#anyway it’s never going to happen but it is fun to pretend
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If I took the chances, beat the odds, would you cram me in stone, call me your god?
#from the notebook#writeblr#This one is about how I want to be famous… carve me a hole in your heart. write about me like you’ve never written before#if I can do the things my brain says I can’t.. if I can overcome those hurdles and become that person I want to be…#will you worship me like the others?#will I be remembered forever in stone like gerard way and pete wentz and ryan ross?#Will I help people stay alive with just a song? Crazy shit#anyway it’s never going to happen but it is fun to pretend
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🌌 TOO MANY NIGHTS
synopsis. theodore nott spent too many nights, smoking and hanging out with matt’s little sister to not make her his girlfriend.
notes. theodore nott x riddle!reader. reader is a hufflepuff! pls, let’s pretend you’re 12 when u get to hogwarts xoxo, just for the plot
theodore nott had always been fascinated by how many differences there were between his best friend mattheo and mattheo’s younger sister. while mattheo wanted to fight anyone, who just scrunched their nose at him, you would rather have your nose broken, so the other person wouldn’t have to go through that pain. while mattheo could be consider as the grumpy (their oldest sibling obviously being the grumpier), you held the tilte of the sunshine.
theo believed it suited you. ever since the three of you were kids, mattheo had his best friend grow protective of you in the same way he had, looking out for you even if you didn’t want it. however, whenever it was nott making your blood boil with some nonsense — you couldn’t get as mad at him as you’d get at your brother. it’s because he’s not my brother, he’s theo, you’d always tell yourself. the truth was that as much as you wanted, you could never be angry with him.
the same thing continued when you started hogwarts. although, you could feel the shifting of your friendship with theo. maybe it all started to happen, because you were growing up, or maybe it was meant to be like that. anyways — you found yourself dreaming of your childhood friend in situations… that made you blush profusely whenever you walked passed him. it was complicating things so much you tried to push it aside, nevertheless to no avail.
“you like him.” a friend of yours joked, when you confessed your thoughts about theo, and… even if gabriela said it in a joking way, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.
turns out, she was.
it was all revealed, when another older friend of yours asked you out to the yule ball, and you had to watch theo having fun with daphne greengrass as well as their own group of friends that you weren’t a part of. did it sting? like hell. should’ve you expected it? absolutely. some would say — you should wait for the moment, when he asks you to the ball, but you knew you were just matt’s little sister in his eyes. a mere childhood friend he used to play with when he was younger, though all that ended the second he (and your brother) got his letter, from this moment on theodore nott was a serious, adult man.
few years later, when the slytherins were throwing a party in celebration of mattheo’s eighteen birthday, as his sister, you got an invitation. as much as you loved your brother, you definitely weren’t a big party person — you’d rather spend your time in the smaller group of people, chilling to the muggle music and maybe get high. nonetheless, it was your sibling’s birthday and you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you didn’t show up.
to be fair, matt’s celebration was one of the first slytherin parties you ever attended, and from all the rumors coating its mysterious aura, your expectations were pretty high.
gabriela, the friend of yours, whom you confided in having a small crush on theo, apparently never forgotten that conversation and decided to ‘spice your night a tad’, her exact words. she lent you a fitted, emerald, silky dress that ended slightly above your knee, she did your make up and gave a nose kiss for good luck.
for the first two and a half hour of the party, you couldn’t really catch a glimpse of the boy you were looking for, so your attention were turned towards plan b, which was getting wasted — and maybe meeting someone to get your brother’s best friend off your mind. so as i said, two and a half hour later, you were much more eccentric, bubbly, and definitely more ray of sunshine, caused by the loads of alcohol you put in yourself.
“teddy!” you exclaimed with a grin as you swiftly made your way towards where he was sitting in the corner of the room. a cigarette in his hand, few of his first buttons undone, a smirk lingering on his lips, although it was gone the second he saw you, being replaced with a genuine, but almost unnoticeable smile.
“riddle.” he replied. the corners of his lips went slightly upwards as your hands were wrapped around him, right after you plopped down on the couch next to him. “drunk?” theo asked, his head tilted to the side to get a better view of your flushed face.
“never.” a giggle slipped past your lips. you leaned more on him, serving him another one of your charming beams. “can i have a hypothetical question?”
“hypothetical?” he echoed your words, suppressing a laugh in attempt to not hurt your drunken feelings. “sure, riddle. go on.” nott added upon seing you nod your head.
“could you give me one of your cigarettes?” you grinned once again, putting all effort into a pleading puppy expression you thought you’ve mastered. his answers made you uncertain about your manipulation/daddy’s girl skills.
once again, theodore fought back a chuckle, putting on a teasing smirk. “no.”
“teddy!”
“what? wasn’t it hypothetical?” he snickered, watching you groan theatrically, lowering yourself on the green sofa. it took him a moment to ease your needs and pull out a package of muggle cigarettes that made you raise your eyebrow in curiosity at him. “they’re the best, believe me.” he mumbled with a cigarette in between his lips.
soon after, he tugged you closer after having looked around to see if mattheo was out of sight. as soon as his nerves were settled and your brother was nowhere to be found, theo’s fingers were wrapped around the lighter he bought in second year. the asshole he was, it felt like he was lighting it up for so long you were about to turn eighty. his gaze was instantly focused on your eyes. butterflies were slowly erupting in your stomach with each second he slacked off to light it.
somehow, you two parted your ways few minutes later, ending the sparkling moment between you two with a quick and rash kiss on nott’s cheek, a little too close to his lips for your brother’s liking, too far for yours.
although, the separation didn’t last too long. at least for him, because, when you met him again, you were drunk out of your mind, giggling at every single word someone said to you. good thing theo’s gut feeling told him to look after you.
you were stumbling over your own feet, stuttering at easiest words until you finally landed in paradise— or just his arms. accidentally, but you could cross it out from your checklist, not that you had one.
“hiya.” a soft smile made its way onto your face as he tightened the grip on your waist, not because you smiled so charmingly at him, but also because some older dudes that occupied his previous spot was busy undressing you with their eyes.
if you weren’t mattheo’s little sister, he’d probably try to get you to agree to have a quick round in his round, hell — maybe not even that quick, he could spend an entire night with a girl like you. unfortunately, the reality was different. he could never take an advantage of you, you were too… you and theodore nott liked that too much to just… ruin it.
“what’re you doing?” you asked, frowning as he picked you up and turned towards the staircase. “teddy– put me down, please.” the words left your lips in a slurred manner, but theodore didn’t budge, not even once.
the teenager obeyed your request the moment he walked through the door to his dormitory that was shared with mattheo. theodore sat you on his bed, his green eyes scanning your face intently, while you stiffled a laughter. as a result, you got a confused expression from him. “what?” he asked.
“you’re so pretty.” a soft mumble left your mouth. it had always been hard to catch theodore nott off guard, mostly because he was an intelligent and cunning person, who always noticed the bigger picture, predict the intentions before someone even opened their mouth, yet you did it. if your mind wasn’t so clouded with alcohol, you’d count it as a small win.
anyway, theo didn’t let your words get too much of a hold on him as he silently continued to undress you. as wrong as it sounds, he was doing you a simple favour — nott wanted to bring you comfort and safety, so he dragged you to his dorm and began unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear.
it took the boy all the possible strength he had in himself to control all the urges he just felt. it would be so wrong if he got hard just from the mere sight of the goddess sitting in front of him, with pouty lips and a baffled expression caused by his lack of response to her compliment.
“teddy?” you tried getting his attention once again, involuntarily scrapping off the polish of your nails as your eyes rested on his back, watching him shuffle through his closet to find you a comfortable pyjama.
to be fair, theo absolutely loathed the nickname. teddy reminded him of a child he used to be, a child with a loving mother, who would always call him that exact nickname. it wasn’t too much of a hassle, because no one called him that — until you did and it seemed like you couldn’t get rid of it from your vocabulary. somehow, it never bugged him when you did it. the way ‘teddy’ rolled off your tongue always gave him some sort of warm feeling in his stomach.
“mm?” your brother’s best friend muttered, his back still facing you. seconds later, he’s again in front of you, nudging you yet so slightly, so you put your hands above your head. “what is it, y/n/n?” he used the nickname you haven’t heard in a while, causing a literal war in your abdomen.
“could you kiss me?” for barely a second, his brain stopped functioning. he stopped in his tracks, oversized t–shirt still in his hands, all that until he decided to spare your embarrassment the next day and acted like he didn’t just hear what he heard. he was foolish for thinking that a sight of you almost naked and not getting a hard–on was the worst part of his night. now, theodore’s brain was filled with images of you two making out, and… it’s tough.
wordlessly, he finally put the shirt on you, nudging you afterwards, worry was still vividly lingering on his face as he watched you getting comfortable. “i’ll be right here.” nott murmured, grabbing a pillow, laying down on the floor. theo on one side of his bed, the bucket he brought you in case throwing up on the other.
both of you knew that he could go back downstairs, maybe even hook–up with some girl and spend the night at her dorm, just like mattheo did. nevertheless, he stayed there right with you.
it was further in the night, when you woke up and noticed that he still occupied his spot on the floor next to the bed. a pang of guilt hit you (as well as the pounding in your head) as you stared at his peaceful state.
merlin, theodore faustus nott was today times’ adonis and you felt like you could just spend the rest of the night gawking at how insanely beautiful he was. you could barely resist the urge to run your hand through his dark curls.
“you know i can feel you’re staring, riddle?” theo chuckled with his eyes still closed. shit. at least it was dark enough, so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “somethin’ bothering you?” he asked, giving you a concerned look.
“sleep on the bed, please?” you pleaded. he was about to refuse, when you continued. “i know you don’t want to kiss me, but it breaks my heart seeing you suffer there, when there’s enough room for two people here.” the words coming out of your mouth are quiet. the embarrassment and absurdity of this whole situation got to you — if you just didn’t ask him to kiss you, he’d probably sleep in the bed with you, but you obviously had to ruin it.
“y/n/n, i want to kiss you.” he said, his tone matching yours. “but i can’t, you know it. mattheo would kill me the second he knew.” theo knew he shouldn’t but the urge was too great to resist, so he placed his hands on your knees, reducing the distance between the two of you.
“matt doesn’t have to know.” a whispers left your lips as you leaned an inch closer, brushing the tip of your nose against theo’s. “teddy, please.” you pleaded, staring at him with urgency in your eyes.
it took theodore half a second to consider his options. he could’ve refused and regret it afterwards, but stay alive or he could’ve just kissed you and maybe get into a heated argument with mattheo. so… a voice in his head said fuck it and kissed you with all those feelings he’s had in him.
you could feel your entire world stop the second his lips fell on yours with urgency and passion. it was all you ever dreamed of, he was the guy who was your last thought before sleep and the first after waking up. a silly, childhood crush that developed over the years into… something you couldn’t describe. theodore nott had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing it — if he asked you to jump into a fire pit for a longing glance, you wouldn’t think about it twice and jump.
your fingers were tangled in his curls as he, without breaking the kiss, leaned more towards you, until your back hit the fabric of his sheets. to be completely honest, you felt like your stomach was about to be ripped apart just from the proximity between the two of you.
the kiss lasted way longer than you expected. it could’ve been hours, but you could never been sure. his lips were just inches apart, when he pulled away yet so slighty, letting out a groan as you nudged the tip of your nose again his.
“you don’t even know how much i wanted to do that.” his words were quiet. “matt will kill me, won’t he?” a low chuckle espaced his throat qs you let out a groan in response.
“could you stop mentioning my brother and just kiss me, nott?”
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott rec#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theo nott rec#theo nott fic#theodore nott fic#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#slytherin boys x reader#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter x reader#niki’s works 🫂#theodore nott x riddle!reader#theodore nott smut#theo nott smut
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fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe
it's a date
there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3
You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.
Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:
A low whistle exited Morgan.
"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.
Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.
"Hot date?"
"You could say that."
Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.
"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.
"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."
"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."
The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.
As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.
Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.
"That bad?"
You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."
There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.
"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."
That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"
"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."
"Which one?"
"Shrek."
Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.
"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.
"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."
Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.
"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.
"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.
The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.
"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.
"What about me?"
"Who's going to make it up to you?"
"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.
"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."
A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"
"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"
"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."
All yours. He could get used to that.
"It's a date."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★
˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-
☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her
daily click! palestine masterpost
☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass
☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol
☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)
☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆
u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add
my masterlist
ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.
today, ellie was running late.
mistake number one.
she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.
she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.
she opened her phone to turn on her music.
you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.
unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.
guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.
granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.
which she was not.
mistake number two.
you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.
if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.
you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.
she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.
“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.
in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.
you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.
“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.
she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.
you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.
“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.
you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.
just really pissed off.
ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”
you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.
“thanks.”
as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.
when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”
ouch.
okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”
you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.
