the Mafia Fan Fics! I love them so much!

Thank you to @erutluv, @plasticfantasticl0ver and @natipooxx

I can't wait for y'all to read the next chapters! Stay tuned!

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis fanfic #mafia fic #mafia romance #memphis mafia #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #jerry schilling #fanfic #elvis fans #elvis the king

[moonlit-flowerfield]

How Reckless (Intruality) ═SOULMATE AU═ || Sanders Sides Big Bang 2022

By Artist_Hope; beta read by @edupunkn00b and @kaythegay2022; art by @dystopiagnome and @im-an-anxious-wreck

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

AO3 Link!!

Chapter: 4/4

Chapter word count: 1436

A total of 24 Google Doc pages, at 12 size Times New Roman font and ×2 line space.

Janus was walking out of the cafe when he saw a relatively short man recklessly cross the road. He figured it was a local who just knew the timing but the second he saw another man following the short one, he moved closer with a bad feeling. The auburnet looked down the street, seeing a car speeding closer. Without really even thinking, he dropped his cup, pulled the ravenet out of the street and held a hand on the man's waist to keep him close until the car passed. "Jackass driver…"

The man he saved blinked a little, before letting out a sigh of pure shaken relief and what seemed to be an instinct of putting his hands on Janus'. "Thank you…"

Janus went to say "you're welcome" when he saw his crazy Soulmate mark glow a bright dark blue. Similarly, the man he had just rescued seemed to have a yellow glow coming from where Janus' hands were through his top. "Did I really just save the man who's supposed to be my soulmate? Is that really how this is gonna start?" Janus asked no one in particular, but clearly not talking to the man in his arms.

Logan blinked as he stared at the man holding him. "You're telling me… I looked like an idiot for a first impression." A sigh. "I promise, I am not normally that unattached to reality. I was merely worried about my friend."

Speaking of, Patton was working on dashing back across the street. "Oh my god, Logan, are you okay?! I'm sorry for running off, I'm so out of it today—"

"It's alright, Patton," Logan insisted, before turning his attention back to the auburn-haired person. "As my friend just told you, my name is Logan. Logan Nyx…" He said, feeling his cheeks warm as the slender framed human continued to hold him.

Janus blushed himself, noticing Logan's blush and helping him stand properly before letting Logan go. "Janus Drake. Nice to meet you, Mr Nyx…" Where they had been holding each other was currently still glowing as Janus looked at the back of his hands. "Talk about a showstopper… Saving your soulmate from a driver who needs brain repairs."

Logan nodded, trying to cover his glowing shoulder with a hand. "It definitely makes for a good start on your end…"

Patton blinked, moving over to Logan and lifting his shirt and sweater up just enough to see his Soulmate mark, causing a small grumble from the professor. "Wait… You also met your Soulmate today? That's so cool!" Patton dropped the shirt and smiled brightly at Logan.

Janus blinked. "Also?"

Logan sighed and nodded, trying to calm his cheeks. "My twin brother, Virgil, also happened to meet his Soulmate. He's off with them now before starting a late shift at his job. Or one of them I suppose." He sighed. "He's working at a bar and some weekdays at an art supplies store."

"Ah, I see," Janus hummed. Then he realized something. "Did you say your friend's name is Patton?"

Logan blinked. "Yes…? Why?"

Janus moved over, gaining his normal confidence as he wrapped his arms around Logan. "Well, my own friend happens to be looking for one Patton Morgan. How exciting~."

Logan blushed again, willing to play along with this suave version of Janus. "I see… Where is this friend of yours?" Logan asked back in a flirtatious tone.

As these two exchanged information, Patton tuned out for a few seconds then turned around. "I'm out."

Logan looked annoyed. "Patton, get back here." Janus snorted.

