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#i have a migraine again ugh
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Kitty kat! 😺
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revenantghost · 7 months
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Life give me a break challenge (failed)
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having one of them days were i got barely any sleep (nothing new tbh), i've got the worse headache ever, my migraine meds aren't working and i feel so sick
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manasurge · 5 months
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Lol I've been literally too tired to function today. I spent the entire day just trying to "wake up", but I'm still just as tired right now as I was when I woke up this morning (and is why I haven't been super active or capable enough to interact, despite how hard I've been trying). How does anyone function this time of year?! (at least on my side of the globe). I even had a nap today and it didn't help (in fact, it made me more tired). I've had no ability to concentrate and no energy whatsoever 😔
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rohan-defender · 1 year
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AAAAUGH. i hate how stress fucks with your appetite. i feel so bad ive been losing weight so fast but now i get migraines from just being so hungry im literally sneaking food into my bedroom and trying to live off of that 😭. GOD. i feel like shit i hate the fact i havent been able to eat right bc of my situation but I feel worse bc im sure if the doctors saw how fast i was losing weight theyd show concern
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storm-of-feathers · 2 years
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#yes i stole this from another post but im gonna vent for a sec#bc its REALLY cool that someone at my insurance decided im not actually sick#its really cool that the INSURANCE got to advise the DOCTORS ab whether or not i need further testing#someone over at independence has decided that because i have no prior history of physical brain dysfunction#(bc my cocktail of mental illness dont count i guess)#(nor does my ACTUAL history of head trauma??)#and therefore if i get further testing i pay out of pocket and that shits fucking expensive#and our rent just went up and i just. ugh.#i guess its not a huge deal ive been told theres no risk of it being terminal#and only a 'moderate' risk of it being serious#but like. id still love to know why my head literally always hurts. why i never dont have a headache#like when i say i have a headache what i mean is it hurts worse than the baseline hurt#but its not supposed to hurt AT ALL#and i was told its probably connected to my migraines and insomnia#but like.#the other problem is now i have to like#go through psych evals again to get back on the proper medication.#but the waiting list is. long. and as long as im still on antidepressants im not at risk of suicide probably#i mean tbf im. i ran out of antidepressants ab a week ago and just havent refilled it#i dont know... why. i can feel myself getting worse but i just. havent made one single phone call#idk whats wrong with me its like i want to be sick.#ugh its all just. too much.#its cool how some greg over at insurance can practice medicine without a license with a greater authority than a doctor.
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khezuonhead · 5 months
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yeah big fuckin shock that the bitch that's constantly been made to feel so incredibly unimportant, that's always been lowest in the pecking order, that's closeted to the people that they live with, has absolutely piss poor mental health and spends most of their time shut up in a room either playing games to escape or just being sad and angry all the time
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happywitch416 · 10 months
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And its done. And at the moment I have nothing nice to say about it so I won't.
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absolutely fucking DREADING going back to school tomorrow ive been out for a week im gonna have to much shit to make up 😭
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alastor-simp · 2 months
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La Vie en Rose🌹 - Alastor X Reader
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Requested by @hitherethea
"Ugh FML!" Groaning out loud, your body was slowly making its way to somewhere quiet. Today was a very unlucky day, as there was many mishaps that left you feeling frustrated and emotionally drained. Earlier in the morning, you dropped a few plates while putting them away for Niffty. Niffty said it was fine and cleaned up the mess, but it left you feeling extremely guilty. After that incident, you were tasked with getting some groceries for the kitchen, only to being catcalled and nearly sexually harassed by some grotesque reptile demons once you started to head back to the hotel. Nothing happened to you physically, but god, why do some people have to be so gross?! Once you got back, your head got nearly speared by Vaggie on accident when you walked in through the door. She wasn't aiming for you thankfully, she was trying to hit Sir Pentious after he accidentally blasted her favorite ribbon with a laser gun. She grabbed the spear and ran away to catch Sir Pentious, yelling out an apology to you as she chased after a screaming snake slithering down the hallway.
