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tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

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in-ky · 3 years

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Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith #au!negan #the walking dead #twd smut #twd negan

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inactiveanimeblog · 3 years

Text

breaking up with akatsuki members

akatsuki x reader

tw : angst, mentions of sex, toxic relationships

im not sure if i’ll make a part two for other akatsuki members, or a part where you guys will get back together.

sasori

“i just don’t think we should be together anymore. i’m sorry, i still love you no matter what sasori.”

sasori was quiet for a moment, tinkering with one of his puppets while you were nervously confronting him about breaking up, fidgeting in the seat next to him.

“so you wanna break up hm?” he questioned, his voice amused. “where will you go?”

“i— i have money saved. i’ll go settle somewhere.. in a small village.”

sasori scoffed, even chuckled a bit. clearly mocking you. “you wouldn’t last a day without me.”

now you were starting to get upset, you frowned and scrunched your eyebrows. “you really think i need you that much?”

“please don’t act like you’re something without me. i take care of you, feed you, and give you a place to stay. all at no cost. you ungrateful brat.” he spat out, adjusting the placements of the puppets body.

“i never asked for any of that. see this is why i’m leaving you. you treat me like some incompetent child. i’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” you got up to pack your stuff, grabbing a suitcase out of the closet and taking everything you bought with your own money, leaving all the things he had bought you behind. as you were about to leave he spoke once more.

“you’re gonna regret leaving me, i’ll be here when you’re ready to come back.” he said, his voice monotone as he kept his eyes and hands on the puppet. you took your things and left.

hidan

“hidan for crying out loud. you’re such a pig. flirting with other women in front of me.”

you and hidan were out eating at a small hut near the akatsuki hide out, and he was very casually flirting with the girl working behind the counter, and she was flirting back like you weren’t there.

“babe, you can be so annoying sometimes. stop worrying that pretty little head of yours. it’s you i come home to fuck every night anyways.” he said, putting his arms behind his head.

“annoying? seriously? hidan, do you not know how a fucking relationship works?” you were angered. this wasn’t the first time hidan has done this to you. but this was certainly the last. you were over it. over him.

“watch your fucking tone with me bitch, don’t act all high and mighty. i’ll leave you.”

“you’ll leave ME? please hidan, you know what? we’re done. don’t try coming to see me anymore, i’m going back to the house, grabbing my shit, and leaving.” you got up, leaving him behind. him and the waitress snickered.

“my shifts over soon, wanna come over?” the women asked him.

hidan smirked and took a sip of his drink. “yeah, as long as you make me feel better.” she giggled at him, and gave a wink before finishing up her shift.

it’s been two weeks since you guys broke up. hidan regretted what happened between you guys and he ignored your words to go look for you. but you were no where to be found.

obito

“obito, why do i feel like you don’t love me anymore. like your mind wanders elsewhere when we’re having sex, or even when we’re talking. are you still thinking about rin?” you asked, slightly upset to say the least.

you and obito have been dating for a few months and you knew about the women who he loved that tragically passed away. it was a terrible death that ruined him, but you were doing everything you could to mend his broken heart.

“y/n i don’t wanna hear that shit right now, i love you and i love rin. stop bringing her up. i’m over you being jealous.” he answered.

“jealous? as if i would be jealous of a dead women obito.” you scoffed. is he serious right now?

“what the fuck did you just say?” he turned to you, his raspy voice was now raising at you.

“you heard me. i would never be jealous of her. ever.”

“well you should be.” he chuckled lowly. “i loved her a lot more than i love you.”

and that was it. you heard enough.

“okay obito, if that’s how it is then we’re done. don’t even bother with me anymore.” you quickly got up from the living room couch to go upstairs and grab your things. obito followed you up there rambling non sense, cussing at you.

“if you leave now, don’t come back.” he yelled while you were packing your things.

“i won’t.” you yelled back. once you were done packing you quickly left. trudging out of the house and to a nearby hotel.

obito deeply regretted what he said, and he didn’t mean it. he loved you more than anything although his mind was elsewhere while you guys were together. but it wasn’t about rin in a way that he wanted to be with her. no, he had been stressed and having nightmares recently, not sure how to talk to you about it.

kakuzu

“you never pay any attention to me kakazu. it’s always ‘money this, money that.’ why won’t you spend more time with me?” you asked.

you were hurt. kakazu paid no mind to you at all, even getting annoyed with you when you tried having conversations with him.

“will you leave me alone? i’m busy right now and you’re starting to piss me off. go do something productive.” he responded, counting up the money his hand.

“kakazu all i ask is that you pay a little more attention to me. we’re dating, i’m your girlfriend. i need love sometimes.” you said, your voice starting to crack and tears forming in your eyes.

“y/n, i’m gonna ask you one last fucking time to leave me alone. stop being so clingy.” he still has yet to turn to look at you, still counting his money.

“okay fine, if that’s how it is then we’re through. i hope that money loves you as much as i do.” the tears we’re now spilling from your eyes as you packed your things.

kakazu didn’t say anything, he completely ignored you as you were leaving. if that’s how it was going to be then this break up was for the better.

deidara

“deidara, this relationship is getting too toxic for me. we fight almost every single day and the only thing we do to make up is have sex. i can’t do this anymore.” you said, getting up off the bed to put your clothes back on.

“babe, relax. come over here and cuddle with me. i wanna go for another round.” he smirked, still in bed butt ass naked.

“no, see?? do you think sex will solve everything? why don’t you start thinking with your brain instead of your dick.” you spat out.

“okay now you’re starting to fucking irritate me.” he said getting up to put his clothes back on as well.

“well maybe you should listen to me. you’re an adult so fucking act like one.”

“excuse you? all you do is whine and complain. if you’re so sick of me then just leave.”

“okay, if that’s what you want then i’m gone. we’re through. have fun trying to find someone that’s gonna put up with you.”

you packed and left. not turning around to look at him once. the anger inside you boiling up.

it’s been a month since you left and the both of you guys missed each other more than anything. you wanted to go back and see him, but you knew things would be the same if you went back. so you held your ground and decided you would never go back to him again.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader #akatsuki #akatsuki imagines #akatsuki x reader #sasori x reader #deidara x reader #obito x reader #kakuzu x reader #hidan x reader

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batfamspews · 3 years

Text

Red Robin and Jason have been battling each other in an abandoned building for the past fifteen minutes and the fight ended with Jason victorious and Tim flat on his back on the ground. Both of them are bleeding and have several internal wounds.

Jason: *going to jump out of a nearby window* It’s been fun, replacement! Though I have to admit, I think you’re getting a little rusty. You used to be so strategic, but now you’re just pure chaos. I like the change but it makes you pretty easy to beat. Probably should start thinking things through again.

Tim: *deadpan, unflinching, staring at the ceiling*

Jason: *Confused because just a couple of seconds ago Tim was bustling with squirrel-like energy* Hey man, you good?

Tim: Yeah man just rethinking my life.

Jason: Ah. *goes to jump out the window but then hesitates and looks back at Tim. Not a single muscle in his body has flinched. Jason figures he had better stick around and keep an eye on him since he’s pretty sure he heard bones breaking during their fight and he wants to make sure he didn’t paralyze or give Tim brain damage.* You wanna talk about it? *goes and sits down next to Tim*

Tim: Eh, life sucks, you know? Fight all night, work all day, study. I’m supposed to be the smart one, right? What if I can’t keep up? What if I crack and lose it? What if someone smarter comes along? Besides, I can’t help but feel like I’m just ticking every one off.

Jason: *surprised but slightly amused that his straight-rod, genius brother would have such a poor opinion of himself* Heeeey, come on, little Red! You don’t suck that much! I mean, I do get sick and tired of your virtuous crap every once and a while, hence me beating you to a bloody pulp right now, but you’ve got a good head and heart! What’s making you feel so down?

Tim: …

Tim: Tried to make supper the other night. Alfred got food poisoning. He’s still in the hospital.

Jason: So you’re guilty?

Tim: *smiles* Yes but that’s just a part of it. I’m in charge of making my own food now, but since I’m scared that I’ll poison myself I’ve only been drinking a concoction I made up a while ago that I know won’t kill me.

Jason: Yeah? What?

Tim: Iced coffee made with Red Bull instead of water.

Jason: …

Jason: ……. .. . …

Jason: That sounds disgusting

Tim: It absolutely is.

Jason: How long has this been going on?

Tim: About a week?

Jason: ??? And that’s all you’ve had?

Tim: I mean, I ate some Nachos last night and I have an emergency stash of pop tarts in my room that I finished off the first two days.

Jason: ???????

Jason: AND YOU DONT EAT OUT WHY???

Tim: *shrugs* The Red Bull iced coffee gives me energy. Kinda sucks though because I crash when it wares off and have another identity crisis. I should really get some more before the tremors.

Jason: CHRIST TIMOTHY I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SMART???

Tim: You know, there’s a line between intelligence and wisdom- oh crap here they come. Totally jinxed myself.

*Jason stares in disbelief as Tim’s whole body starts shaking. He start to say something but Tim- doubled over in pain- holds up a hand to make him wait. The tremors stop after a few seconds.*

Tim: I should probably grab some more coffee or something before that happens again. You wouldn’t happen to have an energy drink on you, wouldja? I’d get some myself, but I’m pretty sure you broke something in my leg and it hurts to move it.

Jason: For the love of God, Tim, you need professional help. Call Bruce to come pick you up???

Tim: I don’t really feel like talking to Bruce right now. I don’t want to get lectured again.

Jason: …

Jason: Fair enough, but I’m not leaving you here like this. I may not be an exceptional brother or anything but I’m pretty sure it would be considered child abuse if I let you torture yourself this way.

Tim: *laughs* you just broke my bones and beat me into submission.

Jason: you were being annoying.

Tim: And besides, Bruce doesn’t stop me.

Jason: IF YOU THINK FOR ONE SECOND THAT IM GOING TO LET YOU PUT ME ON THE SAME LEVEL AS THAT MAN THEN YOU ARE DEAD WRONG. *Basically picks Tim up*

Tim: ??? Where are we going?

Jason: TO MY APARTMENT SO YOU CAN GET THE PROFESSIONAL CARE THAT YOU REALLY NEED.

Tim: Bruce is gonna be ticked. I’ve still got another hour on patrol.

Jason: IF YOU THINK FOR A SINGLE GOSHDANG MOMENT THAT IM GOING TO LET YOU STAY OUT HERE WITH A BROKEN BONE AND CAFFEINE-INDUCED SEIZURES THEN YOU ARE DEAD WRONG!

Tim: I don’t wanna tell him that-

Jason: GOOD BECAUSE I DO. HOLY COW, TIM, ARE THE OTHERS AS BAD OFF AS YOU ARE?

Tim: I mean? Dick’s been out of town so I’m gonna assume he’s doing fine. The Kents have invited Damian’s vegan butt into their household until Alfred recovers. Pretty sure Babs, Steph and Cass are surviving on hot pockets and chicken nuggets.

Jason: NOT MY GOOD GOOD GIRLS! That’s it, you’re coming home with me and are not leaving until you are fully recovered. I’m gonna call the girls too. Tonight you four are going to have a round, home cooked meal. *carries him down the stairs* Geez, kid, you’re skin and bones. On no accounts should you be this light. And you look like a zombie! Is this just the malnutrition, or are you not sleeping either?

Tim: I mean, I’ve passed out a couple of times…

Jason: TIMOTHY DRAKE WAINE

Tim: The caffeine made sleeping virtually impossible, though now that it’s wearing off I do feel a bit drowsy…

Jason: Normally I would not give an idiot like you the permission to rest while I’m helping them out but for the love of everything that is holy, Timothy, go to sleep!

Tim: Dope. *immediately passes out*

Jason brings Tim to his apartment and puts him on the couch. Jason already has a nutritious vegetable and beef stir fry ready for the girls when they arrive. He’s also made broth that Cass spoon-feeds Tim when he wakes up shaking. They’ve all turned off their coms, so when Batman desperately calls Red-Hood’s home phone for help, Jason tells him what a horrible father he’s been lately and that even a problem child like himself would make a better parent. Cass, Steph and Babs leave after supper, but have agreed with Jason to eat lunch and supper at his place until Alfred got back. Jason called Nightwing up, told him the situation and asked him to come back to Gotham to deal with Bruce. The next morning Jason brought Tim to the hospital to get an X-ray done on his leg. When they found out it was fractured, Jason arranged for a very exhausted but thankful Tim to stay at his apartment until it healed, even when Alfred recovered. During that period he was able to break Tim’s eating habits and introduce him to healthier options. According to Jason, “I might be a ‘danger to society’ and a ‘homicidal maniac,’ but at least I can make a half decent home cooked meal for my poor starving siblings!”

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wingsofkpop · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh.

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again…

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole?

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…”

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart.

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t.

“I wish you were here, noona…”

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum.

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?”

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.”

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven.

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh.

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.”

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?”

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.”

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.”

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting.

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips.

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze.

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom.

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place:

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?”

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything.

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.”

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?”

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain.

This subject, however, has been a brick wall.

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—”

“(Y/N)?”

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face.

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch.

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger:

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.”

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop.

“Did you need something?”

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—”

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue:

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…”

“Then you met Jackson.”

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.”

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring.

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?”

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…”

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…”

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—”

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care.

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?”

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at his apology.

“I’m sorry too… for everything.”

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.”

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders.

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?”

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.”

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.”

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.”

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.”

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly…

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.”

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way.

“(Y/N)—”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.”

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…”

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey.

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill?

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.”

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips.

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—”

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.”

“Help is on the way—”

“How do you know that for sure?”

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows.

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.”

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison.

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment.

He needs to have hope, if nothing else.

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?”

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.”

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?”

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head.

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?”

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.”

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see:

Im Jaebeom.

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk.

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.”

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?”

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.”

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.”

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff:

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.”

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?”

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.”

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest.

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return.

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?”

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet.

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?”

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.”

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—”

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities.

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...”

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing.

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.”

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!”

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!”

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!”

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.”

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!”

“Every war has its casualties.”

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?”

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!”

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?”

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer…

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward.

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.”

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder:

“Not yet, hyung.”

“But Jinyoung—”

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.”

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party:

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.”

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.”

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?”

Jaebeom’s face darkens.

“...So there is a cure?”

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.”

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.”

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world.

“You know she doesn’t have much time—”

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead.

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.”

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far.

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!”

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn.

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch.

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph:

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.”

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something…

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.”

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?”

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave.

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why.

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?”

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.”

“He never told me that.”

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.”

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—”

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.”