"No, no way, I'm not doing this. You're being all lovey-dovey with him, Virgil ran off with that… That red guy and I really don't feel like being a 3rd wheel!" He said, carefully crossing the street again and turning to look at the two. "It's just not happ-"

He grunted as he bumped into someone behind him, turning and frowning a little. "Sorry…"

The taller person in front of him blinked. "No, that's my bad. I'm trying to find my brother and wasn't paying attention-"

Patton rubbed his arm and sighed. "I-If you're sure…" He moved aside and walked off.

The guy watched Patton walk off, before looking at his phone. "There's no way," he muttered as Logan and Janus approached.

"Hm…" Janus moved closer. "Apologies, Remus, but you seem to be having issues believing." And with a swift movement, Janus pinched Remus' arm harshly, causing a wince from the tall green clad cop and the man who walked off. “Let me help you out.”

Remus looked at the small human, wide eyes. Shooting a look at Janus, he spoke. "A) Fuck you, Janus. B)—" Remus turned back to the guy walking away and ran up to him, being wary of where Janus pinched. "Excuse me, are you Patton Morgan?"

“Y—yeah,” Patton turned to the stranger, pulling his hood up. "Why…"

The stranger smiled. "I'm Remus Duke… Uh, your Soulmate…" He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

Patton blinked at the taller guy. "A-Ah… A-And you can prove that…?"

Remus thought for a moment, before showing the most recent scar to their collection — the gash on his arm. "I have a few other scars too… One near my ankle, one on my stomach…"

Patton wasn’t too sure how to feel, besides a little worried and put off by Remus being so open with old wounds. After all, finding his Soulmate was good! He had a chance to get rid of this connection! And yet…

Remus was definitely not what he expected. This Duke was sort of weird and he didn't really seem to mind talking about his wounds like they were a trophy or something. At least, he didn't seem to have an issue with them. He also gave Patton the vibe of someone not loyal at all. He wasn't quite sure why, but perhaps over-hearing him say "fuck you" to what he assumed was a friend was it. But overall, he just couldn't get a good read on Remus.

He watched as Logan and Janus walked up, smiling. At least they moved to just holding hands… "I get it," he exclaimed to Remus, hands moving up in a defensive motion! "We have the same scars and stuff…" Patton bit his lip. It wouldn't be right to not get to know Remus… Right? After all, wrong first impressions happened all the time! "We're, uh… We're having a movie night tonight at our place… If you wanted to come, we could make it, like… a Soulmate party?"

Janus smiled. "Does that invitation extend to moi?” He asked in a tone Patton could only call sultry, looking at Logan and humming as he waited on an answer.

Logan rolled his eyes, though he did seem to be smiling. "Yes, it does. I know Virgil will most likely have extended it to his Soulmate and we already had two others joining us if available." Logan smiled more confidently at Janus. "Besides, I would like to get to know you more."

Remus gave a smile. "Can my twin bro come too? He's kinda lame at first, but he grows on ya."

Patton gave a forced smile. "I don't see why not. Logan can give you the address, I'm going to go home and nap… Excuse me…" Logan opened his mouth to offer Patton a ride home, or maybe walk with him. He didn't really stick around to find out, just saying goodbye with an added "Just really tired!"

Once home, he took a few deep breaths and moved to his room. So much for sleep, he thought, groaning. He moved to his incense, a present from Virgil for his past birthday. Most of the scents were calming ones, though he did mention one of them had a healing idea or something. Either way, Patton set up his pure lavender ones, lighting 3 of them and groaning more.

The short man laid face first on his bed, sighing. He at least tried to sleep, failing for an hour and a half or so before rolling onto his back and pulling his phone out. Patton hopped on one of the discords he was on, seeing a call already going on. After asking if he could get advice and getting a sure from everyone, he hopped into the call.

"Heya, Patton," exclaimed a very energetic feminine voice. "You doing okay?"

Patton let out another groan, longer than the other two.

Another feminine voice, a calmer and more timid one, spoke up. "That… doesn't sound good…"

"Emu, Kohane… I think I'm not gonna survive tonight."

#Sanders Sides Big Bang 2022 #sanders sides #patton sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #intruality #prinxiety #loceit #remile #sanders sides au #sanders sides writing