Lord you couldn't catch a break. Your only place of sanctuary was the porch in your room. The view always helped you relaxed and the breeze was nice, despite the mass pollution in the air. Entering your room, you slowly made your way to the porch. The sky was covered in stars, but instead of pitch black, it was a dark vermilion. Well, this was Hell, so it was better then nothing. Heaving a sigh, you moved to one of the chairs on the porch and took a seat, throwing your head back as you tried to relax from the migraine that was starting to form. A few minutes went by as you continued to lean back in the chair, listening to the sounds of the cars screeching below and people yelling profanities at one another. "Why the long face my dear?" A static voice appeared next to your head, causing you to jolt and nearly fall off the chair. Looking up, you see a certain deer demon, leaning down due to his tall height, smiling like a jester at your reaction. "Not funny Al." Grumbling from your position, you got up and sat back properly in your seat. Alastor stood up to his normal position, and broke into a fit of laughter, probably still finding your reaction hilarious. "HAHA! Apologies, my dear! I didn't expect you to take a tumble!" He made his way over to the other chair and sat down, placing his microphone against the wall, before turning to you with his legs crossed and hands on his lap. Finding his response ridiculous, you rolled your eyes. "Yeah right. You enjoy scaring the crap out of everyone."
Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to stare at you, smiling widely. "Anyhoo! What seems to be troubling you, my dear?" Alastor asked you, as he continued to stare at you. His sharp smile turn to a more soft grin as he awaited your response. Sighing again, your eyes turn back to gaze at the view. "Not a very good day today. I made a mess for Niffty, almost got raped by some gross lizard-like demons when I left the grocery store, and then the icing on the cake was getting nearly speared by Vaggie from her chasing after Sir Pentious." Alastor continued to listen to you, his face changing a bit from slight sadness to extreme anger, especially when you mentioned the demons who tried to assault you. Looks like he has some hunting to do later. He may be a serial killer, but any inappropriate actions towards a lady infuriates him. Pushing his feelings of carnage away, he continued to stare at you. Your body was slouched on the chair as your eyes continued to stare at the sky. Instead of the kind smile you usually wore, it was replaced with a somber frown. Moving his hand slowly, he placed his clawed hand on your head, giving you a slight rub. He wasn't use to acts of affection, so this was the best he could offer. "Is there something I can do to make that frown of yours turn back into a smile?" Surprised by Al's words, you looked back at him. He was still smiling, but he was staring at you with kind eyes. You found it sweet that he wanted to cheer you up instead of leaving you alone in your negative emotions. Thinking long and hard about what you wanted, you came to a conclusion.
"Um, could you sing for me perhaps?" Al nearly froze at your request. Out of all the things you wanted, you wanted to hear him sing? Oh what a charming doll you were! Alastors smile grew tremendously, almost to the point it broke his face. Grabbing his microphone, he turned to you, positively joyful at your request. "My my! What an adorable request! Now then! What song would you like me to sing my dear? Request away!" Alastor was beaming at you. He was surprisingly cute like this, but you wouldn't tell him that. Any song? This was tough. You knew he was a fan of oldies and jazz and detested some music genres. Soon you came up with the perfect song for him to sing to you. Blushing at him, you looked away from him, twirling your hair with your fingers. "La vie en rose, please." Alastor was actually surprised at your choice, as he tilted his head. "Why that particular song, my dear?" You looked back at him, face flushed. "Well, I heard that you knew how to speak French, so I kinda wanted to see if it was true or not." Twiddling your fingers, you continued to stare at Al, who was still smiling. "Can you really? Speak French, I mean?" Alastor nodded his head: "Oui mon cher!" Oh no, that made your heart race. Al's voice was already amazing as it was, now you get to hear him sing to you in French?! Someone better pinch you to make sure this is not a dream.
Clearing his throat, Alastor adjusted his position, placing his mic in front of him, as he was preparing for his small performance for you.