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further.

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway.

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight.

“Everything okay…?”

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.”

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—”

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress.

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh:

Die.

“Shit—we need to go. Now.”

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.”

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation.

“What is it?”

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?”

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal.

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!”

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight.

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.”

“Watch your ears.” You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire.

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise.

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand.

“Mark—”

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand.

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat. You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!”

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—”

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!”

“I understand you—”

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!”

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.”

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality:

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two.

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable.

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…”

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears.

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.”

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!”

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.”

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?”

You nod.

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…”

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!”

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…”

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing.

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Changbin…”

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…”

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.”

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head.

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.”

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.”

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer.

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…”

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.”

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question.

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?”

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…”

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.”

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.”

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—”

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!”

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…”

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.”

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—”

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...”

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips:

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else.

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse:

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand.

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—”

“Tzuyu…?”

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips.

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?”

“It seems so.”

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one.

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?”

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.”

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…”

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart.

“Everything is taken care of, right?”

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear.

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…”

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.”

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.”

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.”

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.”

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation:

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues.

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!”

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears.

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!”

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out.

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?”

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!”

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...”

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts:

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!”

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground.

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground.

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!”

“(Y/N)! Don’t!”

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white.

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms.

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!”

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips:

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out.

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so.

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?”

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.”

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.”

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent.

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?”

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest.

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.”

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that…

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human.

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.”

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.”

“Then let me be selfish with you.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.”

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Text

I’ve Got You ~ Mitch Rapp

Mitch marched into the room - masculinity shrouding every inch of his toned body. Unknowingly to him her attention immediately switched to his presence as soon as he entered. Her eyes lingered and mismerised his entire body - from his chocolate orbs to his flexed bicep - awe and arousal oozed off of her.

If she wasn't in the midst of her own conversation believe me she would be drooling a river over him. "So, (y/n), I would like you to train with someone else - perhaps one of the higher tiers. I don't think that it is working out between you and I. I think you need more of a challenge." Her trainer, Daniel, informed wearing a friendly childlike smile.

Since she started this training program at her gym the employees there which also happen to be all men underestimated her abilities and strength. So because of their ignorance and blatant misogyny they paired her with the - said in the nicest way possible - weakest dude in the whole place. Don't get me wrong Daniel is a good guy and is now a great friend to (y/n) but they clearly aren't the best pair due to the clear superiority of (y/n).

"Yeah... yeah sure who?" She muttered kind of dreading the fact that she would have to leave the only friend she made in this place for probably a disgusting sexist pig. "Ugh well I have no clue who it is but you're meeting him in..." Daniel paused checking his watch, "right now." He smiled sweepingly but the nerves in (y/n) just stared to settle in and a hurricane of anxiety bombarded her. She had never been good with new people let alone people that already see her as a inferior.

"What?! I-I can't do it now. I should have time to prepare -you know like about two weeks and I'll be ready." She informed hopefully but was met with the familiar sound of Daniels chuckle. "Oh c'mon you'll be okay. You need to get out of your comfort zone anyways then maybe you'll get up enough courage to ask out walking muscle man." She shook her head ferociously before breaking out into a burst of laughter at the nickname 'walking muscle man.'

"Excuse me what the hell is a walking muscle man?" (Y/n) chuckled into the palm of her hand while Daniel gave her an amused look. "You know who I am mean (y/n)." He insisted but she shook her head. Daniel leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Mitch." Her face immediately darkened at the mention of him.

How did Daniel know about my obsession? Is it that obvious? Who else knows? Does everyone know? These thoughts swam around her head like fishes in a tank. Her cheeks were basically inflamed and the nervous tick she had adapted from her childhood of tapping her foot has returned.

"W-what are you talking about?" She whispers back fear evident in her question. "Oh don't act dumb I know you like him. It's pretty obvious." She groaned. "It is?"

"So you admit him?" Daniel clapped back causing (y/n) to fall into a deeper pit of embarrassment. "Oh god." She said burying her head into her hands. "Oh yes." Daniel smiled content with the fact he finally got it out of her.

Daniel had caught on to the fact whenever Mitch ever entered a room her attention was drawn to him regardless of what she is doing at the time - which includes them being in the middle of a boxing match which happened many times and believe him never ends well. He also caught on to the many times she attempted to go up to him and introduce herself but quickly ran away before he noticed.

"Is it really that obvious?" She complained. "Not to anyone but me. You see sweetheart I know you very well indeed and I know for a fact that you cannot take your eyes off of him." Daniel paused looking around the room. "And from the looks of it neither can he." (Y/n)'s head shot up at his comment and furrowed her eyebrows.

"W-what?" Daniel laughed at her like he had been doing for the entirety of their conversation. To say the least it seemed that he was enjoying this little matching making session a little to much for (y/n)'s liking. "Don't look now but a certain Mitchy moo is looking right at you." He said nodding over to where Mitch was stood.

(Y/n) didn't hesitate to shoot her head over to where he pointed and as soon as she did she was met with Mitchs familiar pair of dreamy eyes. As soon as (y/n)'s gaze hit his his head instantly pulled down avoiding her at all cost. "And you looked anyway." Daniel sang. "Shut up." She replied sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oi (y/l/n) aren't you supposed to be training right now?!" Someone bellowed from the other end of the room. "Shit." The (y/h/c) girl collected all of her stuff recklessly and ran off to where she usually had her training sessions but obviously now she wouldn't be so kindly blessed with his presence but now instead she is going to have to do the worst thing imaginable- socialise.

She entered her little room of the gym and placed her stuff down ordering it as best as she can. "Finally I didn't think you'd show up." A deep almost intimidating voice acknowledged her. Usually she wouldn't be so panicked just by one voice but now it panicked her beyond belief knowing who that voice belonged to. Mitch. "I-oh right oh s-sorry was caught with...-"

"With chatting with your boyfriend?" Mitch interrupted coldly while strapping the straps in his boxing gloves. "W-what? Boyfriend? Never!" She spluttered still not facing Mitchs way scared of what kind of shade of red her face had formed this time. "You know very well who I am talking about (y/l/n). I went out there and saw the two of you so don't act dumb. It's not a good look on you or at least I would say that if I could actually see your face but alas it seems that you have lost the ability to face someone other than the guy your fucking." He spat causing (y/n)'s jaw to drop and her eyes slightly water at the tone of his voice - which may I add reminded her of the trauma she came her to overcome.

"T-the guy I'm fucking? I don't understand M-Mitch." She heard Mitch let out a heavy stressful sigh which she guessed was probably accompanied with an eye roll or two. "God you can't be serious." He laughed humourlessly as if it was obvious who he was talking about.

(Y/n) stayed silent waiting for him to actually form a sentence that didn't ask for more questions than answers. "Daniel." He muttered causing (y/n) to spin around a little to fast causing her to begin to fall down. The girl closed her eyes preparing for the hard impact of the ground but instead was embraced by a pair of toned arms.

"I've got you." He whispered as she opened her (y/e/c) eyes. "I'm not dating, fucking or even thinking about Daniel in that way. I never have and certainly never will. He's just a friend." She reassured him despite not understanding why it mattered so much to him that he need some reassurance.

The words brought a small curve to his plump lips as he held the (y/b/t) girl softly. "Why do you care, Mitch?" (Y/n) finally said breaking the silence that had formed between the pair. "B-because I think I like you." She smiled at him disregarding the feeling that this might be a trick or some sort of weirdly realistic dream and she started to lean in. As their lips inched closer and closer she could tell Mitch was become more anxious by the second.

Just when their lips were about to join Mitch let go. (Y/n) fell back first onto the flooring and surprisingly Mitch accidentally fell too - on top of her. "What the actual fuck, Mitch?" She snapped feeling as if the dream that she was about to experience was completely ripped away. (Y/n) pushed Mitch off of her and sat up waiting for some sort of explanation.

"I-I'm s-sorry." Mitch said not even making a move of getting up but instead completely giving up and just laid there - heart broken. "I thought you said you liked me." The now sat upright girl spoke timidly the tears building up rapidly. "I do." The broken man admitted. "Then why did you let go?"

"I'm scared." (Y/n) was shocked with his confession clearly not expecting the great Mitch Rapp to admit when he's scared of something but now the question is - what? "Scared of what Mitch? Of me?" She asked fear dripping from every syllable.

"Yes! No! Maybe! Kinda! I don't know (y/n). I don't know anything except that I like you and I'm scared." Mitch bursted his hands subconsciously running through his dark hair. (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed in on me hoping for a better explanation than what he had shown so far.

"I-i lost someone. Someone really important to me- someone I loved. A-and now I have to figure out a way to understand how to get by without her. Looking at what am I now compared to three months back I'm better, yes, but not fixed. And with you despite not even having a conversation I feel at peace and sometimes when I just watch you train or eat lunch or anything I sometimes forget about that person. And that makes me hate myself. Then when I almost kissed you that made the hate I have inside overflow." Mitch paused looking over at the teary eyed girl.

"I-it just feels like I'm falling. Like I'm falling from the tallest building I've ever seen and no matter how long I fall for I never hit the ground and you have no idea how much I wanna hit the ground. But I also know if I do hit the ground then I'll lose myself and all the steps I have taken to change from that broken person I was. I want to hit the ground because I want to stop falling but maybe instead of meeting the ground maybe I need someone to catch me. I know I need someone to catch me. So I'm scared hell im petrified b-because I think that person might be you." Mitch concluded his voice cracking at different points and his eyes wouldn't dare to look at her anymore not after the amount of over sharing he just did.

He closed his eyes ready to attempt to settle his thoughts thinking that maybe (y/n) had just left due to the shock bomb he had just dropped on her until a pair of soft perfect lips landed on his. He immediately kissed back grabbing the sides of her face deepening the kiss of that was possible. (Y/n) pulled away causing him to reluctantly open his eyes to see her red and puffy ones.

"I've got you."

#mitch rapp x y/n #mitch rapp angst #mitch rapp imagine #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien #angst

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP. But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster. Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr. See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story. When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”. If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is. The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events. I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus. Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip.

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile. No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering. Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services. The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day. Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial. She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor. I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down... aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye? Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here. Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting. What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly. Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.” At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal. Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever. If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass. He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent. Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped. “Wee Jamie? Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew. I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny. Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday. I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance. She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston. Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie. I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself. As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class? My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche. Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck. My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning. I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left. A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips. Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy. She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp. Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?” At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day. I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body. He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch. I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures. “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe. Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation. Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others. I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time. The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan. I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast. First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands. To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind. My pie crust! Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan. Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class. We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke. With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water. A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls. I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision. She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking. It looked like a magazine cover. Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better. She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness. Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion. Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated. She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair. “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty. They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended. I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment. Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire. After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama. Will ye be joining us next week? We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk. “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook. It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity. “Tis an art. Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is. But in that case, I may as well give up now. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly. Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree. Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting. He knew about Frank. He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake! Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft. Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement. Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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kaepop-trash · 3 years

Note

IM SHOOK? SHAKEN? CHANGED??:&:9 PUSH AND PULL IS SO GOOD??:&:@; AAAA. I LOVE YOUR WORK.. LITERALLY OBSESSED ... i was wondering if it had a part 2 BUT THE CLIFF HANGER .. GOD INSANITY.. UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER AAAAA

There was a time when I had considered writing another part for it, but truly there was just one scene I really wanted to write. When I saw this, I felt compelled to write it. Consider it an apology for the cliff hanger I left the fic on. Not that this is any better.

I was intrigued by this dynamic when I wrote this fic and I continue to be even now. So consider this more self-gratification than anything else. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it.

Tw: unhealthy relationship dynamic, hints of obsession and violence if you squint.

This was strange. She was allowed to think that. The restaurant was a good one, she was dressed as well as she always was.

Kim Doyoung was in a white shirt and dark jeans. His eyes were focused on the menu in his hand, brows stitch together in concentration. The other hand ran through his hair, an honest effort to push it out of his face. But it was long and fell over his eyes just as soon as he let it go, the only difference being a few strands that stuck up.

She looked down at her fingers, nails now cleaned of the blood from his scalp. He had very soft hair too, she could remember the feel of it against her palm. She could remember the other parts too.

"Have you decided what you want?" His voice made her look up. He was watching her with careful calculation, the gaze of a panther assessing his prey. He was a fool to think she wasn't herself a predator.

"Sure." She slapped the menu close, the sound sudden and loud.

He just nodded, "Okay." His eyes coloured with amusement. She clenched her fist tight, impatient and irritated. "Are you usually this quiet?" He sat back in his seat.

"I speak when I want to, Mr. Kim." Her voice was curt.

He gave her a heinous smirk, "I had my tongue in your cunt, (Y/N). You can call me Doyoung." He reached for his glass of water.

His words made her shift in her chair. Her body reacting against her will was what made the last thread of courtesy snap.

"Other people have done more than that. Physical intimacy isn't grounds for familiarity, not with me." She settled back into her chair. When his jaw flexed, she smiled. At least now they were both annoyed.

"What is grounds for familiarity with you?" His voice was sharper, gaze narrower.

"Why do you care, Mr. Kim?" She snapped. "I'm not interested in being familiar with you."

"Why not?" He furrowed his brows.

"I'm not interested in being familiar with anyone." It was the first honest thing she'd spoken in a while.

"Scared?" He looked intrigued.

"Indifferent." Her frown twisted further.

He hummed, considering her words. "I could make a compelling case."

"It would be a wasted effort. I'm sure you'll find someone more suited to your demands elsewhere." She reached for her glass of water, confused and displeased by the way this was going.

Yet a part of her clawed with intrigue, wanting to know why he was seemingly undeterred. It stopped her from walking out the door, "Can we order?" She questioned. He gave her an unbothered smile, nodding in answer. She wanted to pry open his skull if it told her what he was thinking.

"I don't understand why you're being so persistent. I'm not trying to be coy, I'm not interested in anything beyond sex." She told him once the waiter left with their orders.

"We can have sex." He said it like it was a consolation prize, one he only considered in hindsight.

She crossed her arms over her chest, "What do you want, Doyoung?"

He licked his lips, eyes grazing the skin over the low neckline of her dress. "I started a painting the night I first met you. I haven't painted anything in three years." His eyes glazed over at that, clearly not present at the table anymore. "The second time I met you, the image became clearer, I could picture the colours of it." His eyes focused again, honing in on her. Her stomach flipped. "Last night I thought of a different painting I will paint after this." He gave her a look of conviction, "I must get to know you better." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not keen on being used." She brushed it off.