“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”
she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.
her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.
it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.
“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”
you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”
“…oh.”
well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.
you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.
mistake number three.
the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.
ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.
her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.
what the fuck just happened?
“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”
yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.
you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…
“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”
you sound more like you care this time, at least.
not that you do care, or anything,
just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.
that’s all.
“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”
“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”
“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”
you narrow your eyes at her.
no way this girl was reckless and stupid.
“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”
ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.
“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”
you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.
“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.
…and kinda wishing she’d come back.
just so you could get the last word.
when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.
you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.
“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”
“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”
“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”
“...well?”
“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.
this felt like a sick joke.
abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”
“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”
“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”
“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”
“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”
“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”
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──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.
“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.
asshole.
“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”
“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.
god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.
“ha-ha. good one.”
“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”
“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”
“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”
she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.
he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.
“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”
“but—“
“drop it.”
he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”
“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”
“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”
ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.
still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.
“don’t let it happen again.”
“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”
“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”
she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.
austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.
“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.
austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.
as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.
“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”
he has to be kidding.
she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?
amazing. just what she wanted!
“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”
she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.
the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.
she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.
terrible timing.
she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.
that wasn’t really a good option.
uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.
she was screwed.
nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.
she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.
oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.
her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.
──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
──── ✧《✿》✧ ────
was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.
does she care? no.
jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.
she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.
thank you jesse and jesse’s money.
when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.
ugh.
“you’re a wreck, williams—“
“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”
the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.
it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.
“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”
she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.
“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.
she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.
you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.
“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”
“i can wait here.“
“sit.”
“fine.”
she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.
she was hoping to never see you again.
maybe coming here was a mistake.
“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”
you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.
you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.
“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.
ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.
demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.
damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.
would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.
she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.
“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.
she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.
man, this sucked.
“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”
“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”
“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”
you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.
“i have a car.”
ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.
“okay? congratulations?”
“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”
“no.”
“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”
ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.
“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”
“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”
“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”
“what’s your name?”
“huh?”
“are you dumb?”
“…it’s ellie.”
“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”
“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.
“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”
“wait. i’m sorry.”
fuck.
maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.
she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”
“what’s the magic word?”
“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”
“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”
ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”
“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”
“yeah. that sounds good.”
this is such a bad idea.
#max writes ☆#btw#ladybugs symbolize positive change#and luck#will make a part 2 eventually maybe i’ll actually finish this series#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#the last of us#tlou#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#wlw#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x f!reader#sorry i know jesses ooc but i rewrote it like 10492 times i can’t get it to sound good
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How JJK Characters React to You Describing Them as Your Type When Todo Asks
Warnings: none
A/N: pretend you’re in a huge group with all of the students present when this question was asked :) also, I went with the anime adaptation of the characters rather than the manga, just fyi!
Yuji:
“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”
“Yeah y/n, we wanna know!” Yuji said, excitedly. You figured there was no harm in sharing, Todo and the group were just looking for fun to distract them for a little bit.
“Okay, well I like guys that are average height, not too tall or short. Super strong, of course, with a cute, goofy smile. Oh, and colored hair is always fun too!”
“Oh man, he sounds so cool! If I find any guys that look like that, don’t worry, I’ll send them your way!” Shaking your head and laughing, you got into a conversation with Megumi while Nobara yanked Yuji out of your earshot.
“Yuji! Don’t you realize what y/n said?!”
He rested his chin in his fingers, deep in thought for a few moments before he answered.
“No? Should I have?”
Nobara didn’t hesitate to whack him on the top of the head.
“They literally described you, idiot! Don’t you own a mirror?!” Yuji’s mouth opened in a big smile. This was great news since he had a big crush on you!
“Y/n! I have to talk to you!”
Megumi:
“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”
You sighed. You didn’t want to join Todo’s antics but you had no choice.
“You don’t have to answer him. It’s a stupid question anyway.”
Megumi’s voice came unexpectedly from behind you. You smiled inwardly at his protectiveness.
“I appreciate that Fushiguro, but I might as well. Let’s see. I like moody boys on the lankier side with dark black hair and dark blue eyes. He has to love animals too.”
You looked at Megumi to see if it registered that you were talking about him. All of a sudden, he sported a deep blush and excused himself from the group. Todo gave you a hearty smack on the back for your response.
“I’m proud of you for baring your soul like that to the one you love,” he said, tears rolling down his face. “Y/n, go get your man!”
You turned to look at your friends who all just shrugged their shoulders. Looks like you’re off to find Megumi then!
Nobara:
“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”
You had no hesitation answering this question, you loved to talk about things like this, gossip and crushes and the sort. Besides, it was time Nobara knew how you felt!
“I thought you’d never ask! I really like short girls with short hair. If it’s a vibrant color, that’s a plus. Spunky personalities are the best and I need someone who’ll keep up with me when I go shopping.”
Looking over at Nobara, you saw her jaw drop and you knew she understood what you were getting at.
“Y/n! You liked me and you never told me?! This whole time?!” she shouted, running towards you. You didn’t know whether she was going to hit or kiss you so you took off running as well. Gotta love the feisty girls!
Maki:
“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”
“This stupid question again?” grumbled Maki. You were a bit nervous to reply to Todo. You had a huge crush on Maki but she was, well, intimidating, to say the least. To be fair, so was Todo, and you heard what happened to Fushiguro so you went with the safest bet.
“I like girls who are on the taller side and insanely strong. Light eyes, dark hair. Straight to the point, always. And uh… glasses.”
Maki hadn’t moved a muscle and you cringed, fearing the worst. Best case scenario, she would ignore you ever said that. Worst case, she’d beat you up. When she came over and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, you gulped.
“Y/n. We’re talking about this somewhere else.”
(Spoiler alert: when you were somewhere else, you kissed🤭)
Inumaki:
“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”
Todo was on your last nerve. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but why should you be expected to tell everyone your personal business like this? In front of both schools’ students, no less! When you were filled in on what happens when you don’t answer truthfully, you resigned to the fact that you were exposing your true feelings to everyone today, whether you liked it or not.
“I like shorter men, preferably with medium length blonde hair, and bright purple eyes. He doesn’t talk much but more than makes up for it with his top tier sense of humor.” You noticed that Inumaki never broke his gaze from you as you spoke. You shuffled over to where he was sitting to explain yourself, but this time it was you who couldn’t find the right words.
“Mustard leaf?” Inumaki broke the silence first, basically asking you what was wrong since you marched over there and hadn’t said a thing.
“Look, Toge, I’m sorry if I—”
He tugged on your sleeve, stopping you. In his hands was a note that read, “I like you too” with a little smiley face at the end.
Yuta:
“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”
You weren’t sure how to answer Todo. On one hand, you didn’t want to expose your crush on Yuta. On the other, would be it so bad for the truth to be out there? He was a kind person that wouldn’t drop your friendship if he didn’t feel the same way.
“I really like average height guys with longer dark hair and big, dark blue eyes. Personality wise he has to be extremely loyal and caring. Oh, and good with a sword.”
“Sooo… Yuta?” questioned Panda, and you nodded in agreement, your face warming with a blush.
“Wait, me? Really?” Yuta’s eyes lit up as he broke out into a hopeful smile. You nodded again.
“Oh man, that’s great!” he exclaimed, and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve liked you for awhile too and I just thought maybe you didn’t feel the same but you do! Which is amazing!” You laughed softly at his rambling. This school year just got a whole lot better!
Gojo:
“Y/L/N sensei! What kind of man is your type?”
“Todo, isn’t that wildly inappropriate to ask your superior?” you answered, a joking tone present.
“Maybe, but we’re curious! Please, sensei?”
“Yeah, sensei! It’s just for fun” Yuji chimed in.
“And it’s a team building exercise to know something so personal! You’re always saying we need to communicate better,” added Nobara. You rolled your eyes playfully.
“I meant that to be an exercise among you children, not me. But I will entertain this for only a moment, so listen carefully,” you told the group and they cheered like their favorite baseball player hit a home run. As you were about to spill your secret, you spotted Satoru leaning against a wall, clearly interested in the secret you were about to spill.
“I like super tall men who are lean but extremely strong. He has to be very funny and goofy but with a kind heart. White hair and striking blue eyes are also a must.”
Maki’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she exclaimed, “You like that blindfolded idiot?!”
As the kids clamored at the newfound information, Gojo took that time to approach you and the students.
“Excuse me everyone, but me and my new lover must depart,” he announced, taking your hand dramatically while leading you away to laugh at what just happened.
Noritoshi:
“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”
You groaned. You really didn’t want Noritoshi to know about your infatuation with him. It was no secret that he had more important things to deal with than schoolyard crushes so you were afraid to confess in case it made him uncomfortable—or worse, dislike you!
“You don’t have to answer the immature question, y/n,” Noritoshi spoke up when he noticed your discomfort. You were grateful for him but you wanted to keep the peace among your classmates and judging by the death glare Todo sent to you two, you’d better start talking.
“Thank you Kamo, but I value harmony among friends so I will answer this for Todo’s amusement only. I like tall men with a bit longer dark hair and gray eyes. Having an honorable character and being good with a bow is the way to my heart.” You felt Noritoshi tense up next to you and you refused to look at him out of fear of rejection. He took you by surprise when he leaned over ever so slightly to whisper to you.
“I was caught off guard by your confession but I can’t say I don’t feel the same. Can we discuss this later?”
Todo:
“Y/n! What kind of man is your type?”
Your eyes went wide when Todo’s booming voice reached your ears. You were super into him but no one knew. You knew you couldn’t fool him with a fake answer, though, and if you were going to feel his hand for the first time, you’d rather it be from holding it with your own than having it curled in a fist and connecting with your face.
“Um… I like men that are extremely tall and buff. Dark hair, tan skin. And passionate, of course.”
“Hm! That’s a great answer! He sounds hot,” replied Todo, smirking, “but unfortunately for that perfect fake man, I’m taking you on a date first because you’re my type!”
You definitely weren’t expecting this!
Mai:
“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”
You rolled your eyes. This big oaf is going to jeopardize your friendship for sure. You really liked Mai but you figured she wasn’t into dating and all the lovey dovey stuff.
“Do I have to answer?” you asked, praying Todo had a change of heart.
“No, y/n, we all wanna know. What’s your type?” Mai chimed in, a sly grin on her face. You gulped.
“I… like women that have short, dark hair and dark eyes. If she’s taller than average that’s cool, and I love a snarky personality.”
“No way!” exclaimed Momo when she realized who you were talking about. You refused to look anyone in the eyes out of embarrassment and fear. What you weren’t expecting was Mai grabbing your hand and leading you somewhere else. Hopefully it was to talk and not get beat up!
Momo:
“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”
You huffed in annoyance. There were always some sort of antics with this guy! You had liked Momo for awhile now but she was like an enigma to you. You could never get a good read on her so maybe telling her how you felt outright would be a good thing?
“I really like girls with blonde hair and blue eyes, and short, too. Having a cute personality is a plus as well,” you answered, hoping that was straightforward enough.
“Wait a minute, that sounds exactly like me!” Momo exclaimed, blushing slightly. You sheepishly nodded your head.
“Because it is. I have a crush you.”
The whole group erupted in a chorus of “aww’s” and “how adorable.” You were nervous that you had accidentally made her uncomfortable but your fears disappeared as she came over to sit next to you. When the students were distracted by another topic, you felt Momo’s hand rest over so slightly on top your own and you knew you made the right decision to confess.
Miwa:
“Y/n! What kind of woman is your type?”
Before you spoke, you met eyes with Miwa. It almost seemed as if she was anxious to hear what you had to say!
“Girls with dark blue eyes and are average height are my type. I also really like girls with kind hearts and are down to earth. Blue hair isn’t too bad, either,” you finished, smiling nervously. Both of you were blushing messes while Mai scoffed “Get a room!” Your classmates were just happy that the secret was out in the open—they were tired of you two dancing around your feelings for each other!
#jjk headcanons#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#noritoshi x reader#gojo x reader#yuji itadori x reader#megumi x reader#nobara x reader#aoi todo x reader#miwa kasumi x reader#momo nishimiya x reader#maki zenin x reader#inumaki x reader#mai zenin x reader#yuta x reader
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omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)
pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)
words: ~ 4.6k
you can read the previous part here!
CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds
Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.
It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.
Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.
As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"
You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).
Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.
(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)
Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).
You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.
The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.
As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!
He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.
He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)
Yeah, fat chance.
When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.
...The fuck.
You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.
You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.
Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.
Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.
Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).
The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.
"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."
Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.
You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).
He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.
Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...
You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.
It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.
“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”
You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.
"We?"
Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.
He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"
You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"
Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...
"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."
As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!
You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"
Adrian can't answer fast enough.
"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"
But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.
He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.
Apparently, you’ve trained him well.
You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).
"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."
Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.
You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...
Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.
It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.
Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.
"I'm hungry."
Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.
He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.
"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"
He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)
The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.
You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.
“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”
You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.
Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.
“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”
Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,
“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”
You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”
“N-no!”
The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.
“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”
Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.
Bingo.
You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.
“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”
“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”
You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.
He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...
All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.
He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.
You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.
"Open it."
"N-no-"
You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"
"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"
"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."
That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-
But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.
Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.
Yeah, good enough.
Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.
Then you're lifting the lid.
"No!"
He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.
Fuck.
It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)
"What. The. Fuck."
"I-I can explain- It's not-!"
"I literally do not believe that you can."
Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"
You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.
But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.
They’re all you.
Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.
It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.
(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)
"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.
Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"
While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.
It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.
But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...
This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?
And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.
The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.
"Alright, shut it, stalker."
Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.
"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."
Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.
Jesus, he's shameless.
This is gonna be fun.
But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).
"Alright. Sit."
Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.
You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.
He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.
"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."
Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.
You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.
You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...
He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.
What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...
"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"
Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.
You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.
You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."
You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.
Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.
A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.
"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"
If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.
He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.
“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”
Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.
“Use your words, mutt.”
He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-
“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”
He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-
“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“
He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.
"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.
He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.
Oh god yes please-
Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.
"Use your words, puppy."
Puppy.
Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.
It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,
"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"
A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.
"There, that's a good boy."
Adrian's vision whites out.
He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.
He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.
His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.
He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.
Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.
Hot.
"Pathetic."
You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.
"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."
Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"
You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...
"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."
You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.
Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.
He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.
“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.
“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.
“See ya tomorrow!”
Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.
He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.
He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.
The phone drops from his fingers like lead.
How?
His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).
It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?
Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.
[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]
A shaky giggle escapes him.
Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.
thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3
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#yandere x reader#yandere x you#soft yandere#sub yandere#hybrid yandere#puppy yandere#male yandere#bully reader#gn reader#dom reader#yandere oc#yandere imagine#yandere requests
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Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader
Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???
A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.
part one | finale | tmic masterlist
When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.
“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box.
Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”
“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”
“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.
Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”
“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”
Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”
“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”
“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.
“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”
“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”
“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”
“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.
“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.
“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”
“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”
He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”
Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it.
“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.
“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.
“You should be.”
“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”
Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”
Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”
“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.
“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”
Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”
You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”
“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”
You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”
His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”
Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”
“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.
“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”
A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”
“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”
“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”
Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”
“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”
Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”
He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”
“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”
“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before.
“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.
He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”
“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”
“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”
“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily.
“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.
“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk.
“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”
The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”
“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him.
“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.”
His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”
“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.
Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”
“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response.
“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense.
Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.
He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”
“Happy to return the favor.”
“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.
“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.
“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”
“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”
“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”
Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”
Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”
“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”
“I’ll call you, okay?”
Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.
Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.
Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”
“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”
There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”
Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”
“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”
“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”
“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”
Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.
You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.
You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”
“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”
He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”
“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.”
The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”
“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”
“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”
“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.
“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”
Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”
“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”
“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”
“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”
He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”
Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”
“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”
“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”
“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully.
“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”
His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”
“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”
“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.
Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”
His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?”
Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”
“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.”
When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”
Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”
“See, that? Mean. So mean.”
“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”
He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”
“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”
“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward.
Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.
He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”
“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”
“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.”
He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”
“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”
“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.
“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”
Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”
You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”
“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.
Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”
He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”
“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”
“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.
“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try.”
Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”
Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.
He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”
The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.
“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”
“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.
Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”
“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”
Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec.
He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”
“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.
“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”
You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”
“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”
“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”
“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”
Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.
He was gonna change that.
Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.
Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”
Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”
“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.
Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.
When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”
But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.
“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.
Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”
Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.
“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.
Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.
“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.
“I’m listening.”
He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.
He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”
His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
part one | finale | tmic masterlist
tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute
<3
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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)
#too much in common#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x henderson!reader#eddie munson x henderson!reader smut#eddie munson x f!reader smut#eddie munson x f!reader#henderson!reader#18+ mdni#stoner!reader#eddie munson x stoner!reader
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Are my reoccurring kinks becoming more and more evident hmmm I wonder
But anyway, let's just say I finally got inspired over the weekend 🤫😉
<3masterlist<3
Strictly 18+ MDNI
TW: stepcest, doggy, bj, camgirl!reader x yuji, different positions; use of good girl, nii-chan, whore once; creampie, consensual filming, sex tape, sex stream, mentions of ass fucking, spanking, yuji's an ass man through and through, he's crazy strong as always<3
You never got along with your parents, but you liked your brother very much, he was always there for you so you missed him a lot when he moved out and just tried to survive day by day, but as soon as you turned 18 you packed your bags and moved in with him.
He was a bit confused when he first saw you at his doorstep but he understood. Things are hard at home. So you've been living together for a few years now and everything was going well. You could even hide your little secret from him this whole time. You always made sure that he wasn't at home before you started your stream. Until you didn't one day. You swore he told you that he'll be gone for the night, probably at some friend's party you didn't really pay attention. You even went down to see him off and told him to have fun.
"You guys wanna see my brother fuck me? Oh god he always fucks me so good I wish you guys could see that!", you sighed and continued "You should see his arms, god I bet he could fuck me while standing. And his fingers are so thick and long he can reach much deeper, better than my tiny ones." you splayed your fingers out while you took a sip of your drink. Immediately a couple donations came in either begging or saying ME NEXT.
You chuckled to yourself, "Alright alright, I'll try to ask him, but he's very camera shy guys I'm sorry.", you pouted at the camera. As you proceeded to chat and pick out some toys for today you unfortunately failed to notice the door opening and your brother lean against the door frame
"You fucking minx", he thought to himself. When he first heard his friends talk about a new hot camgirl they found he didn't pay much attention. But when they eventually got him to look his jaw dropped as he quickly snatched the laptop from his friends.
"Eeyy not fair we saw her first!", they protested, but Yuji was having none of it. That's definitely you and that's defintely your room in HIS house. So that's why you always want him out of the house especially on weekends. Is that the reason you wanted to move in with him so quickly, to slut yourself out? What happened to his sweet little sister, maybe he shouldn't have moved out so soon. He felt guilty for leaving you alone he, felt like wasn't a good enough brother for you to resort to something like that-
"Aww I wish you guys could see my my brother he's soo big it just doesn't feel the same without him", you whined while drilling yourself with a dildo. You have got to be shitting me.
"Yeah she talks about him all the time I wonder what he looks like. Chat always goes crazy whenever she mentions him."
Yuji thanked the heavens that they haven't met you yet. God have you mentioned his name before please no.
"Want me to moan his name? Guuyyss he's shy, but because of all of those donations I'll make an exception this once." you winked and went on with your little show, "Yeah you're so good oh god Yu-", nope not doing that, he thought while he slammed the laptop shut.
"HEY party pooper she was about to say his name and be careful that shit was expensive."
"Yeah sorry."
So that's when he set up his plan to catch you in the act. He pretended to leave like usual, but as soon as he heard you run up the stairs he snuck back in and got ready to pounce.
"Y-yuji what are you doing here", you choked as you tried to cover yourself with whatever was laying around.
"Me? You're asking me what I'm doing in MY house?"
"No.. I mean aren't you supposed to be at that party..", you trailed off.
"You wish huh.", he sighed, walking in and closing the door behind him.
You didn't know what to do with yourself as you felt him get closer to you. As soon as you reached out to turn off the camera he stopped you.
"What are you-"
"Don't play coy now, lets go do what we alway do right?"
You were dumbfounded. Huh.
"Cmon, put that mouth to good use."
So that's how you ended up here with your step-brothers cock down your throat while he was filming your face. He had an iron grop on your hair, almost suffocating you with the way he was moving. He was not only bulky and buff body wise but his cock definitely wasn't lacking.
yn's footstool: how do we even stand a chance if he looks like that and he's your standard?? no womder you always talk about him
yn's cumdump: whoa that's better than when she's sucking the dildo
yn's doormat: cumshot cumshot cumshot cumshot bukake
feetluvr77: whoa i can see it in her throat
"C'mon put on a show they are loving it. This is what you've always wanted to do right?", he pulled you off his dick making you cough and suck in a deep breath. Oh you felt so fucked out already, eye make-up smeared and he hasn't even started yet.
"Cmon lay down, 'm gonna fuck you like you always tell them I do." As soon as you laid down on your back he pulled you close and pushed right in without a warning. Your eyes shot open as you tried to muffle a moan.
"Oh that was a good shot, keep it up."
You were so so embarrassed but all of that faded when he started to move, making your eyes roll back and tongue loll out. You always knew he was big, seeing him without a shirt around the house was nothing new but seeing him right now while he was drilling his cock into you it just hit different.
"Yn?"
"Hmm?", you mewled through teary eyes.
"Play with yourself, don't just lay there this is work afterall right?"
You groaned but still reached over to roll your hardened nipples between your fingers and looking directly into the camera.
"That's it, that's a good girl.", he praised while squeezing your thigh and keeping a steady rhythm. "God I can see myself in your tummy, you're so tiny."
Donations were through the roof right now, flooding your ears with requests and remarks.
"Oh, someone said do a peace sign!"
Definitely not-
"Don't be like that, give the people what they want." and with a particularly hard thrust he had you throwing your head back while reluctantly holding up two of your fingers.
"Now smiiileee for the camera. Good girl~"
Oh this was so embarrassing, but it was starting to get you off so you played along. His rhythm faltered for a bit before pulling out and turning you over to your stomach with one arm. He really was strong you always forgot.
"Now, on all fours gotta give them a view of that perfect ass.", you obeyed, turning around and giving the audience the deepest arch you could manage.
"Oh yeah thats it"
After zooming right in to where you two were connected, he went to town. There was already a white ring frothing at his base. God how has he never noticed your ass before, that thing's huge and in this position your waist to hip ration looked ridiculous. His huge hand just looked perfect when spreading and spanking your cheeks. Careful or he'll cum in a few strokes.
He felt like you were reaching your limit, so he pushed even further.
"Fucking whore wants to get railed by her brother. You should've just told me you wanted me to fuck you. You didn't have to lie to your audience, I would have fucked good everyday if you said so sooner.", between his words he spanked your reddening asscheeks and god you were getting close. What you didn't expect though, was for him to spit on your ass and massage it over your puckering rim.
"Stay tuned for next stream, I'll fuck her ass."
"Nooo~", you whined reaching back only for him to grab your arm and force it against your back.
"Don't lie to me, we all know you want everything stuffed don't we, guys?"
Yn's cumsock: Hell yeah!
Feetluvr77: "Make her call you nii-chan or some shit"
You tried to muffle your sobs in the pillow below you, but Yuji had other plans. Before you could react he pulled your back flush against his hard chest kissing and licking down the expanse of your neck while flipping the camera and getting a nice view of your smeared fucked out face.
"For old time's sake tell your nii-chan how good he's making you feel, what do you say? If you do you're allowed to cum, alright?"
He felt you hesitate in his hold.
"Hey what's wrong? You were always soo", thrust, "cute when you called me nii-chan when you were little, what happened to you? Gotta get my cute and obedient little sister back.", a particularly hard thrust almost made you topple over, but his strong grip held you up without a problem.
"Ah- no it's embarrassing..", you moaned at his mean thrusts.
"Say it or you won't cum."
He's as annoying as ever, but you couldn't hold back anymore.
"Feels good, yeah so so good nii-chan thank you. Please can I cum I'm such a good little sister right? Letting you use me however you like please~~"
"Yeah? Good job. Now play with your clit and cream on my cock.", he groaned into your ear and you thanked the heavens. Your hand immediately went to play at your sensitive nub. And with his praises and mean thrusts in his strong hold you felt yourself come undone. Luckily he got the money shot of your blown out eyes and gaping mouth right on camera.
"Thaaaat's it good~", he mused fucking you through your high and holding your limp body before stuffing you to the brim and filling you up as well. "You better take it all, 'm gonna make ya nice and plump."
After he sent you down he pointed the camera at your exposed cunt. "Now push some of it out" when he didn't get any reaction from you he gave you a spank and that did the trick as you felt his cum drip out of you and down your leg, "oh yeah that's it look at that guys." You could see how proud he was by his smug grin and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the camera.
"Any last words?", he questioned while he saw your huffing form as he directed the camera to your face.
Feetluvr77: God I never came this quick and much holy shit best stream so far
A couple comments came as you were saying your goodbyes and with a wave and kiss the camera was turned off. As soon as Yuji laid it back on your desk and was about to comment, a pillow came flying his way, almost knocking him over.
"Ayoo what was that for??"
"Shut up!! Why did you do that?"
"What do you mean? You liked it didn't you?"
You definitely couldn't argue with that, so you just huffed and tried to cover yourself with your blanket. He felt a little panicked at that and went to sit by your side.
"It was okay right? That we did it on camera I mean."