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(Credit to Paranoid Dj on Youtube for this awesome cover)
🎶𝑄𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑠
𝑄𝑢'𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑠
𝐽𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒
𝐼𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑑'𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟
𝐷𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠
𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑖, 𝑐̧𝑎 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒
𝐼𝑙 𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒́ 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑐œ𝑢𝑟
𝑈𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛ℎ𝑒𝑢𝑟
𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑗𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒
𝐶'𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑢𝑖 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑖, 𝑚𝑜𝑖 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑢𝑖 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒
𝐼𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑙'𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑡, 𝑙'𝑎 𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑒́ 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒
𝐸𝑡 𝑑𝑒̀𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑗𝑒 𝑙'𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐̧𝑜𝑖𝑠
𝐴𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑗𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑖
𝑀𝑜𝑛 𝑐œ𝑢𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑡🎶
Two words, HOLY S***! His voice was incredible! The whole time during his performance, you were blushing madly, but also it felt like all the frustration you were feeling before slowly diminished. Singing out the last of the lyrics, a sound of applause radiated from his microphone. "Enjoyed the performance, darling?" Alastor looked back at you, noticing your flushed face and wide eyes. "Darling?" Alastor tilted his head at you, confused at your reaction. Breaking from your trance, you started nodding rapidly. "Yes! I enjoyed your performance very much!" Satisfied that you enjoyed it, Alastor gave a nod, as he placed his microphone back to where he left it. Looking back at you, he raised his hand and grabbed your chin with his fingers. "Feeling better, chérie?" His ruby eyes gazed into yours, almost as if he was staring into your soul. Heat rose to your cheeks as you suspected you were as red as his hair. "Y-es I am. Thank you again Al." No longer feeling upset about the day, your emotions improved and you gave Al a warm smile. Humming with approval, Al still held your chin, but not before leaning closer to the point your noses were touching. "Wonderful my dear! Glad your smile has returned especially since you are never fully dressed without one! If you desire another performance in the future, seek me out."
Goosebumps began to form on your skin, as you continued to stare at Al. He is so close!!! Tongue-tied, you nodded your head. Pleased with your response, Al let go of your chin and stood up from the chair, adjusting his suit and hair. He remembered his previous mission, before he sang to you. Feelings of wrath and rage bubbled inside him, but he hid it as not to alarm you. "Well then! I have some business to attend to at the moment! Have a good evening my dear!" Alastor bid you a farewell, as he diminished in a black shadow, and disappeared from your eyes. Watching Al leave, you covered your face with your hands. It was true you were no longer feeling upset about today, but now you were starting to feel other emotions. Your heart was pounding and your palms were sweating. What was this feeling? It wasn't fear, cause you knew you weren't scared of Alastor, so what was it? Admiration? Or was it something else?
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tasakesi · 1 year
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ughgh i have a migraine incoming and i feel so fucking nauseous
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enwrites · 9 months
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Cloud Nine (p.sh)
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parings: brother’s bff!sunghoon x afab!reader
warning: 18+ MDNI !! not proofread (sorry for mistakes)
genre/cw: smut, e2l, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sunghoon is a creep kinda, brother’s best friend trope, spit play, oral (male receiving), pillow riding, degradation, size kink, strength play, choking, breeding, spanking, sunghoon is pretty mean to reader, one year age gap, jay is your brother (lmk if anything was missed!)
synopsis: You and Sunghoon have never gotten along. Ever. Constant bickering and fights to the point your brother is fed up as well. What no one knew was how badly you wanted Sunghoon spewing those same words to your face in your bed. What happens when he sees something he shouldn’t have seen?
wc: 3.6k words
a/n: hi hi !! this is my first ever fic on here !! pls let me know how this was and im happy to receive any feedback <3 a hee fic is currently in the works, i just had sunghoon brain rot so i needed to let this one out LOL (update: part two coming soon ;))
[ masterlist ] [ part 2 ]
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From as long as you remember, you have always hated your brother’s best friend— Park Sunghoon. Nothing about him amused you and you especially hated the way he always seems to be at your house every weekend. You couldn’t escape him. From his annoying laugh to his stupid ego, you hated everything.