"Being somebody's muse is a privilege, (Y/N)." His tone flares with offense, "It's being immortalised in memory. I want to capture you in between my brushes and commit you to canvas. I want to make you art." He frowned at her, confused by the rejection.

"Privilege?" She laughed, the sound light and melodious. "It sounds to me like I'm the one doing you a favour. It's your privilege, Mr. Kim." She laughed a little more.

"I don't care what you think." His words didn't match the look on his face, "I haven't had inspiration in years. I'm losing my touch. If I don't create, I cease to be." Anger seeped into his eyes, burning bright red.

She sat back in her chair, "What do I get in return?" She couldn't believe that she was actually considering it.

"What do you want, (Y/N)? Other than an artist's devotion."

She scoffed at his words, "Let me display your art. Anywhere, anytime. If you want to use me, I want to be the only person who gets to use your paintings." She saw the gears grinding in his head at her words.

While it would be a good deal to have, a part of her was sure he'd never agree to it. She knew his reputation. Kim Doyoung did not like sharing what was his.

"Fine." It was his lack of hesitation that caught her off-guard. “But I have a single condition instead. It’s not up for argument.”

She nodded, the possibility of having the exclusive right to display the art of one of the most coveted artists alive worth anything he could demand. He smiled like he was aware of that.

“I want you to myself. No other people.” His eyes bore into her, his gaze the most intense thing about his presence. She clenched her fist so tight that her nails dug into the skin, her palm stinging.

She wanted to slap him.

The demand was a clear sign of control over her. She knew artists, knew the extent of their obsessions. She also knew they tended to fade fast.

“Alright, Doyoung.” She bit her lip. “Have your way with me.” Despite herself, she felt her chest stir at her own words.

He flicked the light on, the large empty space illuminated with harsh white light. She looked around, the studio mostly empty save for a single canvas that rested against the wall. The smell of paint thinner in the air told her that he had been at it recently. Doyoung stood by the door as she walked towards the piece, the click of her heels echoing in the space.

The canvas was a messy blend of colours: red, orange and white. In the centre of ot sat the outline of a couch. “This is what you made?” She questioned, the perceptive eye of someone acquainted with art observing every detail.

“Don’t like it?” He spoke from across the room.

She focused on the blend of colours; despite the bold mix of red and orange, it was the white strokes that felt aggressive. “It’s confusing.” She shifted her weight between her feet.

She heard his footsteps approach her, “Have you ever felt rage, (Y/N)? Blinding rage that you cannot control? Only channel?” His words bounced off the walls.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve your rage.” Her voice was softer.

“You seduced me, (Y/N).” His footsteps stopped short of her heel. “You were using every dirty trick one could do it. And you were so blatant about it.” He groaned.

Her lips tugged, “I’m known to go after what I like in the moment.” She swallowed.

“You’re shameless.” He spat the word like an insult. She clenched her jaw, “And it makes me furious that I can’t stop thinking about you.” There was a crack in his calm voice, it made her breath falter for a second.

“You aren’t the first." She scoffed, "You don’t have to be hard on yourself, I know what I’m doing. Your reaction is to be expected.” She tried to keep her voice level, not giving him the priviledge of seeing her own rage. Rage was an admittance of effect and she would not let him see his effect on her.

She gasped when his finger brushed up her thigh. “You don’t know anything about me." He mumbled, still maintaining the last few inches of distance. "I don’t play games, I don’t collect conquests.”

She laughed, her head falling back. He took a step closer, pushing her head to the side to brush his lips over her neck. “I know people, Doyoung. I especially know men. You want to believe you’re complex,” He bit down on the smooth skin, she moaned. “But lust is never complicated. It’s deceptively simple. You’re currently playing a game with me, one you want to win. You just don’t know it, which is your loss because you don’t have a prize in mind.” He licked the skin he just ruined, purring into her throat. He bit down the same place again, harder. She whimpered.

“I know my prize.” His nose brushed up her jaw, his breath heating her skin.

“I’m not a trophy to be acquired.” She took a step back, pressing into his chest.

Doyoung sighed, hand reaching around and tugging on her waist, “Who said I was talking about you?”

She clenched her jaw. “What is it you hope to win then?” His hand brushed up and grabbed her jaw, tilting her head back further.

“Let me show you.” His lips brushed against her cheeks. He gathered her dress in his hands, hitching it higher. “Lift your arms.” He whispered. When she did, he pulled the material off.

His fingers made quick work of the rest of her garments. Once she was completely bare, he turned her around. His smile was deceptively gentle, “Do you enjoy being a whore, (Y/N)?” He took a step back, looking her over with detached scrutiny.

“Very much so.” She stepped out of her underwear. When he looked up with a sharp gaze, it was her turn to give him a sweet smile.

“Will you enjoy being my whore?” He brushed his index finger on his lips. Soft, pretty lips that she made a note to destroy.

“That is to be seen.” She breathed out.

He smiled wide, pointing behind him. “Sit on that sheet.”

She gave him a skeptical look. When he added no further explanation, she did what she was told. She walked up to the large white cloth that lay flat on the floor, ready for whatever he had planned. She bent over, deliberately slow, and took her heels off. Walking over to the centre of the sheet and sitting down, bringing her knees up to her chest. She sat patiently.

“Such a pretty picture you make.” He hummed, walking over to a table littered with paint and brushes. He picked up a few bottles, coming up to stand in front of her. Her heart beat so fast with anticipation that she was certain it was echoing against the walls.

He kneeled in front of her, “Give me your palms.” His eyes stayed on her face, his voice still dispassionate. She lifted her hands and laid them out for him. When he looked down at them, she glanced at his features. Without his dark gaze, his face looked almost delicate. She felt thick liquid on her palm, looking down to see him squeeze blue and green paint on each palm.

He looked up when he finished, “Lust isn’t simple. It’s like being on fire one second and being drowned the next. Put your hands behind you and lean back.” She took in an unsteady breath, sitting back.

The paint squished between her palm when she pressed them on the sheet, coming out from between her fingers. He sat back, unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes didn’t leave hers the entire time.

“Which one of us will drown?” She breathed out, words mixed with soft pants.

He unbuckled his belt, smirking when she squeezed her legs. “That is to be seen.” He repeated her own words back, grabbing her knees to open her legs again. He stood up, pushing his jeans off. Once he did, he squeezed the green paint onto his knees. Her breathing was ragged now, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with the admittance of her eagerness.

He walked around to her back, leaning down. “Sit up.” His voice was lower, and to her victorious realisation, afflicted. When she did, his knees pressed into the small of her back, paint rubbing against her skin. She couldn’t explain why, but the rudimentary action made her moan. He brushed her hair up, tying it up on her head with a tie she didn’t know he had. Everything felt meticulously planned.

He squeezed more paint onto her spine, rubbing it around with precise fingers. He remained unnervingly silent, getting up and coming back around to face her again. “You’re so beautiful.” He gasped.

The words made her smirk, chest heaving with quick breaths. “I know.”

He smirked back, “I’m going to make you divine.” He put his knees on the sheet, the blue and green rubbing together. She stared at the traces, for a moment mesmerised by the mark it left.

She yelped when he grabbed her ankle and tugged her, her wet palms slipping. Her back landed on the sheet, her head stinging a little from the sudden contact. He parted her legs with his knee, she looked up to see him squeeze white paint into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, before using them to hover over her. “You’re going to display the very manifestation of your lust in museums all over the world, (Y/N). We’re going to commodify your sin. That’s my prize.” His hands slid across the sheet and grabbed her waist.

She reached up and grabbed his throat, the smooth white skin tainted blue and green. “It’s going to be our sin, Doyoung.” She dragged her eyes from his eyes to his lips.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want familiarity.” His hands rubbed white paint up her sides, brushing under her breasts. Both their breathing matched in impatience.

She pulled him closer, resting her lips on his. “If you’re going to immortalise me, I will own you.” She promised. He smiled against her lips, kissing her.

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Push and Pull

#doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung scenarios #doyoung drabble #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct drabble #miscellaneous #push and pull #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 smut

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Opia Night 2

Vampire!Shinsou x reader

Warnings: alcohol mentions, mentions of blood, dumb mc, campy vampire bullshit, swearing

A/N: ahhhhh. okay. so. this was a tough write. I think I got stuck because i started taking myself too seriously and then i just started throwing words out left and right. this is very back and forth, no-goal-reached, bullshit. I mean, getting from point A to point B is r o u g h, bro. Im SO SORRY. I was trying to make this natural and it just AINT. she’s messy today and it’s fine. Gotta just post what we can when we can lmfao. SOO! I’m aware that this chapter isn’t good, but I do hope that you find it entertaining regardless! I promise Night 3 will be better!

(PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION)

Night One

Night Two

You woke up to your phone buzzing next to your head on your pillow. Once, twice, and the third double-vibration made you realize that you were not going to be going back to sleep any time soon. Blinking at your window, you groaned at the flecks of dust that were lit up by the golden remnants of twilight. You’d slept most of your Friday away after slaving away on your school work Monday through Thursday. You tried telling yourself that you deserved the rest, but sleeping through sunlight has become habitual to you when you had nothing else going on. When you woke up from your coma, you would usually sleep some more. Usually.

The phone on your bed was alight with three unread messages, all saying something different, but with the same invitation handed out:

Kirishima(7:02): hey :)

Sero(7:07): you busy?

Kaminari(7:15): babe! partaaay tonite!!!! come over!

Again, you groaned.

The last night you’d spent over at their house was a complete disaster. You totally embarrassed yourself by screaming out of nowhere. Or so it seemed to have come out of nowhere to everyone else who heard you; what you thought you had witnessed went completely unnoticed to everyone at the last party. But to you, it was so vivid.

Purple-haired-couch-kid. Fangs. Blood.

You completely freaked and locked yourself in the bathroom. It took both Kirishima and Sero to coax you out after you battled the idea of calling the cops to their house. When you came out, there was a swarm of kids eyeing you like you were crazy. You asked to see Kodai. She appeared. She was unharmed: no blood, no marks, no recollection of any handsome boy who took a bite out of her wrist. Kamianri’s garage-sale couch had been occupied by no extremely handsome man, and there were no purple-haired people to be seen at the party afterwards.

It wasn’t something you could have imagined unless your drink had been spiked, but you thought you were pretty careful when it came to open containers! And besides, who’d want to spike your drink with hallucinogens. Getting you high could have been a prank or someone thinking they were doing the rest of the party-goers a favor, but to what you could tell, nobody else was seeing shit. So maybe you were crazy. Maybe there was no alluring voice speaking to you in your head, and your psyche had suddenly broken out of the damn blue. In the psychology class you took freshman year, you learned a lot about different mental illnesses that cause hallucinations and paranoia. Maybe you had to get yourself checked out.

Your phone buzzed again.

Kaminari: Kiri is gonna be real bummed if you don’t come :”(

Well, that was on him. You couldn’t really imagine why you would receive such a welcome invitation to another one of their parties after the big fuss you made. After you realized Kodai wasn’t in trouble, you stormed home; you lived close enough, so it was fine to leave your car there. You didn’t speak to anyone about what happened afterwards, so you were sure you’d be snubbed by your friends for at least a little bit. You figured that… if they wanted something else from you, maybe the rule of party fouls would be ignored.

You sighed, knowing that even though Kirishima definitely had a crush on you, he was still your friend and a great guy. You couldn’t think bitterly of him just because he might’ve wanted to kiss you on several occasions when you were just hanging out. You did sleep with him once, back in the day, but you both agreed to just be friends afterward. You were… kinda wild back then and didn’t like the idea of having a boyfriend. Kirishima tried to be understanding, but every now and then, you’d see him look at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.

There was a bleep! and you saw that you got a Snapchat notification from Sero. You pursed your lips and opened it to see a video of Kaminari singing your name, pushing Kirishima’s shoulder, and a chorus of several people making gross kissing noises at the two of them. You rolled your eyes and were about to close the video, but something—no, someone—in the background caught your eye.

You replayed the snap. There was singing, gross kissing noises, and him—right at the end of the video. He was only there for the last two seconds of the video, but those mesmerizing indigo eyes leering at the phone camera seemed to grab you by the throat.

You didn’t fucking imagine him. You didn’t fucking imagine him.

Sliding the screen to show the front-facing camera, you grimaced at your face. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and snapped a quick photo with the tag, ‘who is all there rn?’

Kaminari’s reply came instantly. It was another video of people hooting in the kitchen taking shots. Sero was sniffing at a rough-looking pineapple and Kaminari was yelling.

“Who is all here right now?!” Kaminari called and cheers came as a response. Kaminari turned the camera to face his grinning self. Kirishima was in the background checking his hair in the mirror. When he saw that the camera was in him, he flexed his arm, the dork. Then, Kamimari threw his arm around somebody, and pulled him into frame. You actually gasped.

“Why, the whole word is here, babe! Come overrrr!” Kaminari sang at you, but you weren’t paying any attention to him. Purple-haired-couch-kid was side-eyeing your drunken friend, but when he looked into the camera, he appeared to be amused. He wasn’t as dressed up as he was two weeks ago; he just had on a plane black T-shirt with the same ropey necklaces. The camera didn’t do his likeness any justice. The shadows under his eyes seemed to be much darker, and his skin was straight-up pale. Still, his gorgeous lavender eyes had you captivated. He was all you could see.

Purple-haired-guy’s ivory arm wrapped around Kaminari’s shoulder. He grinned, the whites of his teeth gleaming dangerously at the camera, squeezed Kaminari against him, and the video ended. You were too enamored to even thinking of taking a screenshot and you couldn’t replay the snap.

You cursed and covered your eyes with your pillow. You really were planning on sleeping the rest of the night away—maybe put on some cheesy soaps you could snicker at before zonking out. But now, it seemed, you didn’t have any choice but to go to the party. You had to see him.

A shower and a quick trip to the liquor store later and you were showing up to your friends’ rented domain with a six pack in hand. You entered without knocking. They never had the door locked; it was a constant open-invitation to ‘Denki’s Dank Crib’ as Kaminari wished people would call it.

You were immediately slapped in the face with human musk and you were glad to be wearing something more light: a white, chiffon top over your sunflower skirt with yellow, scrappy heels. It wasn’t everyday that you wanted to dress nicely, but as ridiculous as the concept was, if you did see the purple-haired-couch-kid… you wanted to look nice.

“Hey, you! Glad you could make it!” Strong arms pulled you into Kirishima’s hard chest. He smelled like sweat and old spice. He held you for two seconds too long, going so far as to rest his nose on the top of your head, before you pulled away, offering him a friendly smile. “Your conditioner smells nice!”