"Yeah it's fine that's what I do. I've always wanted to invite someone over to do it, but I never expected it to be you.." you trailed off not daring to look at him.
"Ohoo, but you always talk about me don't you? Why did you not just ask me?"
"Because it's weird asking my step-brother to have sex with me, it's that cringe step bro porn trope I didn't think you'd be interested in that. And what if someone recognizes you isn't that weird?", you looked at him, cheeks still pink.
"No, we can do it again, I don't mind. Actually I kinda-", he trailed off and you felt a little hopeful only to be let down. "Depending on my cut of course. By the way how much do you even make and will I see some of that for my hard work?"
You groaned and tried to shove him away, but he's built like a wall and didn't even budge.
"I do make quite a lot" when you told him the exact number his eyes shot open.
"That much a month??"
"Per week most of the time."
"What? Then why the hell do you even still live with me?", he was dumbfounded.
"I don't know, it's comfortable and I like being around you I guess.", you said honestly, he was not only easy on the eyes but actually really kind and helpful most of the time.
"Unbelievable, but fine by me" he chuckled shaking his head but came right back, "soooo when do we do it again and what do we do? Also I gotta practice my camera work. I have a lot on my mind, how about-"
Before he could finish you slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a drawn out sigh. Oh boy this will be more work than you anticipated.
-------
Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^
#jjk smut#takes with nini♡#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#itadori yuji x reader#yuji x reader#yuuji x reader#itadori yuji smut#yuuji itadori x reader#yuji smut#yuuji smut#yuji x you#yuuji x you#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori yuuji smut#yuji itadori smut#yuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori x you#yuuji itadori smut
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Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]
Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]
Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up.
Word count: 17,510
Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse
Thursday
Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away.
A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs.
They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life.
It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.
Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.
Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season.
The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.
The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.
The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.
Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner.
That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.
It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.
Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.
Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes.
And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’
Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.
It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.
It would have been terribly romantic.
Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces.
Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.
With people watching in mind, you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running.
Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.
You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?
But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.
Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?
He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.
What a creep.
It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking.
Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild.
So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.
Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.
Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way.
But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.
Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?
Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.
“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.
After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket.
He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”
You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”
The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”
The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.
“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”
The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.
“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.”
Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.
“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right?
The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.
“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman.
Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway.
You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.
Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he?
And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark.
Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another, you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.
As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week.
“I figured,” you say lightly enough.
He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”
You put your hands into your pockets and look around you.
“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”
His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place. “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”
You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.
“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.”
Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.
But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested.
“And what would you imagine for me?”
The question is unexpected.
“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe?
“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.”
He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way.
“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”
Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story.
Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.
I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no.
So you give it.
At that, he finally smiles again.
“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
--
“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”
Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.
He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes.
His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness.
Jake Jensen died screaming.
--
Friday
You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night.
The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.
“Hello again.”
Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.
“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”
But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?
Better to fill the silence again.
“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”
Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.”
You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”
It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”
A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”
He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.
Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse.
You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.
It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.
The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night.
When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.
But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.
“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too.
“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”
Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.”
You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.
“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.”
Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”
The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place.
Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream.
Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.
“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”
Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them.
Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.
Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger.
“There--look! Look!”
Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.
But now--there’s no one there.
“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.
“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts.
Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.
“You’re all right. I’m here.”
He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”
The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand.
Chrollo smiles.
“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.
And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do?
But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.
“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”
Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.
A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all.
“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”
Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind.
--
The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.
Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.
No one did.
Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me?
The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.
This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth.
Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.
The husband, like the wife, would be shared.
Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.
There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.
There would be enough to gorge.
--
Saturday:
Three people are dead.
You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.
Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.
People die all the time. Sure. But… dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd.
Yet now, in one morning, there are three.
Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.
And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.
“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.
“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”
Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.
Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.
If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?
Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.
It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.
And you’d be seeing him again tonight.
They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad.
You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.
So.
You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight.
And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--
What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?
--
You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days.
There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).
You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date.
Fuck.
“Daydreaming again?”
The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school.
He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.
Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.
“Are you all right?”
Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way.
“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”
Chrollo hums.
“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.”
Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”
Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news.
“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.
“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”
You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.
“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”
For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game.
You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.
Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.
You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”
“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival.
The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes.
You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.
“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.
But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”
Dear.
You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again.
This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him?
It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose.
He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.
And he’s staring straight up at you.
You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!”
And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.
Your goosebumps remain.
“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.
Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look.
“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”
Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit.
“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”
“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”
At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.
He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.
You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.
Things will be normal soon.
When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.
“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”
You don’t mind at all.
“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”
Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you.
“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.
Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights.
“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.
“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”
“Clever,” he says.
--
The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.
Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay.
This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.
Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind.
“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”
You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.
“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”
How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.
“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes.
“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you.
“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest.
He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”
With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.
The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less.
“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.
Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival.
Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.
It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.
It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening.
But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it?
You ask him, this time.
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”
This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.
--
Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags.
Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.
Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water.
“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it. “The waterfall adds a nice touch.”
The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess.
The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled.
“It came highly recommended.”
--
Sunday: The Final Day
Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.
Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex.
You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.
But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room.
Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--
But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.
Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand.
Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note.
Dear--
Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.
I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.
Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.
The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.
It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.
But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong. That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.
But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.
It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.
Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.
Somehow, you don’t believe that. You just know.
Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--
And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?
Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all.
--
You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused.
Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t).
Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.
It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that.
Reality sucks sometimes.
You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural.
You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.
Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.
Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.
“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.
“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify.
You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.”
Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.
“We don’t have to part, you know.”
It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”
Chrollo finally smiles at you.
“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”
The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.
But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments.
“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.
This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue.
Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.
Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game.
Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming.
“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.”
That would be nice.
“I’d like that.”
And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.
If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.
--
The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all.
What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?
The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.
All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.
Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face.
“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.
Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?
“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.
He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--
It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--
“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?
When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.
“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.
You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.
“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”
“I am,” is all he says.
You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.
“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”
Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense.
“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.
“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.”
An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--
“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken.
His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”
Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.
You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him.
“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”
Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway. You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.
You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--
“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?
But you take his hand anyway.
“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.”
His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.
This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach.
“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd.
Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust.
“And miss the grand finale?”
You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--
“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do?
He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving.
--
Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.
Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.
You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.
You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t.
Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…
All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms.
And he’s looking right at you.
“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.
But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.
“What is it, love?”
The nickname doesn’t even register.
“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?”
Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police.
“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.”
“What do you…”
Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving.
Your eyes dart over the crowd.
There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.
And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.
Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic.
“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”
Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.
“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.
Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.
The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.
“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”
Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch.
The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage.
There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.
And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.
It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.
Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve.
You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood.
That’s not all he hit. The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.
You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.
Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies.
He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.
“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!”
He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you.
He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.
“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?”
Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!”
You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.
There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.
You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.
There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there.
Standing in front of you.
Close enough to touch.
Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.
He’s got fangs.
Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck.
They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires.
There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.
If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.
But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.
You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.
You had to hide. But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.
Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.
It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.
The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.
You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years.
The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you.
No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away.
You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:
He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.
You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.
Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason, you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway.
A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope.
You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.
The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.
It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below.
They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways.
All of them have blood around their mouths.
Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up.
You don’t wake up.
Instead, you hear a metal clang.
Then another.
And another.
Someone is coming up the stairs.
Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.
The metal clangs again, and again, and again.
He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now.
Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--
It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs.
It’s Chrollo.
It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises.
“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”
Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”
You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow.
There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.
You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm.
“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.
Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.
The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.
Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.
Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.
Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man.
“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”
There were many things you might have said in this moment. Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is:
“Huh?”
And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers.
Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material.
In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all.
When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while.
He’s a vampire.
“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically.
You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.
He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.
In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.
He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.
When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.
Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy.
“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?”
The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.
And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.
“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin.
At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.
“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.”
Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--
“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.”
Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts.
Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.
“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest.
“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.
The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.
Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--
He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole.
You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.
When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s.
“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.”
He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”
Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him?
And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.
“Like hell,” you mutter.
Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.
“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”
You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper.
“Like. Hell.”
The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered.
But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.
You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.
You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire?
You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground.
Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.
Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not.
Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this.
Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.
It’s Chrollo who speaks.
“I would like an apology for your behavior.”
If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.
And he wants an apology?
You want him to go away. To not be real.
You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.
So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.
Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once.
When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping.
“F…fuck you.”
Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood.
Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:
“Want me to do it, boss?”
Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.
Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.
“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”
Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.
The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment.
Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--
There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.
When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.
Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up.
It’s not like you could run, anyway.
At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them.
Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water.
“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.”
The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.
Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick.
Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.
He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper.
“Are you going to kill me now?”
Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.
“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.
“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”
He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.
“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy. “Please. Please.”
His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous.
He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”
Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t.
“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”
You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely.
You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes.
And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand. Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.
You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?
There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood.
The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too?
Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.
A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.
But what did you know about vampires, anyway?
You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.
At least, you think, this is finally over.
--
You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.
You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open.
The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.
You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think.
The world seems to come into more focus then.
You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.
Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.
How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?
Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood.
You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.
Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.
Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.
“You’re finally awake, I see.”
You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run?
Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”
Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.
“Where… are we?”
If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help.
“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”
Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find?
You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry.
“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry.
“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”
“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.”
Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.
Eternity.
“Did you… am I… did you make me--”
Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film.
He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort.
“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”
You shiver. From fear, and from cold.
Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.
“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?”
You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.
He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness.
“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you.
And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down.
It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up, you find that you simply can’t make your body do it. You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.
“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”
Love.
You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.
But neither do you.
Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this.
The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down.
It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world.
Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference.
#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere#afterwitch writes#this fic is my baby /wraps it in a blanket
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FAKE DATING ROOMMATES — choi seungcheol x reader
summary: in which choi seungcheol becomes your roommate and fake boyfriend in one fell swoop. and you still don't know how it happened.
note: fake dating college au with one of my faves, scoups! with a mix of roommate au because apprently i love mixing tropes. i might make this a series if people want to? i don't know yet
buy me a ko-fi?
next
"What were you thinking?"
"I was panicking!" You said, trying to walk away from your best friends, but Chan, Seungkwan, and Vernon followed you anyways.
"So you said Choi Seungcheol was your boyfriend?! I didn't even know you guys knew each other," Chan said.
"We don't, the closest interaction we had was when he bumped into me and said sorry," you said, miserably.
You were not having the greatest of days. First off, you had gone to class without knowing there was a test, therefore you didn't have time to study. Then, you missed your bus to go to the coffee shop where your friends worked so you decided to walk instead of waiting for the next bus which was going to take an hour to come.
And the cherry on top, the tip of the iceberg, the one thing that could possibly make you break down and not in a fun way, was encountering your ex.
Admittedly, you have made some bad decisions in your life. But the worst one of them all was your ex. Your friends tried warning you about him, how he was toxic and narcissistic, but you didn't listen.
Until he decides to dump you and leave you in the dust after you guys had just bought an apartment together. Yeah, wasn't your greatest moment.
Anyways, when you saw him, you practically froze.
"You're dating Seungcheol?" Your ex questioned.
You suddenly felt exposed, crossing your arms, shrugging then said, "Is it that so unbelievable I'm dating him?"
"I mean, I've seen the people he's dated, and you're not exactly his type," he tried explaining, but nothing he said could've made things better.
"So you're saying I'm not pretty enough to be dating him?" You asked.
"I'm not saying that, I'm sorry you're interpreting it that way. I'm saying—" he tried saying, but he was cut off.
"I'm dating him and honestly, I don't really care whether or not you believe me," You angrily said with a glare.
"I hope you're prepared," Vernon said, patting you on the shoulder after you finished recounting what happened with your ex.
"What? Why?" You asked.
The three of them looked at you as if you were crazy, and you were wondering the same thing about yourself.
"Your ex is probably the biggest gossip on campus. He'll probably tell people about your supposed relationship with Seungcheol and then it'll spread. Then Seungcheol will hear about his relationship with a girl he's barely interacted with!" Seungkwan explained.
"Shhhh! People will hear about Seungcheol and I's a relationship being fake!" You said, putting your finger in front of your mouth in a 'Sh!' gesture.
"YOU AREN'T—" Chan tried saying, but Vernon cut him off by putting his hand on his mouth to shut him up.
"Why didn't you say one of us was your boyfriend?" Vernon questioned, and you fought the urge to laugh hysterically.
"Kwan, you and I are more like brother and sister. Vernon, there has never been a moment where I've seen you beyond a best friend. And Chan, I barely even tolerate you half the time!" You replied. (You were not serious about Chans' (for the most part)).
"I didn't want to date you anyways," Chan grumpily said, crossing his arms which made you roll his eyes at his dramatics.
"What if Seungcheol wants to talk to you about the relationship he never knew about?" Seungkwan questioned.
"I guess I'm going to have to do the right thing," you said.
"Which is?"
"Pretend I don't know what he's talking about," you confidentially replied.