But you couldn’t help but be so attracted to him. Yes, he was annoying but man was he just everything in a package. Tall and gorgeous… not to mention his insanely fit body. You couldn’t help but wonder how big he’d be, hovering over your small frame. But everything disappears in an instant the moment you hear loud knocks on your door. 
“Y/n can you get that! It’s Sunghoon!” your brother Jay yells at you from the kitchen. The knocks persist as you stay put, pretending to ignore your older brother as it was his friend anyways. Why should you open the door for a monster? “Y/n please, I’ll make you something to eat too,” your brother begs you. With a loud groan you mutter a “fine” and drag yourself off the couch, heading to the door to open it. Before he could loudly bang on the door once more, you pull the door open. He looks at you with a disgusted face. 
“Ugh, did not wanna see your face at the door,” he spits, walking past you making sure to bump your shoulder with his. You slam the door shut giving an annoyed smile back at him.
“If you had forgotten, this has been my house forever, you’re lucky I even open the door for heathens like you,” you spit back, your voice laced with venom. He squints his eyes at you, sticking his tongue out as he makes his way towards the kitchen. “Jay, can you tell your annoying little sister to shut the hell up for once oh my god,” Sunghoon complained to Jay as he walked into the Kitchen.
“How about you both shut the hell up,” Jay annoyedly said rolling his eyes as he put the pizza he’s been working on in the oven. He was never fond of the both of you constantly barking at one another. He thought maybe he was insane for thinking he felt some sort of tension between the two of you. He loved you both but seriously wished he could sew both of your mouths together whenever he felt like it. 
“HE STARTED IT!” You yelled in protest. You crossed your arms as you stood at the kitchen doorway, Sunghoon sticking his tongue out at you once again before turning to Jay. 
“I don’t care who started it, can you both just give me a single day of peace!” Jay exclaims letting out a sigh. A migraine was surely going to form sooner or later for him. Before you both can protest, he ushers the both of you out so that he can finish making the pizzas with some sanity left. You both grumpily make your way to the couch and sit on opposite ends. To your surprise, at least your favorite show was playing when you got back to your seat on the couch. 
“This show is so stupid, I’m changing it,” Sunghoon says as he reaches for the remote on the coffee table. Before he could get it, you immediately jumped up and grabbed the remote first.
“NO. This is my favorite show and my house, I’m not letting you change anything,” you loudly said to him. But he wasn’t going to let you go easily. 
“I don’t give a flying fuck if this is your favorite show or not, I wanna watch something else,” He spits back. With that, he lunges at you towards the remote. You hurriedly crawl back to where you were, making sure he couldn’t take the remote away from you. 
“Sunghoon stop it,” You struggled to let out as he was enclosing you on the couch. Your breath starts to hitch the closer he gets to you. You could feel him breathing on you. He pins you beneath him, his arms longer than yours as he reaches for the remote you try to hold behind your head. Sunghoon didn’t realize how compromising of a position you both were in until he finally reached for the remote in your hands and looked down at you.
There you were, under him, staring back at him with your doe eyes, crop top hiked up just a bit to where your bra was showing. He didn’t realize how short your shorts really were until now. Eying you up and down, he licks his lips. His thoughts were interrupted with you trying to get him off of you. You have come to your senses and realized how turned on he had just made you, immediately trying to push him off. He just pins your arms down more, inching closer to your ear.
“Stupid girls like you don’t deserve to do things they wanna do,” he whispers. His hot breath sends tingles down your body and you swear you get a little wetter. You try to push him off once more but he doesn’t budge. “Are you going to apologize to me for being so annoying now?” he asks. He looks at you, finding it amusing the way you’re struggling under him right now. He can’t help but think how you’d look naked under him. Sunghoon has always had a thing for you.
“Apologize for what? For your mother raising a dickface, that's you?” you bite back, rolling your eyes at him. Before he could say anything, Jay yells from
in the kitchen the pizzas are done. Sunghoon loosens his grip which gives you the perfect opportunity to push him down and onto the floor, scurrying your way towards your brother. Sunghoon gets up shaking his head… this wasn’t over for him.