“Hah… thanks.” You grimaced.

“Oh, I’m sorry! That was really creepy! I’m sorry!” A slow blush bloomed on Kirishima’s cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be weird. I might’ve had a few drinks already and I just… uh…”

Lending him a saving grace, you lifted the six pack up. “Care for another?”

“D’aww, you didn’t have to grab beer!” Kirishima grabbed the six pack from you. “I do love this stuff though! Thank you!”

“I couldn’t come here empty handed. It’s the least that I can do after what happened last time.” You started walking towards the kitchen, keeping an eye out for the purple guy or Kaminari.

“What happened last time?”

“You know,” you said while Kirishima cracked open a bottle, “when I had a freak out?”

“Freak out?” He offered you the bottle, but you shook your head. “What do you mean?”

You scanned the kitchen and saw only a few kids you didn’t know and Sero messing around with some frothy, yellow liquid in a beat-up blender. Looking to your right, you saw that there was nobody occupying Kaminari’s old loveseat. It wasn’t like you were expecting to see him there with what—Kaminari on his lap?—but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Like when I screamed and locked myself in the bathroom,” you said. “Then I left without saying goodbye.”

Kirishima’s brows crinkled. “I don’t remember you screaming or anything like that. You did leave a little suddenly, and I was bummed for like a minute, but that’s yesterday’s news. You’re here tonight!”

“Kiri, I was standing right next to you when I threw a fit. You don’t remember? You got me out of the bathroom.”

Kirishima shook his head. “Are you sure that was me?”

You were positive. You were definitely leaning on him, talking about how you didn’t need any boys, and Kirishima was warm like he always was when you touched him. You turned to look back at the couch and then you saw that purple guy bite Yui Kodai! Everyone heard you!

“You’re here!”

Sero zoomed towards you with two large cups of something in-hand. He gave you a bright smile and offered you one of the cups. “As soon as I heard you were heading over, I started making these! Piña coladas!”

“Oh…” you took the drink and gazed into the glass. It was yellow and mushy. Thinking back on your original theory—being drugged—you gave him a tight, closed-mouth grin. “What’s in it?”

“Uhh… Pineapple, coconut rum, and ice?” Seeing the unsure look on your face, Sero hastily added, “the pineapple was close to expiring, but I tasted it, and it’s still fine! Promise.”

“Did you even blend it right?” Kirishima asked, peering into your cup. “It looks like it’s breathing.”

“It’s not my fault our blender is janky!” Sero shot back. “I’m not the one who’s always making weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with, like, kale and shit added in every morning like some sort of psychopath.”

“It’s not crazy to be looking after my body. In fact, you could learn something from me!” Kirishima poked Sero in the ribs. “Skinny.”

“I’m not skinny,” Sero argued, flinching away. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his tight, well-kept abdomen. “I’m lean.” Sero smirked when he caught you staring.

“Alright, well, our girl only deserves the best service, and this ain’t it, chief.” Kirishima reaches to take the atrocity out of your hand, but seeing Sero’s dejected face, you pulled away.

“This is fine,” you promised warily. Beside yourself, you took a sip of Sero’s sloshy creation. You got a big chunk of pineapple in your mouth and chewed the rum out. The parts that weren’t chunks were all watery, like you were drinking straight rum. You forced yourself to smile. “It… tastes good at least.”

Sero was ecstatic. “Lovin’ your look, by the way. Yellow heels look good on you.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and placed a hand on your back. “C’mon, you don’t have to be nice to him. Lemme make you something good in the kitchen.”

“Oh, wait, Sero. I wanted to apologize to you too!”

Sero raised a brow. “Apologize?”

“Yeah...” You turned your head from Sero to Kirishima, hoping for any sign of recognition. “For freaking out. Screaming. Locking myself in the bathroom. All those good things.”

“Oh,” Sero said. “Yeah, well, you’re forgiven.”

“So you remember!” You beamed.

Sero’s hand went to the back of his neck. “To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about the last party. I think Denki broke a table—“

“You helped him break the table,” Kirishima interjected.

“—aaand someone stole my good bong? That’s it. I’m sorry you had a bad time, though. Hopefully you’ll have more fun tonight! Kaminari bought a karaoke set. It’s got all the shitty songs they’re playing on the radio right now.”

“Where is Denki,” you asked, looking around. Damn it, if nobody remembered you screaming, at least you could count on Kaminari possibly getting the name of the kid who he had his arms around in that video he sent you.

“Off somewhere being a dumbass.” Sero waved his hand absently at the crowd of kids in the living room. “You wanna smoke? I just got a new bong and it hits pretty smoothly. Or maybe you wanna try karaoke? Though you would probably wanna get a couple drinks in before that, huh?”

“Ah, maybe later. I just gotta find Denki.”

“Why?” Kirishima asked suspiciously.

“I just gotta ask him something…” you pulled out your phone and dialed his number. It rang three times before getting to his raunchy voicemail. You scoffed.

“He could be up in his room,” Kirishima suggested.

“With a chick?” Asked Sero, amused. You made a face and Sero quickly corrected himself, saying, “I mean… with a nice lady?”

“Who’s to say.” You took a sip of Sero’s special beverage. It was gross, but you were here, and probably getting a little annoyed. You came out, so you might as well try to enjoy yourself.

“I’m sure he’ll come down eventually. If he really is with a girl, he’ll be down soon, and he’ll be hungry,” said Kirishima. “Hey, I’m gonna be ordering a pizza. Any topping preference? I was gonna get a few and wanted to make sure—oh, hey!! Bakugou!”

Your eyes followed Kirishima’s to see some grouchy-looking blonde kid coming in from the front door. You took advantage of both Sero and Kirishima greeting the guy with high-fives and fist-bumps, and made your way into the dining room where kids were playing a drinking game on a broken table.

You chatted a bit with a few kids you hadn’t met before, a girl whose name you forgot from the biology class you took last semester, and some guy who was so drunk you couldn’t comprehend a single mumble that rolled off his tongue. Nobody seemed to know where Kaminari was. Nobody seemed to have seen any boy with purple hair and an angelic face...

You scooted past three boys who were playing some stupid slapping game and into the living room. You sat down on the couch and checked in on your phone messages. It’s been two hours since Kaminari last texted you to come over. You thought about shooting him a text now, but—

‘Do you realize that all of the air in the room goes out when you walk in?’

You choked on air, as embarrassing as that was, and looked up, expecting to see someone who spoke to you. Nobody was paying you any mind for Kaminari's shitty couch, but you knew you heard that titillating voice, and it wasn’t because you were crazy.

‘Such a pretty little thing to be left all alone at a party. Did you lose your fan club?’

“Actually, I chose to sit here by myself,” you said aloud, minding the few people who actually turned to see you talking to yourself. You shrunk back into the couch and pretended to be taking a video of yourself.

‘Well, I’m sure. It’s a comfortable couch, afterall—better when shared.’

Oh, so this voice was a dirty, little thot. You clicked your tongue and texted Kaminari. ‘Hey, I’m here. Where are you?’

Kaminari(11:02): side yard.

Hopping up, you headed for the sliding patio door.

‘Eager to see your babe, babe?’

“Oh, shut up!” You hissed while walking outside and a girl watching a beer pong game frowned at you. You weren’t sure, you thought that you could hear a chuckle in the very far back-end of your head.

Kaminari was in the side yard, thank god. He was leaning against the house, staring absently at the side gate. He was alone, not on his phone or anything to keep him busy. He was just standing there.

“Hey, Kami!”

Kaminari barely turned his head towards you when he said, “hey...”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing hiding away in the side yard?”

“‘m just chillin’. Waitin’ for my friend…”

“A friend?” You asked. “Kaminari, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Kaminari said, still staring at the side gate. “I’ve never been better… it’s a nice night…”

You stepped out in front of him. Kaminari didn’t meet your gaze; his yellow eyes were hazy and blank. You waved your hand in front of his face and he didn’t even react.

“Kami…”

“It’s a real nice night,” he repeated dreamily. “I‘m waiting for a friend...”

“What friend, Kami? Who are you waiting for?”

“Uhh… Dunno. He just left…”

“What does he look like?” You asked, growing impatient. Kaminari wasn’t the brightest, but he was never really this slow. There was something wrong with him.

“Hmmm… like the moon…”

“Denki.”

“...”

“I saw you near a kid with purple hair and a lot of jewelry in some of the snaps you sent, Kaminari. Do you know where I might be able to find him? He was at the last party too.”

“Yeah... That’s my friend…”

Thank god, thank god someone else knew who the hell you were talking about. “Do you know where he went?”

“To get a snack…” At that, Kaminari cracked a grin.

Fangs and blood flashed in your mind. You clenched your teeth together. If you remembered correctly, perhaps purple-haired-couch-kid’s idea of a snack wasn’t suitable for this party. You grabbed his wrist. “C’mon, let's go back inside. You need some water.”

But when you turned back to your house, you bumped right into what felt like a brick wall. But it wasn’t a brick wall. This barrier was a person whose ivory skin practically glowed an eerie white under the moonlight. This barrier was a person whose indigo eyes scanned you like a marauder finding his treasure. This barrier was a person whose flushed lips tugged up into a smirk when you shrieked.

Your stomach sank when he laughed at you after you leapt back and against Kaminari’s chest. Kaminari placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, as if he was trying to be reassuring, but his touch was too light and vacant to do much to calm you.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin when you took in couch-kid’s sudden appearance. You were mad at yourself for thinking that even though he was frightening in the dark, his sharp jawline was practically begging to be nibbled on.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with you?! You couldn’t be thinking about hooking up with strangers that bite while Denki was high and everyone else was forgetting shit! You shook your head and scowled.

“Sorry about that… didn’t mean to scare you.” Your heart did a little jump at hearing his voice for the first time. At least, you were pretty sure this was the first time you’d heard it. It did sound oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

Couch-kid held out his hand. For a second, you thought he was going to shake your hand, but then you saw that he was holding a wrapped cereal bar. Froot Loops. “Here you go, Denki.”

Kaminari’s arm snaked through the opening between your arm and waist to grab the treat. Your body nearly vibrated from being only just a couple inches away from Couch-kid’s finger tips. His arms were nice—white and long, but strong, with a few prominent veins running up them. Did he drink weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with kale and shit added in them like Kirishima? Why did you care?

“Oh man, thanks Shinsou. I was starting to get dizzy,” Kaminari said, unwrapping the sweet treat. You heard him crunching from behind you, and you don’t know why, but you were suddenly very irritated with his presence. You shouldn’t have been. There was obviously something going on with him and you should’ve been wanting to help him out, but then, you really wanted to be alone with Couch-kid. The thought just made you more agitated.

“Not a problem,” Couch-kid—Shinsou—purred. He didn’t look at Kaminari when he spoke; he was eyeing you.

“Shinsou,” you said, pulling at the hem of your skirt. Did he remember you? Did he think you were dumb for staring at him without saying anything for so long back at the last party?

“That’s me.” Shinsou grinned. This time, he took your hand, rather than offering his, and kissed the back of your wrist. You honestly would have swooned if you didn’t see him do the exact same thing to Yui Kodai just a short while ago. Still, his cool lips making contact with your skin made tiny electric currents shoot up from your arm, to your neck. You shuddered. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The, uh… pleasure’s all mine?” That was what they said in the movies, right? Cheesy soaps, whomst? What a weird thing to say, anyways. Even still, as silly as that old-time greeting was, he could’ve easily said something as ridiculous as, ‘charmed, I’m sure,’ and you still wouldn’t have been able to muster out a bark of laughter like you would with literally anywhere else.

“Denki, didn’t you say you wanted to go sing some karaoke?” Shinsou asked, his eyes still on you.

“I did say that,” Kaminari said, taking another bite out of his cereal bar. “Karaoke sounds nice…” And without any ceremony, he started walking. Sliding past you, he made his way down the side of the house. Just like that?! He was going to leave you with a stranger?

You called, “wait! Kaminari... are you really okay? You were acting a little funky just a minute ago.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m fine. I just really wanted cereal.” Kaminari wiggled the now empty bar wrapper in the air. “But Shinsou took very good care of me…” That faraway look returned to his eyes when he said, “I’ll catch you later, babe.” With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with a guy who simultaneously made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your heart melt with a quirk of his brow.

Shinsou’s eyes scanned over you, up from where your hand was bunched up in your skirt, to your torso, your collar bones, your lips, then back down to your neck. Unease settled over you when his eyes finally met yours and you had to quickly look away. You wished that you were anywhere else in the world. You also wished you could think of something, anything, to say to him, but asking about Kodai seemed to be so wrong to you, at the moment, and the last time either of you had interacted, you were about to hop into his lap!

Finally, you mustered, “do you know if he smoked anything? He really wasn’t acting like his usual self. I’m worried something might be wrong…”

“Not to my knowledge. He might’ve had a couple drinks though,” Shinsou said. There was another long pause, and you fought your brain to come up up a normal conversational topic, but Shinsou beat you to to the punch. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“What? No!” You still couldn’t look him in the eye as you answered. You hoped that it was dark enough to be able to hide your flushing face. “He’s really just a friend.”

“He calls you ‘babe’, though.”

“Yeah, well, if you put a skirt on, I’m sure he’d call you babe too.” You shrugged. “He’s just a flirt.”

“You weren’t wearing a skirt at that last party,” Shinsou mused, which gave you a little rush. He remembered you. “And he still called you babe.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, but your humor rang out in your voice when you asked, “are you interested in him or something? Because I can go get him back for you, if you want. I’m pretty sure he dated a guy our sophomore year.”

Shinsou clicked his tongue, amused. “It’s not him I’m interested in. Not really my type.”

“Right, right,” you laughed, gaining more confidence. “Well, I haven’t seen Kodai here tonight, but I think I have her number saved. Would you like me to give her a ring? It’s the least I can do for you taking care of my poor, dumb not-boyfriend while I was away.”

You reached inside your purse to grab your phone. You really would have called her, but before you could even touch your phone, Shinsou’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist. You almost yelped. Shinsou’s fingers were much cooler than his lips were and it surprised you.

“I knew you were jealous,” he remarked darkly. Immediately, you yanked your arm free, but that only prompted him to grab your wrist from a newer angle. You narrowed in on him, ready to bite—he was someone you didn’t know grabbing you, so obviously you had every right to—but as soon as you gazed into his eyes, you were lost.

His pupils were abyssal; so dark that they appeared white. Looking at him, your body felt cool—numb almost. Beyond any control, your body relaxed which made you lose your tight grip of Sero’s shitty piña colada. You didn’t even care about the cold, sloshy mess splattering over your heels.