"I really hope this backfires in her face," Chan commented.
You tried lunging across the table to attack him, but Seungkwan held you back and Chan hid from behind Vernon, who looked like he'd be anywhere but where he was right now.
It was one of the rare times you were alone. Seungkwan had a class, Dino was in a Dance Club meeting, and Vernon was at his house, sleeping. So, as a result, you decided to go out on your own and eat.
You were in the middle of shoving a forkful of noodles when Choi Seungcheol decided to take the empty seat in front of you. "So, when did we become boyfriend and girlfriend?" He casually asked.
Your first instinct was to try and explain yourself, but in the heat of the moment you forgot that you were in the middle of eating, so when you tried speaking, you started choking on your noodles.
Seungcheol's calm manner turned panicky when he saw you were choking and it was because of him. "I shouldn't have interrupted you in the middle of your meal! I'm so fucking sorry! Shit!" he said, grabbing a bunch of napkins and giving them to you.
You struggled for a bit, grabbing the offered napkins and eventually, you were able to get the noodles down. "How did you find out?" you finally asked.
"Well, Jeonghan told Seokmin, who told Hoshi, who told Joshua, who told Jun, who told Minghao, who told Woozi, who told Mingyu, who told Wonwoo, who told me," Seungcheol said.
"What?" you asked, not following any of that.
"Jeonghan heard—"
"You know what, I don't need to hear it again because I won't be able to understand anyways," you said.
"But I can explain!" you said, and he looked at you to go on.
"Oh, you actually want me to explain? Uh, well, okay. Well my ex, who broke up with me and left me to pay for an apartment I have no idea how to pay for, said I wasn't pretty enough to be dating you! And honestly, I got kind of insecure when he said that because I know I'm not always supermodel ready, but I'm pretty and my personality brings people in! Anyways—"
"You need a roommate?" Seungcheol cut you off.
"Really? I just told you one of my deepest insecurities and you care about whether or not I have an empty room in my apartment?" You deadpanned.
"I have an idea and it might be both of your problems," Seungcheol ignored you.
"Really? What possible problem you might have that I could solve?" you asked, suspicious.
"If I fake date you, let me become your roommate," Seungcheol proposed.
"I'm sorry, but I need to make sense of it in my brain," you said, and he nodded as if giving you the floor.
"I just made up a complete lie and told my ex we were dating, and you want to fake date and live with me?" You said.
"I need a place to live and you have an empty room,"
"What's wrong with where you live right now?"
"I don't think I could live with Seokmin and Soonyoung always coming home drunk and somehow they've kidnapped a cat even if there are no stray cats around. Then Wonwoo adopts the cat and suddenly we have seven cats in the house," Seungcheol said, and the distressed face he was making made you want to laugh.
"Really? Seven?"
"Maybe not seven but I swear they multiply and our kitchen is filled with food for the cats," he said.
"We're getting distracted. I need a room and you need a boyfriend. Why not hit two birds with one stone?"
"How would this even work?"
"Well, you've done most of the work and most of the campus already knows about our relationship. Moving in would only solidify our relationship," Seungcheol said.
"What about when we inevitably break up? Would we still be roommates or..?"
"I never thought about that,"
"Really? But you thought of the rest of the plan so thoroughly it's nearly foolproof!" You sarcastically said.
"Hey, you need me just as much as I need you!" He said, and you sighed, knowing that it was true.
"This'll work?"
"Well... I don't know about that, but it'll be something," Seungcheol said.
"Maybe I should've said Chan was my boyfriend,"
"Who's Chan and why is he already stealing my girlfriend?"
#seventeen fluff#seungcheol fluff#choi seungcheol fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#choi seungchol x reader#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#scoups fic#seungcheol fic#scoups scenario#scoups imagines#seventeen scoups
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—I'LL NEVER WIN YOUR HEART.
pairing: alexia putellas x reader
synopsis: aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to alexia.
word count: 2k
tw: aNGST, spicy stuff, enemies to lovers to ……….?
a/n: wow has it really been a month since i last posted that's insane (i'm not being sarcastic i'm actually so shook at how fast time passes).
now playing:
Her eyebrows narrowed. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes lasered in like a hawk.
Even from across the club, several of your teammates knew to get the hell out of her way when she made a beeline towards you.
Alexia was scary when she was angry. There was an untouchable force to her that made one cower under her steely gaze. You used to feel the effect of it, once upon a time, but recently it was almost a weekly occurrence that she would direct her hardened gaze at you.
And now, as she fixed that deathly glare onto you, you felt your arm being yanked just as you were about to kiss the beautiful stranger you met mere minutes ago.
“What the fuck, Alexia!” Admittedly, you were buzzed, and any obstruction to your enjoyment would irritate you.
“Come with me,” she gritted her teeth.
“No! Let me go!”
She tugged on your arm and dragged you away despite your protests. The bathroom at the back of this club was filthy, and the door barely did anything to block out the thumping music outside, but Alexia pushed you into one of the stalls anyway, caging you in between her arms on either side of your head.
You had half a heart to slap her across the face when she shoved you against the divider and kissed you like a barbarian, lips and teeth clashing against one another in a heated mess. She had no right to do this, but her entitlement made it so you were trapped in her grasp again.
The worst part was that you enjoyed it, very much, especially when she went on her knees to do what she always did best.
It happened not too dissimilar to how it started. Your frustration mixed with her only ensured you both collided in the most spectacular way. You remembered arguing with her after a horrible game, both of you throwing blame at each other. It happened so quickly, that before you knew it, your hatred had turned to lust. Hatefucking, as one might call it. Suddenly, all you could think about each day was how much you hated Alexia and couldn't wait to fall into bed with her.
“You can’t just do that and pretend like nothing happened.”
Your words came out rushed as you were still trying to catch your breath. Alexia exited the stall and went to wash her hands, doing so with a frustrating nonchalance.
She met your gaze in the mirror. “Can’t I?”
You scoffed. “Why do I bother? La Reina never gets off her high horse, does she? You’ve never respected me, ever.”
“That’s not true.” Her eyes flickered, and you thought you could see unspoken words behind them.
“Then what was that earlier?” You asked, irritated.
“I should ask you the same question,” she said firmly. “I thought we were fine. And now I see you grinding on some girl at the club? I mean—what is this, Y/N?”
It was always like that with Alexia, and if she didn’t say what she wanted to say, then you couldn’t help her.
“It’s not like you care,” you gritted your teeth. “I hope you had fun with Olga, by the way.”
Now it was her turn to scoff. “She’s my friend.”
“She was also your ex.”
“Can’t I be friends with my ex? And who are you to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with?”
She was right. You had no place in her life to be telling her that. It was purely your desire, or a lack thereof, to hold a special place in her heart, but maybe you were foolish to wish for it when there has been so much history between you.
You chewed on your bottom lip, a habit you had since you were young. You suddenly felt the bathroom walls closing in on you—you needed to get out of there quickly.
Wordlessly, you shoved past her and returned to the club, the music once again deafening and pumping in your chest. You expelled a breath; the cute stranger was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Patri and Pina, with whom you came. That’s fine, there was an entire nightclub’s worth of people. You would find at least one person who would make you forget how much you despised Alexia and—maybe for the night—how much you loved her.
The story could have gone so differently. You two were similar in age, grew within the ranks of the Spanish youth teams together, then played at Barcelona together. You both played in midfield and younger players looked to you for guidance and leadership. Yet, it was known among your teammates that the two of you couldn’t stand to be in the same room. Ever since you were young, your similar play styles and clashing personalities ensured that you always butt heads on the field, and eventually, off it too. You grew up with this hatred of Alexia, as she did of you, but you could barely remember why. You were brazen and Alexia was cold, and that never worked for either of you.
It seemed she had had enough of your attitude one day, and shoved you so hard in training you thought you might have sprained an ankle. Some of the other girls noticed her distaste for you and started to distance themselves to gain favor with her. Then, Alexia became the best player in Spain, and you were always in her shadow. The media called you her ‘healthy rivalry’, even when you played for the same club. If you didn’t hate her as much as you did, they all ensured that you would never be able to get along ever again.
There was a memory that you buried deep inside, but it would easily surface again on nights like this. It made you question everything you’ve felt for Alexia, this thorn in your side that has never let you know peace
It was the summer of 2012 at a Spain U-19 camp. You had barely gotten any sleep the night before you came because it was your first call-up to represent your country. Alexia, of course, had become a familiar face in the team by the time you arrived. She wasn’t seen at breakfast one morning, and a coach said that she was dealing with personal matters. What you didn’t anticipate was finding her sitting alone by the steps of an entrance bawling her eyes out. You had tried to retreat, but Alexia had looked up before you could go.
“S-Sorry, I’ll just—”
“Mi papá . . .” Her voice was quiet like she didn’t want you to hear. Then, she burst into tears again. You had never seen Alexia like this, so distraught and vulnerable. The friends she liked to keep around were nowhere to be seen either. She never liked to appear weak in front of others.
Against your better judgment, you approached and sat next to her. “What happened?”
Exhaling shakily, she answered. “He was very sick. I just got the call from my mom.”
Your mouth hung open, unable to form words. As Alexia smeared her tears away with the back of her sleeve, she suddenly appeared younger and unlike the captain that you’ve come to know her. She was just a girl, who’d had something terrible happen to her, and you would be the biggest jerk not to push whatever you had between you aside.
“I’m sorry,” you only managed to say.
She said nothing and rested her face on the inside of her elbows.
“I’m sure he was very proud of you.”
“Please don’t say anything,” she breathed out, making you wince.
“Okay.”
Alexia sniffled. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Okay,” you nodded slightly. You didn’t like talking about your feelings either. It was the first thing you found Alexia and you had in common.
You started to feel sick. Your head spun like you had just stepped out of a washing machine, but still, you reached for the passing bartender who looked at you with patronizing eyes.
“Another.”
“Y/N, that’s enough.”
You pushed her hand away, mentally cursing at her interruption.
“Fuck off.”
“I’m gonna have to explain to Jona why you’re still shitfaced at training tomorrow.”
“Fuck. Off. I don’t fucking care.”
Then, you heard her say something she had never said to you before. “Please. Let’s go home.”
The truth was, you never wanted to protest her. Maybe the years have softened you, but you didn’t want to admit how much you craved her affection. There were times when you despised her and thought her the lowest form of a human being.
“Please don’t do this,” you pleaded. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as you watched her frantically spring out of bed.
“I—uh, have to go. I’m meeting someone for lunch.” She replied, reaching for her pants strewn across the floor.
“Ale, I’m sorry . . .” You managed a pathetic whimper, tears threatening to fall. “Can we just pretend I never said anything?”
How is it that she had made you feel so euphoric merely moments later, and now you felt like you had hit rock bottom? Only because those stupid words slipped out of your mouth.
. . . But was it such a crime to tell her that you loved her, when it was your truth?
You learned the hard way that Alexia didn’t want what you wanted. Maybe it was just her, or maybe it was you, and she didn’t want anything to do with you. If that were true, you were foolish to think for even a second that she would. You never gave her much to like anyway.
But still, you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have any feelings for her. But aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to Alexia.
She had brought you back to your apartment, supporting you by holding you close and guiding you inside gradually.
The moment you hit the mattress, you groaned at the snugness of your own bed. Your eyes were barely open, but you saw the way she pulled your shoes off your feet and coaxed you to sit up so she could shed your outer coat.
But that was it. She was afraid to help you further, as it would resurface emotions Alexia thought should be buried, emotions that reminded her of sleepless nights and passion.
“Why are you so quick to get away from me?” You mumbled into your pillow.
You heard her sigh. “I brought you home, didn’t I?”
“Am I really that detestable that you wouldn’t even look at me?”
Her eyes met yours, but unlike earlier in the night, they now held a softness. “You know I don’t hate you. I never did.”
“Then stay.” You whispered, your head still spinning, but all you could focus on was her. “Stay with me. Please, we won’t do anything. I just don’t want to be alone.”
You didn’t care that you were begging her. You were tired of being pulled from end to end, and it was so much easier to love than to hate her.
You thought she would laugh in your face, pack her things and leave. Yet, when you opened your eyes again, she was lying in bed next to you, under the cover and all. She had changed into your clothes, so much more time had passed than you had thought.
“Go to sleep. We have training tomorrow,” Alexia whispered, her lips brushing your forehead softly.
You obliged, nuzzling your head into her chest as you let the comfort of her embrace lull you to sleep. You were too tired to fight it, to tell her no, that you would talk to her seriously about the two of you, even if you were drunk. It wasn’t the first time you had fallen for Alexia’s lies; all the other times, she left you in the dirt after giving you her everything for you to pick up the pieces yourself.