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Hours passed since your little altercation with Sunghoon earlier in the living room. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Your mind was racing and it didn’t help that he wore his stupid gray sweatpants once again. Thinking about the way he pinned you down and whispered in your ear was enough to get you excited again. With that, you take your shorts and crop top off, leaving you in just your lace undergarments underneath. You just so happened to put on a white matching set— Sunghoon’s favorite color.
To the thought of Sunghoon, you lean back down onto your bed and start to rub small circles on your panty covered clit. It’s embarrassing how wet you already were just thinking about him. You rub just a bit more, sliding your fingers up and down your pussy, feeling the wetness that pooled down there. But this wasn’t enough. You were so desperate and in need of something to satisfy you. You sit up, grabbing the second pillow beside you, putting it beneath you. 
Folding it just a bit, you straddle it. Slowly grinding down onto the pillow under you, imagining yourself riding Sunghoon. You hump the pillow in desperation, trying to get off. You grind and grind, wishing Sunghoon’s cock filled you up instead. 
Unbeknownst to you, Jay had fallen asleep to the movie he and Sunghoon were watching. Realizing that his friend was asleep, he decided to make his way to find you, just to mess with you again. He always found it so cute how annoyed you’d get to his teasing. But today was different, he wanted more. If it weren’t for Jay, he swears he would’ve taken you on the couch right there and then. Making his way down the long hall towards your room, he notices a faint light coming from the small crack of your door. He carefully steps closer and to his surprise, the sight before him was nothing he ever expected to see in a million years.
There you were, on your bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy lace lingerie set, grinding down on a pillow so desperately. He watches you, making sure he stays as quiet as possible to not get caught. There you were, humping a pillow, your hips grinding over and over, letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard. Did you know your door was a bit cracked? Who cares, he was enjoying the view. 
Sunghoon palms himself as he watches you, not wanting to even blink in fear of missing the show. He just couldn’t believe this was happening. Before the realization of him being a creep watching you pleasure yourself through the crack of your door, that’s when he hears it. You had moaned his name. His dick twitched in his pants, painfully hard and needing to be released.
“S-Sunghoon, you feel so good,” you moaned, increasing your speed on the pillow. He swore he was gonna explode right then and there. He had to have you. But he knew he had to punish you as well. He pushes the door open even more and to his surprise you hadn’t noticed yet. Hell, you haven’t even noticed the fact that he closed the door before him as well.
Loss in your trance, Sunghoon watched you just for a bit before making his move. He clears his throat to get your attention. Startled, you urgently grabbed your blanket to cover yourself, shocked to see Sunghoon in your room. There he looked at you with a smug smile painted on his face.
You swore you saw evil behind those eyes.
“Oh don’t stop now, I was enjoying my show,” he pouts, walking closer to you, standing in front of your bed. “Go on, I’m here now, isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked in a cheeky tone. Your face was red and embarrassment washed over you. You wanted to run away. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights. 
“I’m not gonna tell you again, go on, continue what you were doing,” he demanded, pulling your blanket off of you. You were at a loss for words. But something in you gave into him. You start to straddle the pillow again, grinding your pussy against it. Embarrassed, you tilt your head down, trying to avoid any eye contact. You can’t help but get so turned on as he watches you. You hump your pillow desperately letting out whines and moans, trying your best to not be too loud.
“Hoonie~,” You moaned loudly, humping your pillow as you grew wetter. You felt so dirty. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. You felt like you were on cloud nine and he hasn’t even touched you yet.
Sunghoon smirks, he takes in the scene in front of him, he couldn’t take it anymore and slips his pants down, freeing his hard on. He starts to slowly stroke, watching you as you pleasure yourself. His tip was red and angry, leaking a bit of precum already. He wanted to see more of you. 
“Take your bra off,” he demands. You look up at him, shocked to see him pleasuring himself. The sight of his cock making your mouth water. He was huge. No way you can fit that in you, you don’t even think it’ll fit in your mouth. Nevertheless, you obliged and took your bra off, your boobs slowly falling out of the cups. Embarrassed, you try to cover yourself again. He takes his pants and boxers off right away, signaling for you to get closer to him. He needed to feel your mouth on him. 