Shinsou backed you into the wall, his stare intense, his lips parted and amused. He planted his free hand on your arm and took his time running it up to your shoulder, your neck. The tips of his fingers lightly danced across your jugular, the pad of his thumb slowly running up and down the pulsing vein. He scrutinized you dangerously, daring you to move, to run, to scream for help. Not knowing whether you were scared or aroused, you let him touch you, though ‘let’ didn’t seem like the appropriate word. It was like you had no other choice. He wanted to study you, so he would, and you would not object. So naturally, when Shinsou slid his hand to the nape of your neck, you turned to grant him access to what you knew what he really wanted.

He first pressed his nose up against your skin and inhaled deeply. You shivered as he groaned, “I’ve been waiting for you for too damn long. My sanguine.”

When Shinsou’s lips pressed against your flesh, you melted. Every nerve-ending in your body set aflame; you were no closer to fleeing the scene than you were indulging in the sweet sensation that his kiss had to offer. His cool tongue traveled up your neck, sending waves of jubilant shivers down your spine. His fingers hooked around your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. You felt a tingling sensation warming up between your legs that was only a tiny bit eased when he lodged his knee between you. His hand slid down your back where he pulled you on to him more comfortably; held up by his thigh, his arm, and nothing more.

“Nhhh-“ you tried to object, like you should, like you knew you wanted to, but a carnal urge pulled at the strings of your willpower. Whether he kissed you, or killed you, you wouldn’t be able to deny him his satisfaction. You would give him, Shinsou, a stranger, anything he wanted at any given moment.

But when you heard your name called from inside, the spell was broken.

You tensed. Shinsou’s lips froze against your skin. You felt his hands tighten around you protectively, possessively, and you knew you were in deep shit.

“Kiri,” you whispered despite wanting nothing more than to say another man’s name. Kirishima was looking for you and yet, here you were, in his side yard, with another boy. Perhaps you hadn’t changed as much as you originally thought you had.

“Don’t-!” Shinsou hissed when you tried to pull away. There was urgency in his voice, something unexpected from him. His eyes were desperate and hungry. Terrifying. It felt good knowing that he wanted to keep you, and that thought was more frightening than what you thought was his original intentions. Fingers slid their way to your waist, and Shinsou bowed his head, dipping in to kiss your lips, but before he could, your hand fell on his face.

It wasn’t a slap, no. You literally put your entire ass palm on his face to save yourself from a kiss you actually wanted.

“O-oh god!” You stuttered out. Beyond any responsible control, you shoved his head back. “I’m sorry!”

Finally freed, you bolted a good five feet away from him, back towards the house. Your assaulter gazed at you with surprise, sleepy eyes rounded in a sort of sincere, pitiful way, but you couldn’t let his dejection get to you. You swallowed harshly as you backed away from him and the wall, going against every fiber in your body telling you to stay put, to stay at his side, to let him satiate any and all needs that he had.

The thing is, you would have. Despite not being able to bark out the half-dozen questions you had for him (why do you bite people? Why can’t anybody remember you? Why do I think I can hear your voice in my head? Why the sudden smooches? What the fuck?) you would have stayed with him there, had you not heard your name called a second time.

“Leaving so soon?” Shinsou asked, gaining some composure, though as lax as he tried to make himself seem, there was an imperative note in his tone. “Don’t want to let your fan club down, I guess.” His voice was a shrug. “And here I thought you were going around asking about me.”

That was so excruciatingly embarrassing; being caught showing interest. Did he know how many people you spoke to? You wished you could wither up and blow away right then and there.

You glanced through the glass door to see Kirishima holding his phone up to your ear. A second later, your phone started buzzing. You ignored it.

“I guess I just wanted to know who you were, is all,” you said, a perfectly normal response. That was you: calm, cool, and collected—totally not willing to makeout with extremely hot strangers out of nowhere. “I haven’t seen you around before that last party…” which would be a perfectly fine segue into asking him why he bit Yui Kodai, if only you could will your body to ask!

“So you’re satisfied?”

“Uh-huh!” Not at all. Not at all. But that didn’t stop you from turning back towards the house.

‘Liar.’

Your body went cold. The voice rang too clearly to have been said aloud, but it was definitely his. In. Your. Head.

“What did you say?” You asked, turning back, trying to keep your tone steady. You didn’t know why, but you thought it would be bad if he heard your voice crack or squeak.

“I asked if you were satisfied. We barely got to converse and yet, you’re skittering away after making such a fuss about finding me. Why is that?”

“I’m not skittering away and—hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “You called me a liar just now, didn’t you?”

Shinsou placed his hands in his hips, mocking you. “I said no such thing!”

“Well, no, maybe you didn’t say it with your mouth…”

“What else would I have said it with? My hips?” He smirked. “Are you sure it wasn’t your own conscience calling you out?”

You scoffed. You couldn’t believe he was teasing you!” And what about your conscience?! Do you just go around attacking people’s necks out of nowhere like that as a hobby?!”

“Interesting choice of words,” he chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t say attacking people is a hobby, but more of a necessity. And I don’t usually go for the neck, either. I save that intimacy for victims who are a little more willing…”

‘Really, I wouldn’t want a single drop of you to run down your arms, anyways.’

“Willing?!” You started, incredulous. You pointed a shaking finger at him and continued with, “you really have a thing or two to learn about cons-!”

“Hey!” Kirishima was sliding the door to patio open. “I was looking for you! The pizza’s almost gone, but I saved you a couple slices.” He looked at you and registered the expression on your face. His eyes narrowed as he approached you. “Who are you talking to?”

But when Kirishima looked down the side yard, there was nobody there—just the slushy remains of your piña colada. He bent down to pick the cup up to see you shaken, wordless. “What happened?”

You could only shake your head. Because you didn’t know what happened—you didn’t know anything! Shinsou was there and now he wasn’t, and the more you tried to say anything on the matter, the more the words got stuck at the back of your throat.

“Hey,” Kirishima said, full of concern. He grabbed both of your trembling hands and wound his fingers through yours. That was intimate. Something sweet. Something that was supposed to be reassuring. What in the hell was supposed to be intimate about a guy you barely met narrowing in on your neck like that.

You sighed and allowed your head to fall against Kirishima’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close while that angry blonde kid, Bakugou, appeared at the doorway, munching on a slice of pizza (probably the last one.) He took one look at you, rolled his eyes, and walked away. Kirishima asked you what happened once more. You said, “I’d just really like to get home.”

“Let me walk with you,” Kirishima whispered. That would be pulling him away from his own party, but he didn’t seem to care about that. The world really needed more Kirishimas.

“Okay.”

Making your way through the house, you saw Kaminari in the living room slurring the lyrics to a lame song, Sero cheering him on while simultaneously recording every word, and Bakugou glaring out the front window. Kirishima quickly told Sero where the two of you were headed which made Sero form a tight line with his mouth. After seeing the stricken expression on your face, Sero seemed to ease up a bit.

Kirishima held your hand while he walked with you. He tried to make light conversation, attempting to get your mind off of whatever happened when you were alone in his side yard, but you couldn’t entertain him with idle chit chat. The entire walk home, you thought you felt somebody’s watchful gaze on you.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (CLOSED): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #vampire!hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #vampire bnha #vampire au #bnha au #vampire x reader #opia

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titsuya · 3 years

Note

congrats on 1k, my love \(//∇//)\ m so proud of ya <333 rin would be too ;)) id like to participate in ur event pls!!

m hoshi and id like a matchup w an hq boy <3! im 18, use she/they pronouns, and tbh i dont understand all the zodiac sun, rising, etc,,, but im a sagittarius and and infp-t. im a touchy person methinks; i love hugs and just any affectionate action (ie headpats, cuddles, etc). i also enjoy quality time but im such a homebody even before the lockdown oops </3 so sometimes i dont like goin out and rather stay at home (though ill inevitably get bored). however, if i do go out, i love amusement parks and open spaces to do anything (like picnics, walk dogs, etc). im a PHAT introvert but m an ambivert when im w my friends. i tend to put other people first before my own and am usually available if people need to talk/need an ear to listen. but, when it comes to myself, i brush it off bc i dont wanna burden them </3 i also have trouble telling people what i rlly want and tend to be easily influenced by their choices instead JUST so i dont have to make a decision.

im also uh,, 5’1 so i often get teased bc of how relatively small i am. my vball coach thought that i should play libero instead of a spiker when i still had school bc at least liberos didnt need d height 🤕🤕🤕. but ya if it’s flirting teasing abt using me as an arm rest or smthn,, maybe idm 😳😳 ANYWAY i like dancing, drawing, playing sum instruments, dilfs/milfs, large clothing, bracelets, and my dog <3 i also like watching anime and reading occasionally when i get motivated to. my favorite color atm are any warm tones (BROWN RN) and ive been recently listening to ricky montgomery and chase atlantic PFF my music taste is all over the place. also u can use my name for the drabble if ur still g to write,, for me 🫂

HOSHI !! hi, thank you my babyyy <3 ty for joining my event 🥺 i hope u like ur matchup & chase atlantic is just… yes

I MATCH YOU WITH

AKAASHI KEIJI

okay,,, you guys were meant to be together, no joke. you compliment each other so well and push each other to be your best selves. he’ll listen to you (even if he has to force it out of you), and you do the same for him <3 (you guys are also both astrologically compatible)

YOUR TROPE: strangers to lovers

I THINK THE WAY YOU GUYS WILL HAVE MET WOULD BE SO CUTE. i hc akaashi is also a homebody so the one time he’s out, he bumps into you at a park and he’s so flustered because, duh you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. usually, he wouldn’t do it, but he took a step out of his comfort zone and ask you to join him on his walk :) and you think he’s pretty too— i mean look at him, so how could you refuse.

YOUR SONG: softly by clairo <3

very much my picnic playlist vibes. you guys have soft energy and i feel like you radiate energy that screams soft indie or mitski LOL ?? does this make sense ? i feel like you guys, as a couple, would take candid film camera pictures & paint in the park whenever you get bored and that gives off clairo energy (bye i sound like im on crack)

moodboard !!!

DRABBLE (ur one of my baby moots i <3 u i hope u like it!)

you had a book in your hands, unable to concentrate on the words because you were staring at your boyfriend.

“baby,” he mutters, softly, feeling your eyes on him. looking up from his book, his speculations were right, “stop staring at me,”

you give him teasing smile and put the book down, “what? is it a crime to stare at my very pretty boyfriend now?” you question, jokingly.

“no, but you know what is a crime?” he asks, pushing his glasses further onto his face, a smile forming on his own lips. you hum and wait for his response. “how short you are.” he chuckles.

you giggle, taking the book and smacking him multiple times, jokingly, “i hate you so much,” you say in between hits.

he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pulling you towards him, placing a soft kiss on your lips. you both smile into the kiss, happily.

“and i love you very much, hoshi.”

#— sar’s 1k event >.< !#— luvhoshi #— mooooties 🐄#HI BBY I HOPE U LIKE THIS AND IF YOU DONT PLES TELL ME BENEHEB #I <3 U SM #ALSO THANK U SM FOR PARTICIPATING

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samanthadalton · 4 years

Note

Hi, it's me again ina fan🤭 what do you think about mc trying on ina's glasses and pretending to be her/teacher in front of the mirror? And then the situation turned to funny/steamy atmosphere? You previous fanfic was amazing 💖💖 thank you ❣️

hi anon im so sorry it took a while to write but i did it hope you enjoy

The imitation game

When Ina called you to come to her office on a saturday afternoon you weren’t expecting her to give you an entire load of papers to grade alongside her. When you knocked on her office door, she looked up at you, her expression exasperated as she sat at her desk with a huge stack of papers and books scattered all over it. She took off her glasses and ran a hand down her face, ‘Bea, I’m glad you’re here’ she gestured at the mess in front her, ‘I know you probably don’t want to spend your afternoon grading papers but I’m practically swimming in these deadlines’ her voice sounding fatigued. It kinda looked like she barely got any sleep the night before and knowing Ina and her work ethic? It isn’t surprising if she didn’t get any sleep at all last night.

You walk into the office and take a seat opposite Ina’s desk with your hand out, ‘give me a red pen and the papers I have to grade’, you know better than to retort with anything smart since Ina looks like she could use a helping hand and you are her TA afterall. Ina passes the papers over to you with a grateful smile and just as your fingers brush together she quickly pulls away and turns her attention to her computer screen, guess she was serious about the whole needing help after all.

……

A couple of hours go by and after marking about a billion papers, you feel your hand is about to fall off because it hurts so much so you decide to stretch your legs and walk around the office. You move behind the desk and check out Ina’s bookshelf but Ina’s attention is fixated on her computer screen that she hasn’t even realised that you’re next to her arm out with a glass of bourbon taken from her secret stash hidden in the globe which you still think is super cool.

‘Ahem, Ina’ you lightly tap her shoulder and she almost jumps out of her seat, startled by your touch. You clutch the glasses in your hands a little tighter and Ina settles back down in her seat, her face flushing slightly red, whether it was from the embarrassment or your sudden touch, you’re unsure.

‘Oh thank you Bea’ she plucks one of the glasses from your hand and takes a huge gulp being heavily sighing and taking her glasses off and putting them on the desk and starts to rub at her eyes.

You frown slightly at Ina, she looks like crap and honestly? The atmosphere in this room is just so downcast and negative, so in that moment you look at Ina’s glasses sitting on the desk and you get an idea to alleviate some of the bad vibes.

While Ina nurses her fatigue with her drink you swipe the glasses off her desk and put them on, ‘holy shit Ina, you’re literally blind’ you hold the lenses of the glasses while exaggeratingly blinking.

Ina looks up at you confused, ‘Bea they’re just reading glasses’

‘Yeah I know but I’ve always wanted to say that to someone’

Ina stares at you for a few seconds before chuckling, ‘you’re really something else Bea’

You look at Ina, mimicking her usual stance with your posture straight and a finger on the edge of the lense of the glasses and reply, ‘you’re really something else Bea’

‘Are you mimicking me Bea?’

‘Are you mimicking me Bea?’ you make sure to enunciate every word in the same way Ina does, while overemphasising your new york accent.

Ina lets out a small laugh, ‘okay funs over let’s get back to work’

‘Oh come on professor’ you lean down so you’re leveled with Ina, ‘aren’t you at least the tiniest bit curious of how I see you?’

Ina raises a eyebrow, you can see the hint of a small smile gracing her features as she contemplates your inquiry before sighing and says ‘indulge me Miss Hughes’

You give a small cheer and move to the opposite side of the desk and begin to imitate the way Ina stands once again, making sure to stand as straight as you can, you raise your chin a little before clapping your hands together, ‘Bea I need you to grade these papers, my publisher is on my ass about these deadlines’. You look over at Ina who looks amused but she doesn’t say anything as she awaits for what you say next.