You hated her because you loved her. But maybe this is enough, you thought before sleep took over, just for tonight.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas imagines#alexia putellas angst#alexia putellas#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagines#woso angst#Spotify
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Pretty Girl [Reneé Rapp x Reader]
Reneé had been crushing on you for weeks, but you had a boyfriend. She knew you were straight, or at least, she thought so..
Warning : Mentions of smut
[Based on Pretty Girls by Reneé Rapp.]
Part 2
"You know," your hand traces Reneé's chest, "If I liked girls, I'd definitely have fucked you by now.." your voice sultry, whispering in her ear.
Reneé pants as you mess with her. "Oh yeah? What about your boyfriend?" she says, biting her lip.
"He wouldn't mind," well, shit.
You kiss her, full on the mouth, hands stroking her cheek. Reneé gasps into the kiss. She's liked you for weeks, because you were deliciously hot.
It was her suggestion that you both go to a club, and she knew you were "straight" but couldn't help but have the need to kiss you. And well, it was happening now.
You'd think that Reneé'd be flattered, well, it's pathetic because you're right.
Your hands slip up her skirt as she gasps into your mouth. Your mouth trails kisses down her jaw, to her neck as she whimpers. "You know, you're surprisingly good at this for a straight girl,"
You pull her in by her collar, kissing her neck and then pushing her up against a wall. Her hands travel to your ass, making you moan against her.
You both went home together that day, having an amazing "girls night."
Reneé knew you were wasted and that that night meant nothing to you. After all, it was late, you were drunk, of course you wanted to have a taste of a pretty girl.
She expected nothing more, however her mind kept wondering back to that night. Unexpectedly, you and Reneé kept hooking up, she took you back to her house, you pulled her in by her tie, slammed her against a door, and shoved your tongue in her mouth.
Another time, she pinned you to the wall, her fingers ramming in and out of your clit as you moaned her name softly.
Despite all this, Reneé was your dirty little secret, and of course she wanted more, she really liked you. But, every time she tried to talk about it, the conversation was classic, she could predict it line by line.
You had a reputation as a "straight girl", you had a boyfriend, you were nowhere near in love with the girl as much as she was with you. She'd claim she liked a straight jacket, but you wouldn't even so much as hold her hand in public.
Another time, your hands slipping into her pants as she gasped, "Oh shit," you giggled. You always acted like you guys never hooked up and for Reneé, it was a blessing and a curse. But in reality, you loved having her at your mercy, you loved touching her, you loved the noises she made, but you were just doing this for fun, after all, you were straight, weren't you?
"Wanna go clubbing?" She smiled, against your neck. "Yes, but my boyfr-" you started but she cut you off. "Yeah, your boyfriend's cute," she said, rolling her eyes, pulling you in by your neck to kiss you.
You gave her a look as Reneé realised. "Oh shit, yeah, he can come too."
Reneé went to get drinks for the three of you. When she came back, her heart broke a bit, there you were, kissing your boyfriend in public, his hands touching everywhere she used to touch.
She bit her lip, keeping the drinks down and running out the room, she knew you had a boyfriend, she knew she was gonna get hurt, but she couldn't help but love you.
You saw her face and excused yourself, you ran after her. "Reneé, listen to me, please" you came after her, but she refused to talk to you.
"You know what, you say that I'm your favorite with your hands in between my thighs, but you'll be his in the morning anyway."
"What? What're you talking about? We both agreed to this being for fun, you know it too. I'm straight!" You said, in disbelief.
She chuckled bitterly, looking at you with teary eyes.
"Keep on pretending pretty girl."
#gxg#gxg imagine#smut#mean girls#regina george x y/n#renee rap#renee rapp#renee rapp x reader#lesbian#wlw#sapphic#reneé rapp#reneé rapp x reader#regina george#leighton murray#leighton murray x reader#netflix#imagine#fluff#angst#wlw smut#oneshot#drabble
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 hi, can you please make a story where reader is young like 19 or 20 and everyone loves her and she’s a pretty close friend with basically everyone in the wwe and one day she has a match with like Nia or someone else and she gets injured so bad that everyone around her is worried sick.? maybe she has a closer feeling with the judgement day or Jey but like if you can mention more wrestlers it would be amazing. Thank you so much. I love your writing 
i love this type of requests cause it makes me travel back in time when i was 13 and i used to play wrestling with my best friend (don’t do this at home) and i remember everyone loving me…anyway
sorry for making nia the bad one!
the judgment day x reader (platonic) / jey uso x reader (platonic)
home is where you belong
you never thought you would find it but you did. the place where you felt safe and loved, the place that you called home.
you’ve been wrestling since you were fifteen and once you got eighteen wwe signed you in. two years later now you were living your dream;
travelling from city to city, having sleepovers with your wrestling friends, gossiping about what people you shipped together, talking nonsense with seth rollins and having becky teasing him, watching and learning new techniques from jey uso, training with the judgment day.
everything was a dream for you.
the fans loved you. even if they weren’t fans about your character, they still liked your persona and your positive energy. you had no enemies, you pretended of course, but you had no enemies at all.
many elders took you under their protective wing and you couldn’t be more grateful.
you we are currently training with rhea as you had a big match against nia and you wanted to be ready. you both already knew that the judgement they were gonna help you win this match because, according to the script they had to ruin this moment for you and for nia, but you didn’t care because you knew how fun it was going to be.
so you were ready to kick her ass.
nia, otherwise, wasn’t as happy as you thought. the idea of losing against some teenager like you made her blood boil. she was more experienced than you so why would you had to win? plus, by getting helped by the judgment day?
she didn’t like the idea but she didn’t tell you.
she had something else in mind.
so you were getting ready, your make up flawless, your hair perfectly posing over your shoulders and a smile that could make happy anyone who met you.
you were so ready.
you heard the “boos” when nia entered the ring and you heard everyone cheering for you when you entered. that’s how it was supposed to be so why did she have an envious look in her eyes?
you pretended it was nothing and you started the match as it was supposed to go.
ten minutes later, the judgment day music echoing through the arena, just like the script said.
rhea distracting nia.
following exactly what the script said.
so what did go wrong?
nia attacked rhea. it wasn’t in the script but rhea knew how to handle situations like that.
you could tell by damian’s look that this wasn’t supposed to happen but you took it as an opportunity to distract nia and make your final move, move that made you win that match.
earlier on the schedule but still, you had your win.
“someone beat your ass…” rhea screamed into the microphone, unleashing mixed reactions through the crowd. everyone cheering for you because of your win, not everyone was happy with the way you won but still, you better than nia.
that set her off.
she didn’t like the idea of a teenager beating her but she hated even more the way the crowd laughed at her face, making her seem weak, not strong enough.
the judgment day were leaving the arena, just like the script told them to do after your victory, so what didn’t go as planned?
you were still in the ring, fans clapping for you, the referee still held your hand high and as you were about the leave, nia hit you behind your back.
this wasn’t prepared.
you fell to your knees and before you could do something she dragged you through your hair into the middle of the ring.
“nia?” you said almost too terrified.
the referee tried to get into the two of you but nia pushed her away, hurting her.
“who do you think you are?” she said hoovering you with her body.
“nia what?” you weren’t understanding. why was she doing that? she was your friend, she wasn’t supposed to hurt you.
“don’t act so dumb…” she whispered before attacking you.
for real this time.
nothing prepared.
she was really hurting you. your face first, then your stomach, she kept hurting you, punching you over and over until you couldn’t feel your body anymore.
your head and nose were bleeding.
referees weren’t able to stop her either.
rhea and damian were the first one to intervene when they saw that the referee couldn’t stop her.
rhea attacking her, the referees, trying to get between the two of them, so damian so that as an opportunity to shield you with his body. he could handle nia attacking him.
“damian?” you almost cried.
“hey…shh it’s okay, i got you” he said, slowly moving your hair out of your face and it was in that moment that he saw your bleeding face.
“dam…it hurts” you said clenching your stomach. he felt his heart breaking. the way you were clenching your chest, the way your hands trembled a little, your bleeding face and your eyes full of tears.
he was mad. furious.
“i know…ssshhh…we will take care of you i promise” he whispered.
the crowd was cheering, assuming everything was scripted, but there was an uncomfortable silence going behind the scenes.
everyone watching what was happening in horror.
becky had tears in her eyes and seth was trying to keep her and himself calm because he was mad. cody was speechless. jey ran out of his locker room just to be stopped by the security. dom and finn paralysed in their steps as they were watching everything happening right before their eyes.
that’s what it went wrong.
thankfully, rhea and referees were able to drag nia away from the ring. she knew she went too far but her pride was something she wasn’t willing to give up.
damian was still in the ring with you as medical staff came and assisted you.
you already fell unconscious when damian lifted you up in his arms and dragged you down onto the stretcher waiting for you backstage.
you were rushed to the hospital and honestly no one felt like continuing the show but they had to. jey was next but all he wanted to do was rush to the hospital and stay by your side.
you didn’t even realised that when you woke up you weren’t in some hotel room but you were in a hospital bed. your head still pounding when you remembered what happened.
the doctor told you that you had a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder,a broken wrist, a sprained ankle and a heavy concussion. not to count all the bruising and red spots forming all over your body.
then what you didn’t want to hear : no wrestling for at least four months.
your body needed to rest and heal first.
you were trying to hold in all the tears but eventually let them out when the doctor left your room. you were supposed to have your first main event at wrestlemania and now that dream was gone.
while still crying a soft knock echoed through the room.
damian first, then rhea with the rest of the judgment day.
“hey…” she whispered but her heart broke when she saw the tears in your eyes “why are you crying pretty girl?” she asked sitting on the chair next to your bed, followed by the boys who sat on the small couch right beside the window.
“bye bye wrestlemania…” you said with a broken voice.
everyone knew how much you’ve been waiting and wanting that moment.
“i’m so sorry y/n…” she said softly.
“its just it’s not fair…” you whispered “why did she do that? i thought she was my friend…i would have never done that to her rhea…never”
“i know love…because you know your value, you’re kind and sweet and loving and unfortunately you’ve met someone who thought about her ego and her ego only…” she said smiling sadly at you.
“what matters now is that you rest and take your time to heal” damian joined the conversation “you scared everyone back there…” he said making you smile a little.
“i didn’t mean to…”
“we know…or you could tell them that yourself” finn joked.
“what?” you whispered.
“everyone’s here…jey almost punched the doctor when they wouldn’t let him see you” dom laughed “becky is here with seth, cody and shayna are here too…girl you even scared gunther”
“i don’t believe it…” you laughed.
“we can make you believe that” jey said entering the room with a beautiful bouquet of red roses. everyone followed him too.
you were relieved in seeing so many people caring for you in a way not even your friends cared about. you felt loved and appreciated.
you’ve spent the next hour talking nonsense with them all and you almost forgot about the wrestling problem thing.
almost.
when everyone left for your check up with the doctor, the only one who stayed was jey.
he was the only one who noticed the shift in your mood and he knew what was like staying away from what you love do the most, so if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was willing to do that, if you needed a friendly advice, he was willing to do that too.
“care to tell me what’s on your mind sweetheart?” he asked when the doctor left.
“i’m going to miss all of these…four months of not seeing you all days, no wrestling, no wrestlemania and probably no summerslam too…it’s just, i feel useless and empty not doing what i love jey” you confessed.
“you’re not useless at all, and it’s normal to feel nostalgic right now but it’ll pass and i promise you that you’ll be on your feet for when summerslam comes! i promise you” he said sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder - the healthy one - “i wish i could have done something to stop her but i was the useless one…i hated seeing you in so much pain…she lost her mind and finally she lost her job too”
“what?” you whispered.
“yup! got fired…you know you could sue her right?” jey asked.
“i would never do that…”
“i know…you’re too kind for that…what she did was wrong and completely unacceptable but i’m glad you’re here…” he said softly kissing your head.
“ill be here for a long long time…this is my home after all” you smiled, making jey laugh too.
and it was in that moment that you truly realised how important those weird people were for you, and how important you were for them.
#wwe#wwe x reader#wwe imagine#wwe x you#wwe imagines#wwe one shot#wwe x oc#damian priest#wwe x original character#wwe x y/n#rhea ripley one shot#rhea ripley x reader#damian priest x oc#damian priest x reader#the judgment day x you#the judgment day one shot#the judgment day x reader#damian priest x you#rhea ripley imagines#jey uso x y/n#jey uso angst#jey uso x reader#jey uso x you#jey uso x oc#finn balor x reader#wwe dominik mysterio#dirty dom#becky lynch#seth rollins x you#seth rollins x reader
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CUT THE CAMERAS!
The last thing you expected was to see your and your bf's names on the newest relationship reveal headline above a giant picture of you two hiding in a darkened alley sharing an ice cream..what now? (Part 3)
Part 2.
Part 1.