“As much as I love to see you getting yourself off, I need your pretty little mouth on my cock right now,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside you. He pushes you off the bed and onto your knees right in front of him. Watching you carefully, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your face against his cock. 
“Open wide,” he instructs, hand still in your hair. You reach your hand up to his shaft, opening your mouth to finally get a taste of him. His tip was already leaking. You put his tip in your mouth. He lets out low groans, guiding you as he grips onto your hair even more. As you expected, he definitely could not fit into your mouth. So using your hand that was on his shaft, you start to stroke him as you suck him off. Getting lost in the pleaser, he needed to be down your throat and that he was gonna do. 
“Hands behind your back now,” he firmly said, the tone of his voice catching you off guard but you obliged, your panties getting stickier as the seconds passed. You put your hands behind your back and he starts to buck his hips, his tip reaching further and further down your throat. The sound of him groaning fills the room immediately. You just prayed to the lord your brother was sound asleep. 
With his dick down your throat, you can’t help but feel so turned on. This was dirty, you’ve never deepthroat a dick in your life. Well dicks as big as Sunghoon’s. He watches you, making sure to keep eye contact.
“I’ve always known you were a little whore, but letting me fuck your little mouth while your brother’s asleep down the hall?” he grunts out, slamming his cock in and out of your mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in the pleasure. He felt as if he was in a dream. Your eyes teary as all you can let out are moans against his dick. Being too turned on, you snaked your hand from behind your back and into your panties. You attempt to rub your clit as he fucks into your mouth. Now it was your turn to close your eyes from the intense pleasure. Your moans intensify, catching Sunghoon’s attention.
There he saw you, touching yourself. As much as he enjoyed watching you get off, never did he allow you to pleasure yourself as you were pleasuring him. He forcefully tugs you by your hair and off his cock, shaking his head at you as if he was disappointed. You take this time to catch your breath, puzzled at why he suddenly stopped. He then pulls you up by your hair, making sure you were eye level with him. He takes his other hand and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to make sure you were looking right into his eyes. Chills ran through your body.
“Did I say you can touch yourself?” he quietly asks, you can feel his breath on your face. You shake your head, looking pitiful in his eyes. “Did I say you can touch yourself?” he repeats, that venomous tone coming back to his voice. You were nervous. 
“N-No…,” you shakily said. Your breathing intensifies. Sunghoon lets out an almost evil laugh. “I guess this little slut needs a punishment.” 
With that, he tosses you onto the bed. With your backside up, he drags your body to the edge. Standing right behind you, your legs hanging off, he starts to caress your cheeks. Taking in the beauty of your backside, it took everything in him to not take you right there and then. 
“Take your panties off,” he demands. You angle your butt up just a bit and reach behind you, slowly pulling them down, making sure he sees everything. He was watching you as if you were his prey and he was about to get ready to feast on a meal. The glistening sheen of your arousal stares back at him as you fully remove your panties. He couldn’t wait to have you. He makes his way closer to you, one hand on your ass and the other sliding up and down your folds. You were soaking, practically dripping down your legs.
“Please… touch me Hoonie…,” you softly spoke, the lack of physical action killing you on the inside. Still painfully hard and turned on, he swore he was going to explode right there, hearing your soft voice begging for him to touch you. Before you could speak up again, he spanks you. Caught off guard, you let out a yelp, the action turning you on even more. And then again, a spank lands onto your cheeks. His other hand’s still feeling your wetness, teasing you in an agonizing way. “I wanna hear you beg.”
You shiver a bit as his voice drops even lower than before. You couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you in the first place. Feeling a sense of pride wash over, you were getting a bit fed up and were about to protest until yet another slap landed onto your cheek. This time harder than the previous two. 
“I said– beg,” he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You gulp, feeling trapped beneath him. 