‘Anthropology isn’t just about research. It’s about our lives’ you squint your eyes a little, deepening your voice and begin walking across the room and back pretending you’re talking to an entire classroom. ‘Anthropology is all about seeing what makes us human, we study human beings and analyse our very existence. Blah blah blah anthro blah blah blah society’

Ina’s practically gleaming as the corners of her eyes are creased almost like she’s holding back a laugh but also because your impression of her is pretty much spot on, ‘So is that how I sound in class, you’re making me sound like some kind of bore.’

You beam at her, ‘pretty much, but in my defense I’m not really focused on the teaching most of the time’

Ina raises an eyebrow bemused, ‘oh? So what do you focus on?’ her tone coming off as extremely playful

‘I only have eyes for you professor’ you batter your eyelashes flirtatiously at her as she gets out of her seat and stands right in front of you. You cup her face and bring her face to yours, kissing her slowly, letting your tongues tangle up together until Ina softly moans and grabs your hips and kisses you passionately. Your tongues move in tandem as her tongue caresses yours, and you stay locked in your embrace for a couple of minutes until Ina pulls away.

‘I never did say how sexy you look in glasses’ she moves her hands to your face and lightly touches the frames of the glasses looking at you admirably and you can’t help but blush.

‘Well I can’t really see myself that clearly but I bet I do’ you take off the glasses and blink profusely and Ina chuckles and moves to kiss you again and you drop her glasses on the floor to reciprocate the kiss.

Ina grabs your hips and starts guiding you towards the desk until a loud crunching sound breaks you out of the kiss. You look down to see Ina’s glasses under your shoe and you gape your mouth wide open while Ina lifts a hand to her mouth trying to hide a laugh.

‘Ina, I-, I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for that’ you bend down to pick up the glasses in which the frames snapped and the glass is slightly cracked.

‘Well I guess we’re done for the day since I need my glasses to read’ your face flushes red with embarrassment but Ina places a sweet chaste kiss on your lips, ‘I’m just joking Bea but if you want you can go home now, I’m sure you want to enjoy the rest of your saturday’

You push Ina against her desk, ‘well I wanna stay here with you’ and you and Ina enjoy the rest of the evening in each other’s embrace.

#playchoices #queen b #ina kingsley #ina x mc

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trashpocket · 3 years

Note

Hey I saw you were asking for writing/art prompts, if you're up for it maybe something for Emil and Lalli? Maybe something cute about them either coming up with their own short form of talking (sign/hand signals whatever) to check in on eachother and ask if eachother is ok? Or maybe theyre both trying to learn how to say something sweet in the others language and they blurt it out at the same time? Feel free to interpret as you wish :D

He never shows it, but the Silent World is anything but silent.

Lalli thought Emil was too loud, and he barely understood a word besides his name, but Emil patiently mimed his words, pretending to cup his hands and pour them over his head, before finally pointing in the direction of the small wooden tub he had already set out, hidden by the side of the tank. Lalli scowled even further, not even amused by Emil’s fumbling, which told Emil that Lalli must be very tired.

Ghosts have been trailing after the tank quietly, as days became shorter and shorter — the distance getting cut, getting sliced so thinly, he could now count the minutes before the sun would set and the moon would finally show its face, waking him to the night’s refuge. He was okay with the evening, and the darkness of early mornings, but more often than not, he was not okay with ghosts who have not moved on from their resting places. He was not okay with the distance between them and the hoard growing shorter. He was not okay with the trolls who came too close from the houses that creaked and groaned when he approached; every shadow behind decrepit walls and large trees. The giants who gurgled and croaked when he ran, drew near, closed his eyes to sense them.

The Silent World was ironically, hardly silent. The grotesque sounds made his skin raise and itch; made him want to curl up and slap his hands over his ears when it became too strong. But he didn’t. Usually, never does.

He comes back in the morning, duty done, every monster and landmark mapped, every face of a troll memorized, every possible route checked. Then, the usual briefing between Sigrun and Tuuri occur, where both of them pester him about the map, scold him for his weird squiggly lines, and wring every last bit of energy out of him till he was just an irritated and tired mess, eyes almost falling shut if he simply blinked. But the noises were too much -- everyone’s voices were too much, too harsh.

This morning was the same.

He shook his head from its hood, hair falling in a curtain around him as he tried to sneakily enter the tank door, wanting to sleep the noise in his head away, only to be interrupted by said door opening in his face. Emil strode out, all smiles and squinted eyes. Lalli scowled. The nerve of the Swede to be so happy this early in the morning.

“Lalli! We still have to decontaminate you!”

Emil froze, and Lalli was ready to hiss out a sigh, before he heard Emil shuffle around him worriedly, cupping his face with frantic panic. “Sorry! Did I get the soap in your eyes?! Don’t tell me I did!”

He knew not to touch Lalli when he was annoyed though, and simply followed after him as he marched to the tub, and they got the decontamination under way. Lalli let his thoughts drift as Emil handled him gently, babbling all the way, thankful that Emil’s Swedish nonsense was lulling his thoughts into peaceful rest. At least -- mornings like this, his babble was enough to sift out the white noise. It was when Emil focused on some particular troll gunk on his hair that he went silent in concentration, and Lalli suddenly noticed that he missed its comforting presence.

He stared into the dark water, made a small sound of distress, needing to drown out the exhaustion and the buzzing of his skin -- the white noise in his head that threatened to come back. The irritation of this morning.

“Lalli?” Emil peered over him, and Lalli opened his eyes, looking up from his knees. Emil frowned, pressed a hand to the side of his face, and tilted his head. “Tired?”

Lalli wasn’t familiar with the word, but he understood the familiar gesture and only grumbled, “Mrrrr,” in ascent.

“Okay, I’ll be quick,” Emil nodded, before scooping up water with a cup in one hand, and letting his other hand hover Lalli’s eyes. Lalli closed them, trusting Emil as warm water dripped down his head, down his shoulders, washing the suds on his back. But his worried babbling didn’t continue and, frustrated, Lalli grabbed Emil’s hand and pressed it against his eyes, hoping he would understand the sign.

Emil was crouching in front of the tub, hands outstretched and cupping Lalli’s face. His fingers ran gently over his eyes to soothe any irritation, pads of his fingers going over lashes, eyelids, the bags beneath his eyes. From the tone of his voice, Emil was apologizing profusely for something but Lalli didn’t quite care. He was talking again, he was taking care of him -- and since Lalli had been forced to run day scouting and raids the other day, too -- he felt like the attention was well deserved on his part. The others had to learn from Emil, Lalli thought, but only Emil knew how to care for him this way. So, never mind. The others could stay useless to Lalli for all he cared.

But Emil paused in his ministrations now, and Lalli opened his eyes.

“Are you okay? Not hurt?” Emil covered one of Lalli’s eyes briefly, before pulling it back, non-verbally asking about them. “Did I get all the soap out?”

Lalli blinked in confusion, narrowing his eyes, and Emil looked ready to throw another fit of panic, before Lalli cracked a small curl of his lip. Amusement.

Emil recognized the mischievous look and gave Lalli a deadpan stare, unimpressed. “Finnish bastard.”

Well, Lalli was quite familiar with those curse words, but Lalli had to show he was okay now.

So, holding Emil’s hand to his face, he closed his eyes, and pressed the palm against his cheek, tilting his head. Like a cat. Emil wasn’t used to this gesture.

He only stared, confused if Lalli really did still have soap in his eyes, before the moment lasted for a bit too long. Then he finally recognized the gesture -- reminding him of Bosse. Emil shook his head with a chuckle, eyes crinkling with his smile. Before he could stop himself, his fingers brushed the hair on Lalli’s temple, then they slid down, tracing the cut of his cheek to cup his jaw.

Lalli opened his eyes. That was new.

Emil asked, “So, you’re fine now?”

Lalli only blinked. Emil sighed. Yeah, they kind of have to work on that one. That was a bit sudden of him.

But then Lalli reached out, hand holding Emil's cheek too.

“Fine now.” New broken Swedish, very short words, but it was enough.

Emil beamed, unfolded the towel that had been draped on his shoulders, and let the Finn step into his arms.

That was when Lalli finally understood that the noise in his head was quiet now, filled with soft babbling, gentle words, and gestures that said much more.

At least these were the mornings he returned to.

_____________________

note: HEAVILY unedited

okay, so lemme tell yall, I’ve been in such a heavy writing rut, and I kept scratching out everything that I’ve been writing for this new idea I got, and i was getting NOWHERE. I decided to practice using this prompt, so THANK YOU peach, for the lovely little prompt (even though it took so long, im sorry sweetie)!!! I wanted to take this several ways, but this was all I could think of! I hope you liked it! Plus, I’m not very good at sign language, or any signs in general, so IM SORRY!!! I’ll make sure to study up on that in the future! i couldn’t do the “learn new words and blurt them out at the same time” cause i wrote this in an hour, the basic Swedish that I know is atrocious, it would make Emil look fluent in Finnish, and I don’t trust myself with google translate. but besides those excuses, lemme know what you think about it!!! This piece had me DEAD

#one shot #emilalli #emil västerström #lalli hotakainen #ssss #just some heavy fluff #schmooping

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

Keep It Sweet In Your Memory

8.1k words and im very proud of this one :’)

He was intrigued with you from the start.

Ever since the day he met you, he knew you were someone special. He had the tendency to follow his gut, and his gut was to keep you in his life. And he would like to follow through with that gut decision.

You were in a simple white top and jean outfit, knowing that it was more of a casual party than a go all out, impress your friends type of thing. Your hair was beautiful as it flowed every time someone opened the front door as the wind gushed through the house and met with you. You had this sense of enthusiasm as he noticed you and walked towards you. He noticed you get excited a lot, and he needed that in his life. Excitement.

When he approached you to introduce himself, he had already caught your eye as he was walking towards you. He had this sense of aura to him that you wanted to be in his presence and you just wanted to talk to him for hours.

To which you did.

Harry followed you as you led the way towards the rooftop of the house that overlooked the skyline of New York. It was a rather chilly night as you and Harry bundled up in soft blankets and sat on pool chairs, looking up at the starlight.

You and Harry talked for hours on end until the sun came up and started to rise, and when the stars started to become less visible.

You learned a lot about Harry as did he. As you sipped on your wine, he told you about his breakup (something he wouldn’t just tell strangers about, but considering he’s a bit tipsy, it was bound to happen) and how he’s been struggling to tell the story.

“How long ago was the breakup?” You asked curiously.

“About a year ago.” You only nod and he has this look on his face, telling you that he wants to say more, and you stay silent, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. “It was hard, y’know? I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this or—maybe you have, but it was hard splitting up. We weren’t talking much, and I was always away. And then when I was home, I noticed that she seemed… happier? We were always arguing on the phone, so I thought that there was no way she would be happy to see me. And for weeks I just observed her and she stayed the same: happy. I was selfish so I hated it. I hated seeing her so happy when things weren’t right between us. I know it sounds horrible, but do you get what I mean? We get petty when things don’t go our way.” You nod, thinking hard of the right things to say.

“I feel like… you have all these pent-up emotions that are just waiting to be released, so you need to let them out and put it in your songs, or else they’re gonna stay inside your mind and that’ll make you go crazy. But once you’ve written it down, it’ll feel so much better, and once you’ve released the album, it’s like you’re letting go of the anger and frustration, and that’s when you know it’s time to move on. You’re letting go of her.” He nods, taking in your words. “So tell me… how’s the writing process going?”

“It’s… going.” Harry sighed, remembering that he actually has responsibilities to do after this.

“Take it it’s not going that well?” He nods. You take a sip from your drink and he sees you thinking hard.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks curiously.

“What are you really struggling on?” You genuinely wonder. You’re not sarcastically asking, you really want to help him.

“It’s just that—you see, my first album was great, I loved it. Of course I do—I had to. But I can definitely see where I was holding back. I mean, it was my first album as a solo artist, I was bound to hold back. So on my new album, I just want to say what I want without having to be too forward. Do you get what I mean? Like I feel like I can’t say many things without thinking about how the fans or everyone around me will react to the words.” You nod, thinking about your words carefully; not wanting to give a songwriter advice that would possibly hurt them in the long run.

“You say you want to write what you want?” Harry nods. “Then do it!” You say enthusiastically.

“It’s not as easy as you think, love.” He chuckles.

“What do you really want to write about? Your breakup, right? Then do it. Tell your story. Write about what you want to write about. Don’t worry about everyone around you, that’s just gonna push you back even more if you think about it. So write it. The love, heartbreak, the sex.” Harry stiffens and clears his throat. “Ahh, it’s the sex, isn’t it? That’s what you’re afraid of?” You smirk as you feel accomplished like you’ve cracked the code.

“I wouldn’t say afraid of in general, just don’t know a way around my words when it comes to it. On my first album, the most vulgar I got was talking about wanking all by myself.” He laughs and you find that amusing.

“You’re a songwriter—a damn good one too. Talk about sex in the way you want to. I know you can do it beautifully too. Try not to overthink it too much; have fun with it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He accepts.

“I know I’m right! And besides, sex is everything. It can be anything you want. It deserves to be written, especially in songs because it’s beautiful. Sex is a melody. Now write the melody.”

Sex is a melody.

That four word phrase has been stuck to him ever since. That morning he went back home and wrote until the sun was fully up and it was noon. He wrote about the melodies he feels through his body, how it makes him feel, how much he wants it, how he daydreams about it, and how melodies have been the only way of opening up.

It was like the final pieces to his project. The perfect pieces that fit perfectly together and he finally feels accomplished with it. Who knew a talk with a woman he met only hours before would inspire him to conquer forward and tell him to write what he wants.

Harry wanted to thank you for pushing him and encouraging him to simply write whatever it is that he wants. He was so intrigued by how confident and encouraging you are. You just owned confidence, and he wanted to know more than a night out on a rooftop.

He knew you had mutual friends, so it was inevitable that he would see you again. He just had to go to every party, gathering, and hangout he was ever invited to.

After a few disappointments of not seeing you, Harry would stick out this dinner with his friends and finally ask about you. The least they can do is say how you’re doing or maybe—just maybe, give him your number. But either one is appreciated.

Harry sat as he talked to his friends, eating bread, and sipping on wine, to which he almost choked on because he saw you walking towards the table.