PAIRING: ot7
GENRE: fluff, crack, slight angst
WARNINGS: none
WORD COUNT: 600-700
NOTE: hii this was fun to write. Hope you enjoy
Requested masterlist
★ HEESEUNG:
actually fuming because there is no way a random reporter kept stalking him and exposed his relationship without your consent, it's less about him because he's worried about your reaction. Besides, he had created an entire plan to introduce the new status and the fact that someone spoilt is really gets to him. He wanted a special announcement, maybe even a letter of how much he adores you and loves his fans yada yada. The last thing he expected to see was for someone to take away his reaveal from him. When the anger dies down, he just knows that he wants to go public. There is nothing to be scared of, he never liked meeting in secret anyway. Doesn't deny the allegations, accepts them with his whole chest.
★ JAY:
he texts you saying "it's fine" and "to relax" but he's crying shaking panicking. He can't let his girl see all that because he needs to be rational about it, at least try to pretend he's not seconds away from sprinting to your dorm to check if you're fine. But in the end he'll be actually cool about it, after speaking to you about it, he'll end up listening to your decision. Whatever you say comes first for Jay, whatever your decision is will be his. After the shock settles, he'll actually be cool headed about it. There's nothing to hide and he is confident in himself and you, you handle yourself well and so does he. After he agrees with the rumours, he'll be private about the relationship but will slip small bits here and there.
★ JAKE:
he’s panicking because this was not on this New Year’s list. A part of him wants to pretend that nothing is wrong and the other wants to hide away until the hype dies down- but that’s not possible. So, with frazzled nerves, he picks up your call and asks you what you want to do, your decision will be his. Of course, it could be easy to deny it, pretend a couple of friends were hanging out yet a part of him wishes you want to agree with the rumours. He’s tired of hiding and pretending you don’t exist. He doesn’t care if the worlds collide or the sun burns everything, he wants to go public, even if it means being forced to say yes or no to fans who have been speculating ever since the news came out. Ultimately, he shares his opinion with you but will choose whatever you’re comfortable with because it’s not just his career that will be affected.
★ SUNGHOON:
at first, he’s over the moon to see people complimenting the pair and wishing the news to be true but when he sits down and lets the news digest, he feels sick. Someone snapping a picture of you when you were so vulnerable and unaware of what would happen the next day, it’s a horrible thought and although the picture includes him as well, he ignores how his privacy was overlooked and worries for you. he feels powerless because he should have known, he should have covered your face with his body but dwelling in regret won’t help anyone. So what he does is that yes! Park Sunghoon is dating one of the most spectacular idols but also someone is getting sued by him, his company and your company. Everyone sleeps happily.
★ SUNOO:
completely unfazed, checks the news, texts you good morning, and does his usual routine, moisturised, unbothered, relaxed. He has nothing to fear, he had prepared soft ground for the reveal, whether it was a reveal without his and his partner’s permission. He genuinely has nothing to fear because everyone has heard of friends to lovers and the number of times, he mentioned you and vice versa did not surprise anyone. Everyone was practically waiting for the announcement. News agencies can say whatever they want, and make up whatever narrative they can based on one picture, he knows that his and your response to the situation will matter more than some random news headline. So he waits for you to make your move and decide. In the end, going public doesn’t seem like a scary idea to you, especially when you know Sunoo had your back throughout.
★ JUNGWON:
one of the worst things that could ever happen because one, he was NOT mentally prepared for this and two, they did not ask for permission. Isn’t that illegal? Shouldn't this be illegal? Sure, he’s an idol but he’s also got a personal life. Immediately begins to wonder what went wrong, if he didn’t scan the environment well or whatever he can do to ensure nothing like this happens again. Does not text or check the time, he will call you and would prefer if you two can decide on the spot because he wants this to be dealt with now. Mulling it over and waiting to drag it out will only harm your career as nasty people will sprout random nonsense just for fun. After the decision has been made, he’ll consult his manager and no, he will not change it even if he gets pressurised to do so. It’s a mutual decision and he wants you two to be on the same page.
★ NIKI:
shocked for a minute, wants to be comical about it but instead chooses to think about it deeply. He has experienced first-hand how disgusting people on the internet are and it is no doubt that you have been a victim of them as well. He does like you and wants to be with you for a very very long time so accepting/rejecting the rumours is not his main priority, it’s his relationship. As much as he wishes he could spend time with you in public without masks, holding your hand without a worry in the world- he can’t. so unfortunately, he’s going to deny the allegations for your safety. Logically, neither you or him are ready nor established enough to face the heat. Whatever lies the companies can come up with, you two will agree and have to continue being secretive about it. Perhaps one day, Niki can sit next to you on camera, maybe even caress your hand and call you a nickname, but it’s not any time soon. He’ll have to make peace with playing subtle pranks on you.
Thank you so much for reading!
Please do not copy/translate/edit.
#k-labels#enha#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fluff#enhypen fics#enhypen reactions#enha drabbles#enha recations#enha imagines#heeseung x reader#jake sim x reader#park jay x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#heeseung fluff#park jay fluff#jake sim fluff#jaeyun fluff#sunghoon fluff#jungwon fluff#sunoo fluff#niki fluff#riki nishimura x reader#hana's work 》
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Reader as Alastor's Mother part 3
So I took a little while oops
Part 1!, Part 2!
𓋼 You brush his hair every morning. He pretends to find it annoying but he secretly loves it.
Whenever you'd brush his hair, you'd sometimes mention how short it was and that you couldn't do any hairstyles with it, which, on one hand, was good for his pride, but on the other hand, made you sad which also made him slightly sad. So he made the very rational decision to grow his hair out for you so that you could style it one day!
"Alastor, is your hair longer than before?"
"Hm? Is it?" he would never admit he did it for you!
𓋼 At one point, you were in the lobby with everyone else and you started wondering about Alastor's ears since he never actually mentioned anything, of course, you remembered Charlie's constant pleading to pet him, to which he always refused with his typical "Ha! No.", which made you more curious, if perhaps you could get away with it as his mother.
So, only naturally, you placed your hand atop his head and pet him, his ears lightly twitching. Charlie squealed. Of course she did.
"Oh my gosh! Can I do that too?!" she asked
"Haha! Absolutely not."
She wasn't very happy. She ended up pouting the entire day, Vaggie having to comfort her. To Charlie, it was like someone telling her not to pet a cute cat! Absolutely heartbreaking
𓋼 On that specific day, you also asked if he had a tail, and considering he had ears, it would make sense for there to be a tail too. Of course, silly Alastor was too embarrassed to answer in front of everyone, so he avoided the question!
"You're very positive today, Mother, did something good happen?"
"Nothing in particular, so about your tail-!"
"That's for me to know and you to… maybe, find out, Mother!"
You asked him about it again when you two weren't around the others, so he decided to show you! it was a nice revelation.
𓋼 You noticed that the shadow Alastor has following you around all the time, sometimes disappears, so you used that opportunity to go meet Lucifer as he invited you for tea countless times, and who are you to decline such a kind invitation?
When Alastor realised he couldn't find you anywhere in the hotel, he panicked and searched every inch of it multiple times, until Vaggie had finally had enough and asked him what happened.
"What are you doing, Alastor?"
"Searching for my Mother! She's gone missing, you see!" of course, he had a menacing look on his face.
"She mentioned she was going out for a while"
"Oh? And did she say… where?"
"Nope, well anyway, good luck!"
Yeah, Vaggie just left him. So he waited for you patiently at the hotel entrance. When you finally returned, he clung to you like his life depended on it, asking you many questions.
𓋼 I feel like whenever the Overlords had important, confidential, meetings, Alastor would immediately return to the hotel and tell you all about them, whether it be out of spite or fun. You definitely enjoyed knowing all the things going on in hell.
𓋼 You and Niffty put makeup on him when he was asleep and pinned his hair back (Alastor was pretending to sleep, just letting you two do your thing). Angel started laughing and giving him silly nicknames when he saw his hair, which inevitably caused him to shake his head very fast, removing the pin from his hair.
𓋼 Your first birthday with everyone. Of course, Alastor threw you a party. It was meant to be a surprise but considering he’s always with you, you found out because he was more secretive than before (you managed to guilt-trip him into telling you what he was hiding)
𓋼 For Christmas (if you celebrate it), you decorate Alastor with Christmas lights! He says he hates it but he definitely doesn’t, although it certainly made him a little bit scarier when he did that spooky thing with his eyes!
"Mother. Please do explain again why you decided to put christmas lights on me."
"You're more colourful this way!" you turned the lights on, so that now they were switching between multiple colours
Angel and Niffty ended up hanging a few baubles on his antlers too, before he noticed.
𓋼 Charlie had asked about your time alive so you began telling her, and everyone else who was listening, about some silly stories! When Alastor came into the lobby and heard you telling an embarrassing story about him, his ears lightly twitched and flattened against his head. He was just a little bit embarrassed.
Of course, he tried to leave again, unnoticed, however, the all-too bubbly charlie saw him and invited him to join.
"Alastor! [Name] was just telling us stories, come join us!"
"No"
"Alastor, darling, Charlie is being very kind! You need to be around these souls more! Come join."
Of course, he can't say no to you, so he ended up sitting by your side as you continued to tell the story about him, you lightly pet him and hugged him from time to time. Although his ears still stayed flat against his head.
𓋼 You wanted to make a flower crown, but since no flowers actually existed in hell, you had to make do with other things (paper). Yes, you made paper flowers and then turned them into a makeshift flower crown, which you then placed on top of Alastor's head.
"Mother?"
"Darling, I made you a paper flower crown!"
𓋼 Alternatively, you may've decided to sneak out again to find Lucifer.
"Luci, can you sneak us into Heaven?"
"Heaven?! Why?"
"I need flowers"
"Why would you need flowers?"
"To make Alastor a flower crown!"
Yeah, he wasn't too excited about that idea but he still agreed, although it did take a bit of… bribery…
"I'll… give you a kiss if you agree!"
"Let's go!" he opened the portal immediately and took you with him.
In the end, you got all the flowers you needed (after being chased out by Lute and Adam), so you were both… somewhere in hell, for sure.
"So… about what you said, before I got us into Heaven…"
"Oh, right!" You never specified where you'd kiss him so you simply kissed his cheek, he was a little disappointed but it's alright, you got Alastor a lovely flower crown!
𓋼 I feel like he would've been very afraid of spiders when he was alive, and then you were left with the task to exterminate any that entered your home (whether or not you were also afraid)
𓋼 You were quite a fan of new technology (though not completely obsessed), it made life far easier for you, though Alastor always 'confiscated' everything when he was around as he wasn't too keen on it.
"Mother, I don't see what you like about this device so much."
"It's simple to use and makes things quite a bit simpler than back when we were alive."
"I think it's pointless."
"Yes, you've always been a fan of radio… I see that obsession has stuck, even after death"
"It is not an obsession, Mother. I prefer 'fascination'!"
#hazbin hotel#reader insert#fem reader#alastor the radio demon#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor#angel dust#hazbin angel dust#hazbin hotel angel dust#charlie morningstar#charlie hazbin hotel#vaggie hazbin hotel#vaggie#headcanon#niffty#niffty hazbin hotel#nifty hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#lute hazbin hotel#adam hazbin hotel
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HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.
love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.
( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )
━━ part eight.
When you were ten, a boy at recess pulled on your ponytail. He yanked you around, laughed when you’d shouted for him to stop, and then only let you go when you’d begun to sob. Dalton had done your hair that morning and the little clip-in bow he’d added was askew, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t fix it. It was this, more than the actual pain of having your hair pulled, that made you inconsolable.
Logan found you crying beneath the jungle gym, surrounded by a gaggle of other girls all trying to help. He crouched down next to you, all skinny-armed and knobby-kneed, wiped your tears with the sleeve of his shirt, and asked you who’d done it.
Logan punched the boy in the face after you’d told him. He was sent to the principal’s office for his trouble, but that boy never messed with you again and it was the first time you realized that your brother would do anything for you.
He was grounded, too, and had to sit through a huge long spiel from your parents about using words instead of fists, but Dalton had given Logan a pat on the back and assured him that he’d done the right thing.
He hadn’t punched anyone for you since then, but in Switzerland Logan had been your lifeline. Whereas he was quickly befriending the other boys he was racing with, you struggled. There weren’t many girls who understood why you were always busy on the weekends, or why you couldn’t come over for sleepovers, or why you always had to turn down birthday party invitations— and subsequently, they didn’t want you around if all you did was bail anyway.
Dalton was at that point in his life when he thought he was too old to hang around his little sister, so Logan had been your best friend. He’d let you paint his nails in the hotel rooms before races, and then he’d help paint yours so you could match. He only let you practice makeup on him once, because the mascara wand poked his eye and he’d been too scared to try it after, but it was fun while it lasted. He took all your pictures for you, went with you when you wanted to try a new cafe or see a new movie, and even tried to follow along when you gossiped about boys.