“Hoonie please… need you so bad,” every sense of pride and dignity was thrown out the window as you let those words out of your mouth. “Sorry I can’t hear you. What did you say?” he snickers back, egging you on. With one hand now on your waist and the other rubbing his tip up and down your slick folds, he needed to hear you say it one more time. Too horny to even fight back, you crumbled beneath him, just wanting his cock in you as soon as possible. 
“Sunghoon please fuck me already, I need your cock in me right now!” you loudly said, he leans back down and into your ear he whispers a “good girl.” He pushes his tip into you, already feeling like your pussy was sucking him in. You both let out a moan. He felt so big in you and it was just the tip. 
“S-So… big …,” you muttered. He chuckles. “It’s just the tip baby, can’t handle my cock already?” he presses. You shake your head letting out a tiny squeal and he enters you even more. Fully into you, you felt as if you were being stretched out to the max, no way could you handle this. Yet your pussy was craving more.
Sunghoon couldn't handle it, without giving you any proper time to adjust, he starts stroking into you. Grabbing onto your waist with both of his hands, he fucks you hard on the edge of the bed. Seeing your small frame beneath him and the way your body was just engulfed by his hands, he gets even more turned on.
“So fucking tight Y/n, so fucking wet and all for me– is that right doll?” he grunts out as he slams his cock into you, trying his hardest not to cum. But your cute little moans were making it so hard for him, he felt so lost in the pleasure. 
“Y-Yes all y-yours Hoonie~,” you moan loudly, not a single worry in your body. Just you and Sunghoon. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see your face. In a swift second, Sunghoon flips you over, still standing at the edge of the bed, he puts your legs over his shoulders as he pumps deeper into you. Fucking you into your bed, he leans down, grabbing your face he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your lips mesh together like they’ve been dying for this moment all their lives. He reaches down to your neck, giving it a small squeeze, startled, you open your mouth which gives him access to stick his tongue. Your tongues dance with one other, Sunghoon starting to feel drunk off of you. After what felt like forever, he pulls back, hand on your jaw, holding your mouth open. He spits in it. You let out a loud whiny moan, feeling more aroused than ever before in your life. You instantly swallow, making him lose his mind. 
“You’re such a filthy little slut, swallowing my spit, letting me fuck you like this, is this what you wanted– huh?” He speaks to you, all you could get out were little yelps of “yes.” With your arms snaked around his neck, he pushes your legs off from his shoulders, shocking you he lifts you up off the bed and starts to pound into you harder and harder. You knew Sunghoon was fit but you didn’t know he was that fit. Taking you by surprise with this new angle, he holds you up as he fucks you hard, his pace increasing. You start to feel a knot in your stomach form, getting so close to your climax. Your pussy clenching around him, so tight and pulsating, he knew he was getting close as well. Room filled entirely of moans, skin slapping, and the smell of sex, you needed him to fill you up.
Before you knew it, with one hard pump, you screamed, cumming all over his cock. Overstimulated, he sets you back down onto the bed, helping you ride out your orgasm as he was soon to reach his. The feeling of your wetness and your cum all mixed into one was enough for him to unload right into you. With a few more strokes, he releases, holding onto your body as he rides out his own climax, pumping his seed into you. You felt so full and exhausted. He carefully pulls out, watching as his cum spills out from your pussy. It was a sight he never wanted to forget. He quickly grabs his phone to capture the moment, fingering his load that was spilling out of you back into your hole. You couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit embarrassed. Sunghoon lays beside you, as he trails kisses along your neck. 
“Fuck– you’re all mine,” he said against your neck. Before any realization could hit the both of you as to what you guys just did with one another, the distinct sound of buzzing came from both of your phones. Your faces went pale.
*Jay added Y/n and Sunghoon to a group.*
Jay: You guys are fucking disgusting.
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© enwrites // tumblr
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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Clone^2 - graveyard shift
The dinging of the door alerts Sarah of someone walking in, and she barely glances up from her phone to see who it is. It's past midnight and somehow her coworker John managed to convince her to take over his graveyard shift at their convenience store. He owes her one, because she's been standing here for an hour and nobody's come in.