“Hi, everyone. Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh no worries! We haven’t ordered yet.” You take a seat at the end of the table, which is directly across from Harry as he’s on the other end. You give him a closed mouth smile, trying to contain your excitement from seeing him, and Harry covers his mouth from bursting out of squeals because he feels so relieved that he’s finally seeing you again.

The dinner went by slower as you and Harry steal and catch glances at one another. You’ve had to quickly turn away because of how much you blushed and how flustered you got.

The whole table went on and talked about work, vacation spots, and how the group should take a holiday within the next month. And luckily, the night was coming to an end as the group stood outside the restaurant, hugging and bidding each other goodbye as some headed to the bar.

You and Harry finally stood in front of each other, smiling at one another before the three who were going to the bar called out for you. You turn around and see them standing from a distance.

“Hey! You coming?”

“Uh, no, no. I’m headed home, got work in the morning.” They nod.

“Harry?”

“Maybe next time, I’ll take her home.” They say their goodbyes one more time before turning back around and walking their own way. You turn to look at Harry again to find him already looking and smiling at you.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi, you.”

“Shall I take you home?” He stands right next to you, putting his arm out for you to take, and you giggle.

“You shall.” You reply, looping your arm under his as you both walked to his car.

“How are you, love?”

“I’m good, just been working. How are you? Did you finish your songs?”

“I have, I have. I just wanted to say thank you, by the way.” You look up at him. “After I spoke with you on the rooftop, I realized you were right—sex is something that should be written.” He repeats what you said that night. “So I went home and finished the final pieces, and they’re done.” You gasp out of excitement.

“Harry! That’s so great, I’m so happy for you.” You hug his arm as a way of congratulating him. His car comes into view, and he opens the passenger door for you, which you thank him and slide in. Harry comes around, catching your gaze and smiling, and gets in himself.

“Now I just gotta get in the studio, record, put the instrumental piece together, and then it’ll be all finished to put out.”

“That’s amazing. It’s gonna be wicked, I just know it!” Your smile hasn’t gone down, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful smile ever. He shyly says ‘thank you’ and opens the music app on his phone.

“Do the honors and pick a song?” He hands you his phone that is connected to the Bluetooth of his car. You grab his phone, immediately putting it to the first song you thought of, and one of the “songs of your life.”

The song starts as it begins with shimmers and chimes. Harry smiles as he recognizes the song and looks over at you. You’re already swaying your body in the small seat. You catch his stare and smile at him as the first verse starts and you start singing to him.

“...You know I’m proud and I can't get the words out.” Harry admires you at the stop light and he thinks

“Tango in the Night, huh?”

You nod and sing out, “Ohhh.”

“I want to be with you everywhere.” You wink at Harry as you move your shoulders up and down. He blushes, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“Ohhh.” Harry finally joins in and your smile grows ten times bigger.

“I want to be with you everywhere.” You both sing together as it seems like you’re driving along a highway in the middle of the night with the sunroof open, and the moon shining through, the light hitting your faces in the most magical way. It always felt like that with him: adventurous, excitement, careless. Although only meeting once, his presence seemed to make you feel loved.

The song came to an end as you played it twice more, and Harry had pulled up to the curb in front of your house. Your smiles have come to a disappointing and sad one as you realize the night was coming to an end. You turn your head towards Harry to already find him looking at you. You both just admire each other, not wanting to waste a minute looking at anything else. And you realized that you didn’t want the night to end; that you wanted to spend more time with him.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, hoping that he feels the same way in wanting to hangout more.

“I’d love to.” He smiles and you’re both out of the car.

Your place is a small home with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a living space and kitchen, and a small backyard. The house has a Spanish vibe to it and he applauds you for how well decorated it is.

“It’s small, but make yourself at home.”

“It’s very homey and cozy. Love the decorations and furniture.” He compliments.

“Thank you. One of my cousins owns a furniture store and saved me some of their best pieces.” Harry nods. “Anyways, would you like anything to drink?”

“Uh, whatever you’re having is fine.” He says as he sits down on the couch, which is very comfortable and soft.

“Tea it is then..” You smile and walk to the kitchen, putting water into your boiler, which thankfully only takes about a minute or two to heat up. You walked back to the living space and placed the two mugs on the coffee table in front of the couch. Harry smiles and mutters a ‘thanks.’

“So tell me.” Harry’s eyebrows raise and you lean back on the couch, facing him. “How long did it take you to write those missing pieces to the song after you spoke to me?”

“Hmm, a few hours actually. I didn’t sleep until I finished them and they were all complete, but talking to you really did help.” You smile.

“And do you feel better about the whole breakup? Any lighter?”

“Definitely. I mean I’m over her, but every breakup isn’t easy. So it was hard to put my words together at first, but when I got it and wrote them down, it felt like such a relief because it felt like I was never going to finish it.”

“Well, I’m glad. You should be proud.” Harry smiles and just takes a second to admire you as you blow into the hot water of your tea and take a sip.

“So, now you tell me.” It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows and you set your mug down to turn your full attention to him. “Since you know so much about my love life, tell me all about yours.” Harry subtly asks as a way to know if you’re seeing anyone or even remotely interested in seeing anyone right now.

“I actually got out of a relationship almost a year ago and that went to shit quick.” You chuckle.

“How so?”

“We dated for about a year and then he just decided to call it quits. For what reason? I don’t know till this day, but it broke me. That was my first ever real relationship with someone that I truly loved, after messing around with other people. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I didn’t know if I was good enough or if I had said anything prior to him telling me that he wanted to break up. I don’t know—it was kinda sad. I was a mess for weeks until my best friend slapped some sense into me and told me that I didn’t do anything wrong. But that’s pretty much it. I don’t plan on dating or pursuing someone anytime soon.” Harry’s heart drops as he feels like his chances have gone down with it too.

“Sometimes I think that I want a relationship, but that’s just me being all soft and putty after seeing a couple walking down the street, living their life, and having someone to love, but I think—I know I just need affection right now. I need the physical aspect when it comes to a relationship—I miss it. Do you get what I mean?”

“So…you miss the sex-”

“I miss the sex!” You confirm and look up as if you’re begging for some physical contact. “I loved every part of it. Not only was it for pleasure, but it was a way to bond with your partner. The science, the way it’s performed, and what can come out of it, pun intended, is something so beautiful.” Harry doesn’t say anything and you feel as if you’re coming on a bit too strong. But he feels his heart flutter as he listens to you talk. “Sorry, too forward?” You asked hesitantly.

The exact opposite. Harry has never wanted to kiss someone the way he wants to kiss you right about now. He thinks your openness and confidence is entirely sexy.

“N-No! Not at all. Was just thinking about you.” You blush.

“Oh? And what about me?” You shift closer to where he’s sitting, and Harry suddenly starts to feel nervous.

“J-Just… you’re beautiful.” He says honestly.

“Thank you. You’re beautiful too.” You say as you take a quick glance at his lips and back up at his eyes.

“And… you’re really kind.” His eyes are glued to your lips and there’s no way he’s able to take them off.

“Yeah?” Harry nods. “You’re sweet.” You place your hand on his leg and Harry does the same.

“And… I really wanna kiss you.” His eyes managed to take them off of your lips and meet with your eyes as a way to see if it’s okay to kiss you.

“Then do it.” Harry wastes no time and pulls you in for a kiss. His hands find your face and he holds you in place as your mouth opens and he slips his tongue right in. Your arms wrap around his back, pulling him in. Harry turns and you somehow made your way on top of him and straddle him. Harry lifts the bottom of your shirt slightly and places his hands on the skin of your lower back.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You say as you pull back. You take a second to look at Harry and notice how red and swollen his lips are from your make out session. “Let’s go to the bedroom if you want?” Harry smirks and nods. You get up off of and lead him to your bedroom, and you’re back at it again with his lips.

That night was the first time, since your ex, that you’ve had sex. It’s been about a year and it was everything you wanted. Rushing to take off your clothes and his, the heated kisses, touches that will be there the next day, everything. Harry made you feel so good and vice versa.

And it went on for two months.

A few days after that night, you and Harry decided to hangout again, which led to wandering hands and lingering kisses that needed to be finished. It’s like you had a routine: wake up, eat, work, go to Harry’s or he goes over, fuck, cook or go out to eat, come back and chill out, fuck, and sleep.

Call it friends with benefits, but you didn’t see him as just some casual fling, he was a friend that you thoroughly enjoyed talking to. After your little adventure with each other’s bodies, you two would lie awake and talk about everything and anything. It didn’t seem like you two had run out of things to talk about, and you enjoyed it.

You both were comfortable in each other’s homes like you live there; getting each other some groceries or food or stuff you both think that would look good in the space that needed some love. It was a routine for Harry to buy you bananas every week because you eat one everyday and you always forget to buy some after they’re all gone. And it was a routine for you to buy some sunflowers every week to put in a vase and place it on his kitchen counter to lighten up the big room with some pretty flowers. It was the thing you both did for each other.

But it has been two days since you left to go to your apartment. You told Harry that you needed some time for yourself and he agreed as he needed his own space, so luckily you both were on the same page mentally. As fun as it is to have sleepovers and have sex, you and Harry weren’t so used to spending time with an individual person every single day, so the space is much needed.

But that didn’t stop you two from talking and texting, and since it’s only been two days, he’s surprised to see the message with your name on his phone.

Hey, can I come over?

Miss me already?

Harry smirked and pressed send. He would be lying if he told you that he didn’t miss you either.

I just need to see you.

Okay, come on over.

Harry quickly went to the restroom and brushed his teeth and then went to the kitchen to drink some water.

He quickly put his laundry away and anything else that was laying around to a place somewhere more hidden. And he’s running around his house out of breath because you only live 10 minutes away.

He takes a look around and checks if everything is put away when he hears a knock on the door. He walks over and pulls the door open, and with a big smile on his face, it quickly diminishes as he sees you with tears in your eyes, standing on his front door step like a lost puppy.

“Baby, what happened?” He pulls you in for a hug and you sob into his chest as you both stand outside. Harry caresses your hair and lets out strings of ‘shh’ to soothe you.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to see you, and I bought new sunflowers.” Harry smiles because in your state of distress, you didn’t forget the flowers.

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for. Let’s sit down, yeah?” He looks down at you and you nod. He takes the flowers from your hand, and you and Harry walk over to the couch with his hand never leaving yours, and even when you sit down, he never lets go. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Just a really bad day at work.” You hiccup. “I got told off by a customer, and when I let it go and didn’t argue with her, she kept pushing it and insulting me. Telling me I’m not good enough to work in general. I just don’t understand.” You start sobbing again and you feel Harry’s arm wrapping your shoulders to pull you into his chest.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. You don’t deserve that at all.” He bends down to place a kiss on your forehead and you look up at him, and look around and back at him again.

“Were you expecting someone?” Harry looks at you confused.

“Yeah, you.” He chuckles.

“No, I meant someone else.”

“No?”

“Are you lying?”

“No—why would I lie to you? Why are you asking?”

“Because your place is like… super clean, and you smell like you just brushed your teeth, meaning that you were trying to impress them and get laid.” And Harry thinks it’s absolutely crazy how much you know him because he did that with you the first few times you slept over.

“What-”

“Am I right?”

“No, you’re entirely wrong! I tidied up because of you because I thought we were gonna fuck.” You start laughing. Harry sounds full offended that you would think he would see someone else when he’s having sex with you, and only you.

“H, you didn’t have to do that for me. I’ve already seen your mess and smelled your morning breath. I genuinely thought you were expecting a guest.”

“Nope. Don’t want to see anyone else.” He confesses rather softly without thinking twice, but you still hear him. Harry mentally tells himself off and looks at you for your reaction. You’re looking at him at what seems like a lust kind of look or a confused look, and Harry doesn’t know what to do at this point.

“Well, I should get going. Thanks for comforting me.” You stand up from the couch and grab your bag. Harry is shocked to see you go so quick, so he grabs your arm as he’s still sitting on the couch.

“Of course, but why don’t you stay?” You look down at him, and he’s looking up at you with his pretty green eyes that are begging you to stay.

“I… don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? We don’t have to have sex.” You chuckle, knowing full well that you both can’t keep your hands off each other. Harry stands up and rubs your arm in a way to seduce you to spend the night.

“What about the space we were supposed to give each other?” You raise your eyebrows.

“If we do have sex, we both know we can’t get enough of each other. So what’s the harm in that? And before you say anything, you can always wear my clothes, and I always have a spare toothbrush.” Harry smirks.

“The harm is that I need my space.” You roll your eyes as he pulls you in closer and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“One night and I’ll set you free for the week.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You push him against the bed and crawl on top of him, Harry lets out a moan at the feeling of your body on top of his. You roam your hands down his chest and his arms, slightly using your nails.

After agreeing you would stay, you both ate some leftovers he had and watched a movie--or half of the movie as you two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

“Two days too long.” You say into the kiss and tug on his hair.

“Hey, hey, wait a second.” Harry says as he pulls away from the heated and rushed kiss.

“What?” You try to go back in, but he pulls back, and you pout. He can’t stand seeing you pout so he pecks your lips quickly.

“Let’s talk for a bit.” You give him a look that says ‘are you serious right now?’ Your arms wrap around his neck and give him an ‘okay’ and Harry smiles, pulling your arm gently to sit down next to him.

“What do you want to talk about?” You both sit at the edge of the bed, facing each other.

“I just wanted to ask…” he trailed off, and you urged him to continue. “What exactly are we? Like what is this that we’re doing?”

“Having sex?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“We’re having sex.”

“Like just sex?”

“Just sex—w-why are you even asking?”

“It’s just that…” he pauses again, trying to think his words over. He knows that you don’t want to be in a relationship as of now, but he can’t help but feel his heart drop a little at the thought because of the strong feeling he has for you. Call it infatuation if you will, but by talking to you so much and getting to know you, he can tell the difference between his real feelings and infatuation.

“Harry.” You cut him off from his thoughts. “Let’s just have fun, yeah? Lets stop overthinking things.” Your hand rubs his arm.

“I-yeah, okay.”

“Remember when we first met and we talked for hours on the rooftop?” He nods. “Well, sex is everything. It’s for anything. Sex is huge thing for musicians, like yourself, to explore and to write about it in a different way while coming up with different concepts and sounds.” Harry stays silent, knowing that there’s more to what you’re trying to say. “So let’s make some music shall we?” You say seductively, biting your lip, and clearly hot between your legs.

Harry looks at your lips and back up at your eyes. His head involuntarily starts moving forward as his body takes over his actions. You release your lip from your teeth and smile. You lean forward, meeting him halfway, and crash your lips onto his in such a hungry and passionate way as if your lips have been missing his for a lifetime.