You think back to that time and wish he were here with you now. Maybe he would punch Oscar, or maybe he’d just sit with you and let you paint his nails like you used to. What you really just want is your brother.
You want him to use his sleeve to wipe your tears again, and you want him to somehow make it all better like he always seems to know how to do.
You want to go home.
You feel so stupid. How could you believe he was ever interested in you? Of course he was just trying to forget it all happened, and anything else you interpreted as flirting or potential interest was probably just Oscar trying to be polite because that’s the type of person he is. He’d cut off his own hand if it meant not causing a scene. He was probably just trying to find a way to tell you that he doesn’t ever want to see you again and he can’t think of you as a friend anymore because he can somehow tell that the kiss meant more to you than it ever did to him, and he thinks it’s weird that you’re so attached to him, and he can’t stand being around you because just the idea of having to pretend to like you is appalling—
A sob bursts free and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the rest that follow.
Years of a friendship thrown away because of a stupid mistake you both made on a single night. You should’ve never listened to Sophia and Lando. You should’ve just pretended it never happened like Oscar was so keen on doing, and when he started distancing himself you should’ve taken it in stride and let it happen even though the idea of it felt like tearing your heart out. Maybe if you’d just let him go he would’ve at least come back eventually, after the awkwardness and discomfort had passed. Now he probably won’t ever want to look at you again, much less joke around and hang out the way you used to.
And God, you’ve probably ruined it for Logan now too! How could Oscar possibly look at Logan the same way either if it means having to awkwardly dance around your very existence? You’ve ruined your brother’s best friendship for him and now when you face him and explain how it’s all your fault, he’ll blame you and never want to speak with you again and then you’ll be well and truly alone.
You’re at the edge of the lawn and crumple to your knees, sinking to the ground and ignoring the fact that the grass is cold and slightly damp. It’s seeping into the fabric of your dress, but you don’t care. Something as superficial as your ruined makeup and stained clothes seems obsolete in comparison to everything else you’re feeling.
Through the blurriness of your tears, you can still see the warm glow of the lights shining outward through the windows, just beyond your reach. But the cold darkness of the Monagasque night swathes you, and your thoughts mirror the dreariness.
Oscar hates you, which mean Oscar hates Logan, which means Logan hates you, and by proxy Alex and Lily hate you, and because everyone else on the grid hates you, that means Lando hates you too. If they hate you, then their fans hate you, which will ruin your career and nobody will ever want to work with you again. You’ll lose everything you worked for and it’s all your fault—
You clamp your eyes shut and bite down on your lip to keep another devastatingly heartwrenching sob at bay.
This life was never meant to be yours— the racing life. You should’ve remained focused on your career instead of worried about some boy. You should’ve been happy with what you had, because now you’ve lost it all and you can’t fathom how you can possible get any of it back.
The door opens and the current bane of your very existence steps out, silhouetted by the lights behind him. His phone is held up to his ear, but between the shadows cast across his face and the tears in your eyes you can’t make out much else, just that one minute he’s stood on the stoep and the next he’s spotted you and is making a mad dash across the lawn.
“Oh my God, Y/N,” he says, falling to his knees beside you and immediately reaching out to place a steadying hand on your shoulder. His hand is warm against the chill of your skin, and you know you need to pull away, you know you need to distance yourself from him so he doesn’t hate you even more, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.
“You’re fucking freezing,” he mutters, low and concerned, before he’s slipping off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders, attempting to rub some warmth back into your arms through the fabric.
It makes you sob even harder.
His hands freeze, hovering over you. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
You scrunch up your face and shake your head. “No, Oscar, nothing is okay,” you somehow manage to get out between hiccups and stuttering breaths.
He’s going to hate you, he’s going to hate you, he’s going to hate you—
He pulls you against his chest and then wraps an arm around you, hugging you close. His hand cups the back of your head and presses you into the crook of his neck. You can feel his pulse point where he’s got you held, and his heart is racing. “What is it? What’s happened?”
You should push him away. He’s only doing this to comfort you because you’re a person in need and Oscar is the type of guy who would help anyone even if he can’t stand them. He’s just nice like that. But the feeling of him against you, so comforting and warm, is intoxicating and you’re not as nice as him. You want to be selfish, and you want this all to yourself from now until forever, but you know that the second this moment ends you’ll never have it again so you’re choosing to savor it.
“Y/N,” he says again, running his fingers through your hair. “You have to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“I’ve messed it all up,” you say, voice muffled against his neck. “It’s all ruined and it’s all my fault.” You manage to swallow back the sobs, but another wave of tears spills over and dampens his skin.
He makes a noise, and pulls you even closer still. “What could you have ruined?”
“Everything!” You exclaim while reaching up and grabbing at his shirt. You let your fingers twist into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this moment, and all Oscar does in response is continue to hold you. He scratches at your scalp and runs his fingers through your hair, and shushes you gently when your breath stutters again.
“It’s New Year's Eve,” you start after another moment, “and my twenty-third birthday, and instead of being happy and celebrating it with my brother like I should be doing—” the thought of Logan makes you sob once again, “—I’m in Monaco trying to pretend like I’m not in love with someone who hasn’t spared me a glance the entire time I’ve been here!”
It sounds stupid when you say it like that. It is stupid, you think, but now on top of everything else you’re convinced Oscar probably thinks you’re even stupider now than he already did. At the very least you had plausible deniability before, but now you’ve confessed that you’re in love with him of all things. Love! You hadn’t even known that yourself before you’d blurted it all out in a word vomit of feelings.
He hates you, he hates you, he hates you—
Oscar tenses and his hand stills, but he doesn’t pull away. “Lando’s been sparing you plenty of glances,” he mutters, sounding dejected for reasons you can’t possibly begin to theorize on.
You take a deep breath and swallow what little is left of your pride. You’ve already ruined things beyond repair so nothing else you do can possibly make things worse. You shake your head against him and cling to his shirt even more. “It’s not Lando I’m in love with.”
“What..?”
“Lando and I aren’t together, Oscar,” you whisper against his skin.
“Well, I know that,” he clears his throat. “But I thought… he flirts with you all the time. And you flirt back.”
You groan, thankful that at least your face and the horribly pink flush that’s risen to your cheeks is hidden where you’re tucked away. “He had this whole elaborate plan where he’s been trying to make you jealous so you’ll ‘man up’ and do something about it,” you explain, feeling more and more embarrassed as each word comes out.
Oscar hums. “So, he’s not pursuing you?”
“No!” You’re honestly afraid of what you must look like right now, certain that your makeup has been smeared with your tears across your face, but you pull away from Oscar just far enough to meet his eyes, managing to give him a look that asks if he’s being genuine right now. “I mean, Christ, Oscar, he made us share a bed. He was just trying to help me because I didn’t know how else to get your attention without risking our friendship entirely, and that’s the plan he came up with and I just went along with it because what else was I supposed to do?”
He looks surprised. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink from the chill of the night. It reminds you that his jacket is still draped across your shoulders, and you go to shrug it off and give it back to him, but his hands snap to yours and keep them pinned there.
When you meet his gaze again, he looks softer. Gentle. Not at all like someone who’s supposed to hate you. For a moment you think it’s the closest you’ve gotten to before Bahrain ever happened, but then you realize this is the same way he looked in the car outside your hotel, right before he kissed you.
“You could’ve talked to me,” he whispers, lips quirking at the corner as if all of this is just a big joke and he’s getting ready to laugh at the punchline.
“Oh, yeah,” you roll your eyes, “let me bring up the one kiss we shared that you seemed real intent on pretending never happened!”
“I never brought it up because I thought I was taking advantage of you and I was ashamed!”
You stare at him, and then despite looking like a mess and freezing your ass off, you burst into laughter and collapse against his chest. He rolls with it, letting you settle against him easily and then wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer.
“We’re really bad at this, aren’t we…” you murmur against him.
“Making fools of ourselves? No. But communicating? Absolutely.”
You sit there on the lawn for a while longer, letting the chill seep into your bones, until the front door opens again and Lando comes stepping out. He looks baffled when he spots the two of you hugging on the grass, but then a shit-eating grin stretches across his face and he strides over looking proud of himself.
“Well, having fun are we?” He asks when he comes to a stop before you both.
You can’t see Oscar’s face from where you’re resting against him, but you can feel him shift and his chest rumbles against you when he answers, “Oh, yeah. It’s a real party out here.”
“Funny you should say that, ‘cause there’s actually a very real and very fun party happening inside right now and people are starting to ask where the two of you are, so—” Lando shrugs, “—rather not have to tell them you two were shagging out on the grass of all places.”
You snort and Oscar sighs. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that we’re shagging from. Obviously we still have our clothes on, Lando,” he retorts.
Lando claps his hands, smiling, “Okay, then, whatever you kids these days are calling it, my front yard is not the place for it, so get on now. Move it! Up you get!” He shoos at you both like you’re a couple of unruly dogs he’s trying to usher elsewhere.
Oscar lets go of you long enough to climb to his feet, and then he’s offering his hand to help you up as well.
You take it, and thank him with a sheepish smile before glancing down the check the damage that’s been dealt to your dress. Thankfully, there’s doesn’t seem to be much of a stain, but there is a wet patch that you know will be noticeable if you don’t change. On top of that, you’re still certain your makeup has probably been ruined, and you’re already embarrassed enough by having Oscar and now Lando see you like this. You’d be absolutely mortified if anyone else in that house managed to catch you looking so messy.
“You good?” Lando asks you specifically when he catches you staring down at the dampness of your dress.
“Yeah,” you answer when you look up and meet his eyes. “Should probably go get changed, though. And fix up my makeup.” You rub at your eyes shyly, trying to do what you can here and now as if that’ll make it any better.
“We’ll make an excuse for you,” Oscar says, reaching a hand out to brush against your shoulder before him and Lando turn and begin making their way back to the house.
You follow shortly after him, lingering in the night for a moment longer. You feel lighter, and the darkness feels more like a comforting blanket of serenity now than an oppressing shroud of loneliness. When you realize his jacket is still draped over your shoulders, you wrap it tighter around your arms to take advantage of the remaining warmth that clings to it, and then you hurry across the lawn into the house.
Stepping into the entryway, you can hear Lando’s voice in the livingroom just beyond. You scurry up the stairs, moving as quickly as you can so you can return to the party.
When you get to your room, you take a moment to think about what in the hell just happened as you change. The week alone has been such a whirlwind of highs and lows. You’d been devastated when Oscar had first arrived, then you’d had one of the best weeks of your life, and then you’d had the closest thing you’ve ever had to a meltdown out on Lando’s front yard because you were convinced you’d just ruined everything you’d ever worked for and thrown it all away because of a dumb choice. A few laughs and cuddling on the grass doesn’t seem like enough to just completely brush away all the miscommunication that happened between you and Oscar, but it seems like a good place to start for tonight and that’s all you can ask for.
There will be other days and other nights where you can sit down and talk about where it all went wrong and how to keep it from going that way again, but for now it’s New Year’s Eve, it’s your 23rd birthday, and there’s a party just downstairs filled with people that know how to celebrate like no other.
INSTAGRAM.
liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 54,134 others
yourusername my 2024 is going great so far ☕️👀
view all 2,453 comments
user OH MY GOD?? IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???
logansargeant at least you’re not hungover
↳ yourusername oh trust i am VERY hungover rn 😔 hence coffee in bed
↳ logansargeant omg twinsies 😀
↳ yourusername yes bc our shared hangovers is the only reason we’re twinsies
user wish i could’ve woken up like this this morning 😭😭
user manifesting this for 2024
landonorris keep it pg13 in there kiddos
↳ user ASKAHAOUFHALD WHAT???
↳ user WE NEED DELULU DETECTIVES IN HERE PRONTO
user oscar’s liked the post but he hasn’t commented, lowkey sus 🤔
↳ user y’all are actually crazy wtf?? can a man not just like a post anymore??
user she’s still in monaco right?? so it’s gotta be one of the mclaren boys
↳ user if she doesn’t reveal who it is by bahrain 24 then i’m gonna lose my mind
↳ user catch me hyperanalyzing every moment of y/n on the paddock to see who she’s with to try and solve the mystery
user seriously how cAN ONE PERSON LOOK SO STUNNING 😫😫😫
alex_albon happy new years y/n! me and lily loved getting to celebrate with you yesterday!
↳ yourusername happy new years to you as well! had the time of my life getting to see you both! we definitely need to do it again sometime 💙
━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23
━━ a/n: hehehe here we are folks! that conflict resolution is finally here! also, i think this is actually the longest part i've written so far? but i wanted to get everything sorted in a single chapter instead of having another cliffhanger or dragging things on for too long. it's also 3AM as i'm finishing this up and getting it posted, so my apologies if there are any editing mistakes that i missed! i am very sleep deprived! anyways, i hope you all enjoy!
#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#logan sargeant#alex albon#lando norris#social media au
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