He slowly starts to make his way on top of you, causing you to lay down on his wide king size bed, and you scoot up at the top where the pillows are.

Harry’s kisses make their way to your neck and you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. He kisses the same area multiple times as he gets it ready for him to leave a hickey on your skin. As he sucks, your hands roam through his hair and his back, moaning softly at the feeling of his mark.

“Fuck, need you right now, please.” As sexy as that sounds, Harry can’t help but blush at how polite you are even during sex. With your shirt being off, he takes a good look at you.

“Let me just appreciate you for a moment?” He looks up at you and his hands go down the top of your pants.

“You can appreciate me some other time, just need you inside me right now.” Harry smirks and you try to take his pants off by sliding down, but the waistline is too tight.

Harry unbuttons his pants and pulls it down along with his boxers, releases himself from the restrain. You moan lightly at the sight of him and proceed to take yours off as well as your bra. Harry starts kissing your stomach and makes his way up to your breast, taking each one in his mouth and sucking it. Your hands find your way to his hair, but only tugging it lightly, making sure to save your hair tugs for later.

Harry makes his way to your neck and then to your jaw and finally to your lips in such lust as you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he’s on top of you.

After kissing for a few minutes, you finally reach down between you two and grab a hold of him, pumping his already hard dick up and down, slowly. Harry stops kissing you, but doesn’t release his lips from yours as he groans against you.

You tease yourself, sliding his tip up and down your pussy, which causes you to buck your hips up, craving for the feeling of him being inside you.

“Want me inside you now?” Harry says as he pulls away from your lips and reaches down, replacing your hand with his. He places his tip right at your hole, pushing in slightly, but not fully. “Do you want me inside you?” He repeats and you nod your head quickly. “Words, love.”

“Yes, yes! Please, Harry.” Harry finally fulfills your need and pushes in fully, making you moan out and throw your head back. Harry groans at the wet feeling of your hot core and buries his face in your neck that is exposed from your pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Harry says as he kisses your neck, and you moan his name out, which encouraged him to thrust faster and harder. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer; wanting to feel him closer than he already is.

The room was filled with the slapping of his skin against yours, and the heavy and loud breathing of moans bouncing off the walls, making the most marvelous and pleasing music to add to his melody.

Harry pulls his head from your neck and places his forehead against yours. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, love.” He places a kiss on the tip of your nose as he continues to thrust into you. You blush and peck his lips softly. Harry moves deeper into you and you’re overwhelmed with the pleasure you feel as he found the spot inside you making you scream his name out.

“You make me feel so good.” Harry smirked, hitting your spot every single time he pumps into you. He feels himself getting close, but he needs you to cum first. So he sits on his knees, continues to fuck you, and rubs your clit with his thumb, taking you to your climax.

You let out a long and raspy ‘fuck’ as you feel his finger on your sensitive bud. After a few more minutes of Harry pounding into you, you cum as your legs shake and your face turned to the side and buried into the pillow. But Harry is quick to remove the pillow so he can hear the melodies of your moans loud and clear. Harry follows with his climax soon after causing him to slowly thrust deep into you with pauses in between. His groans are deep and raspy, and you smile at his euphoric state.

Harry pulls out, gets off, and lies next to you, pulling you into his side. You lay your head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around you, rubbing your soft skin. You both look at each other in that post orgasmic glow and smile. No words were spoken as you both just enjoyed each other’s touch and presence, feeling each other’s soft skin, and eventually falling asleep in a glow that radiated the two of you.

Harry woke up to the sound of rustling in the bathroom. With his eyes still closed, he reached over to your side of the bed to find it empty and cold. He groaned and opened his eyes slowly as he heard the water turn on and then off. Once his eyes were fully open, he rubbed it to sustain the blurriness and then he saw you in the simplest form. With a hand on your hip, your hair in a high pony, mouth full of toothpaste, humming as you do so, he’s looking at you like he’s got your face hung up high in a gallery. And he’s taking a moment to appreciate the art that is in front of him.

Harry appreciates the sight of your naturalness, and his heart bursts into joy. The simple action of brushing your teeth makes him smile from ear to ear making his dimples very much prominent.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there just thinking about you, but his thoughts are interrupted when the person he’s been thinking about for the past two months walks out of the restroom.

“Good morning.” You lean onto the bed and give him a kiss. One that is too quick for his liking as you pulled back and stood still. “Breakfast?” He only nods, and you’re off to the kitchen.

As he does his morning routine, he hears the record player going in the back, and he chuckles a bit, knowing how much you love playing music from it every time you’re at his house.

Once he’s done, he walks to the kitchen and hears Don’t Stop by the one and only Fleetwood Mac, coming on louder as he sees you at the stove, cracking some eggs as your hips sway to the beat of the music.

He walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist with his head buried in your neck, kissing the skin and your shoulder. His body is pressed up against yours with no space in between, making you feel warm.

As the song continues to play, you can feel him gently swaying you both in his arms. With his hands on your hips, he turns you around and kisses your lips immediately. The action doesn’t surprise you as you relax into the kiss, but also making you weak in the knees. You’re in his control now, but you nearly forget that you’re cooking.

“Harry…” you say as you pull back and turn back around to the stove. “I’m cooking.” He turns you back around and reaches behind you to turn the stove off.

“Not anymore.” He says with a big smile and you giggle while rolling your eyes at his childness.

You wrap your arms around his torso, making you feel small in his hold as his arms go around your shoulders with his chin resting on your head. You both don’t say a word as you listen and enjoy the music while swaying in each other’s hold.

As the next song plays, you lift your head up causing him to lift off of yours and he looks down while you look up. You don’t say anything, but reach up slightly to kiss him. With all the kissing you’ve done with Harry, every kiss is something special. Something you’ve never felt before. The connection between you two has a magnifying pull that cannot be broken. You two gravitate towards each other involuntarily, and you’re scared one of you is going to run.

So many thoughts are running through your head, but you don’t say any of them as you’re enjoying the moment of listening to the music in the back and swaying while being in this man’s arms while kissing him in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’ve always been one to run away from your feelings. It’s a bad habit that you’ve had since you were in high school and there wasn’t one exact event that happened for it to trigger your need to run away. Perhaps it was seeing your friends get played by boys, or your cousin crying to you because her boyfriend dumped her, or hearing a stranger talking about how they have two partners, especially after your ex boyfriend dumped you—the list goes on. You’ve just been running.

And you want to stop—you really do.

But you can’t help but notice that Harry has been avoiding you. He would always text you when you weren’t with him, but you could practically feel how distant he is when you would ask to go over or even ask how his day was.

So now you find yourself on his doorstep pretty early in the morning, ready to knock on his door after a week of not talking or communicating with each other.

You knock three times before stepping back slightly, mentally preparing yourself to talk to him, and it takes about a minute for him to answer the door.

“Oh, hey.” Harry says surprised.

“Hi. Uh, can I come in?” You asked hesitantly. Harry only nods which increases your nervousness even more, and he steps aside, letting you in. You make your way inside his house and go towards the couch, and sit. You know you’re more than welcome to make yourself comfortable in his home, but the week’s worth of tension made you think otherwise.

“What did you want to talk about?” Harry gets straight to the point, leaving you no time to recollect your thoughts.

“Well, uh, it’s just that…” Harry raises his eyebrows and it seems like he’s annoyed in some way. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah, did you think that we weren’t?” He says kind of harshly, making you shake a little.

“You’ve just been kinda distant, and I didn’t know if it’s something that I did or if I said anything.” The look on your eye is sad and he immediately softens. Harry has always been weak for you, so anytime you’re sad or down, no doubt he would always be there for you.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I have been distant. Work is getting more frustrating and it just seems like I don’t have time anymore. So, I’m sorry for not contacting you. Believe me, I want to spend every day with you, but it’s a tad bit hard, so I apologize.” You smile softly, accepting his apology. He lied just a bit, but he would tell you later.

“Harry, if you’re frustrated you can come to me, you know that? I know we have sex and everything, but we’re always friends.” Harry’s heart drops and he’s reminded that that’s what you think of you two: friends. And you’ll probably always think of your relationship that way. He nods and says thanks, and you stand up and walk towards him.

Harry watches you grab his hands, pulling him in slightly, and connecting your lips together as one. The kiss was soft and gentle, very comforting, and one that tells him that you’ll always be there for him. And he appreciates it.

And of course, the kiss heats up a bit causing Harry to press himself against you even harder, and you don’t mind at all.

In the early morning of the day, he takes you against his couch as you told him there was no time to make it to the bedroom because of how deprived you were the past week for him. And that made him harder, knowing how much you’ve missed him.

The touches and kisses felt different. It seemed rushed and too quick for his liking, and he did his best to slow things down, but you were too needy.

After two rounds of desire and lust all over each other’s bodies, you both start changing into the clothes you took each other out of. As you put your shirt back on, Harry had a nervous look on his face, and you can’t help but ask, but he beat you to it.

“Hey, can we talk?” Harry asks nervously.

“Sure, but can you make it quick? Gotta run to work, which I’m already late for, thanks to you.” You say sarcastically. Of course you’re not mad at him for bending you over—of course not.

“I-I can wait till you’re back actually.” You look at him confusingly and walk towards him.

“Hey, whatever you need to tell me, you can say it.”

“It’s just that-” his words were cut off by the ringing of your phone. You grunt and walk towards the bedside table where your phone has been charging.

“Fuck, it’s my boss. I’ll come back right after I get off, and then we can talk about whatever you want, okay?” You pecked his lips quick enough for him to even react. You head for the door and open it, but before taking a step out, you turn your head. “Surprise me when I get back home?” You smirk and he knows well that means having him naked, in bed.

Home.

He takes a deep breath out and sits on the couch, putting his face in his hands as he thinks hard. His mind was in jumbles. He didn’t know what he would do if your phone didn’t ring. He needed to let his thoughts and his feelings out, but he was grateful that he was interrupted. Harry was a nervous mess and he felt like his head might explode because of how much he’s been thinking, but he has approximately five hours to get his shit together before he can finally tell you the truth.

Five hours felt like forever. It was the never ending sound of the clock ticking each second and the ongoing thoughts running through Harry’s mind. But once he heard the first click of the lock unlocking, he knew it was happening.

“Honey, I’m hooomee!” You say every time you enter his house. It started off as a way to tease one another because things have been very domestic as if you were playing house or husband and wife with him. And nothing frustrates Harry more than wanting for that teasing to stop and for it to actually happen.

Harry made his way down the staircase to find you taking your hair out from the tight ponytail and flipping it thoroughly to make the ache of having your hair up for hours to disappear.

“Aww, you’re not naked?” You pout as you walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing his lips as you felt like you went days without his touch. Harry loosely places his hands on your hips, and that’s when you knew something was off.

You pull back and look at him to notice that he wasn’t even looking at you. He loved eye contact—lived for it. He loved the deep connection he was able to make with people and how people can communicate with their eyes, but he wasn’t giving you any of it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t say anything but pull away from your hold, making you unravel your arms around him; already missing his touch. “Harry?” He takes a seat on the couch and you follow, taking a seat but at a distance, anxious of what is about to come.

“R-Remember I was trying to tell you something? Before you left?” You only nod, and he just wants to hear you voice answer him, but he’ll take it as he goes. “Well, for the past two weeks, I’ve been trying to sort my thoughts out and trying to understand what I’m trying to feel…” he trailed off, making you feel like you’re about to implode with the suspense.

“And…” he gives it a minute and decides that he just needs to spit it out.

“I’m falling for you.” He turns his head to look at you, and you’re in absolute shock.

“W-What?” Your mouth is slightly open, but no other words come out as you’re speechless.

“I’m starting to fall in love with you, and it’s not stopping anytime soon.” He says straight up as it’s out in the open now and there’s no going back.

“But… we didn’t agree to that.” Harry’s heart felt like it plummeted right when you spoke. He was waiting for the absolute opposite of what you’re saying. You mentally slap yourself in the face for saying that. All this time you’ve just wanted to feel something, for Harry to feel something towards you, and when he finally does, you say that.

“I-I know we didn’t, but you’re more to me than what we do. That’s why I’ve been trying hard not to talk to you because I’m feeling way more and I’ve been trying hard not to act like a fool around you.” Harry shifts forward slightly and you don’t move back, to which he thinks is a good sign.

“But we didn’t agree to that.” You repeat, but more straightforward this time. Shut up!

“I just want you more than damn melody!” He blurts out and you look at him with confusion. “Four months ago, the first time we met, when we were talking on the rooftop. I was having trouble with my writing, specifically about sex, and you told me that-”

“Sex is a melody.”

“Yeah, that sex is a melody. You helped me that night and this whole thing we’re doing is great, but it’s just the melody. And I want you more than a melody. I want the whole entire song with you. I don’t want just part of the song and think that I’m satisfied, I want the entire masterpiece, and that’s you.”

You don’t say anything as you’re trying to process this, but you feel like you shouldn’t be in shock. You and Harry have been very good friends and sex comes along with it. The deep and great conversations were always sweet in your memory. It was inevitable for you two to come together as a couple, and you’d be lying if you told him you didn’t want him more than a melody too.

“Say something… please.” He says in a sad voice.

“I’m just… scared.” You confess honestly. Of course you were scared. You didn’t know any better than a boyfriend that broke up with you because he didn’t like you anymore.

Harry walks towards you and reaches down for you hands. He places his forehead on yours for a moment before placing his lips onto it.

“I know. I am too, but we’ll get through it together if that’s what you want.” Harry looks at you so intensely you feel as if you might burst into tears, but you know that he’s just passionate about it.

“I want that,” you nod, “I’d really like that.” He smiles and kisses your forehead.

“Yeah?” You smile and nod again. “But we don’t have to rush this. All I know is that I like you more than sex. Your mind, your humor, your personality, your laugh, your-”

“Okay, okay.” You giggle.

“I wasn’t done yet.”

“I know, but seeing as you still have more to say, you would never be done.” You pinch his hip softly and Harry smiles. It’s felt like he’s been neglecting his feelings because you had said you didn’t want to be in a relationship, and now that he has you in his arms and knowing that it’s not just sex, he’s the happiest person alive.

“You got new sunflowers.”

“Yeah, I just bought them. We didn’t see each other this past week, so I needed to buy them.” You smile, looking at the new bouquet of sunflowers that sit in the vase on the counter.

You look at them and how they stand facing up, big and bright. How yellow they are and how they bring so much joy into the home. And you can’t help but think of Harry when you look at the sunflowers. With how new things are going to be in a relationship, he’s brought so much light and life into your life.

You’ve been through some hardships in your life causing you to lose people, but once flowers die, just plant new seeds.

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