Not a surprise to her - nobody likes to stay out past sundown in Amity Park, even after nearly three years of ghosts appearing all over the place.
But still, it happens sometimes. So she doesn't look up. The dinging bell just lets her know that it's not a ghost, and that's really all she can ask for. The last time she worked late and a ghost came in, she was cleaning the shelves from some weird goo for an hour.
However, the lack of footsteps in the store after a few seconds worries her enough that she forces her head to lift. And a frown weaves its way onto her face when she sees no one at the door, nor anyone in the closet aisles.
...Shit, was there really a ghost here? Can they ring door when they come in? Normally she sees them just phase right through. And normally they glow, bright and jarring that leaves a migraine building behind Sarah's eyes.
Her eyes quickly scan the shelves again, looking for anything out of place -- anyone with too many heads, or too many teeth, or snakes for hair. She's pretty sure a coworker saw that once when they were working graveyard.
But she still sees no one. Apprehension raises the hair on the back of her neck, and she straightens up from her lean against the counter. Fuuuck. Was this one of those... marshmallow ghosts? An animal ghost?
Sarah really does not want to have to fight off a three-eyed raccoon looking-thing with eagle feet. She's heard the horror stories. And there was no way to contact the Phantom or the Red Huntress to come pick it up -- and she wasn't gonna try her luck with the Drs. Fentons.
Her fingers itch for the broom hanging on the wall behind her. It probably won't do much against a mutant raccoon-ghost-monster, but it'll make her feel better.
There's a rustle and crinkle in the candy aisle, and Sarah's hands are curled around the broom before she could blink. Her heart beating in her chest. She walks out from the counter, the bristled end raised like a bat in the air as she creeps apprehensively towards the noise.
There's nothing there when she peers around the side, and the aisle shelves are tall enough that she can't see over them.
She raises the broom higher. Sarah was in softball. She could take out a raccoon-eagle-hybrid.. thing.... easily. She just... needs to pretend its a golf ball. Except golf isn't softball so that's a terrible comparison.
Oh god she was gonna get her face ripped off, wasn't she.
John so owes her one. So much.
Creeping down the aisle, she keeps her ears perked for any new sounds. But all she can really hear is the soft pop music playing on the store speakers -- chosen by yours truly from her own personal playlist -- and the hum of the freezers. Ugh. This was not good for her paranoia. Like, at all.
Sarah's down at the end of the aisle when she feels a quick set of taps on her shoulder. Her nerves are already shot, so she shrieks and whirls around on her foot, swinging the broom blindly.
Only to be met with sudden and blunt resistance. Blinking rapidly, Sarah stares up and sees a black gloved hand gripping the broom handle tightly, small white bandages peeking over the side around five fingers. Following the hand down connects it with an arm, and then a chest, and suddenly she's staring at a black hoodie and black jacket.
When she tilts her head up, Sarah comes face to face with the bone-white mask and the terrifying, unearthly green eyes of their local vigilante, the Phantom.
...Holy fuck. It was the Phantom.
He was taller than she initially thought. Was her jaw on the ground? Probably. It was flapping like a fish out of water. "I- uh, you-- buh--"
Slowly, the Phantom raised his free hand and wrapped it around the handle of the broom. Sarah watches, wide eyed still and stammering as he firmly plucked the broom out of her hands and turned to lean it against the shelves.
Something about him doing that must've kicked her brain back into gear, because the first thing that comes out of her mouth is; "Your eyes are really green."
And she was going to lock herself in the freezer in the back for that one. She feels her face grow hot with embarrassment, and the Phantom only looks at her blankly. Her eyes shift nervously. "Well, it's true."
It was! The green eyes of the Phantom was his most defining feature other than that unsettling mask he wore. Especially considering they were the same color as some of the ghosts. It was one of the many, many creepy things about the guy.
Looking at it gave her the same, faint headache as when she stared at a ghost for too long. So Sarah drops her gaze a little to avoid it.
The Phantom remains silent, but he raises his hands and signs something to her that she doesn't understand. Fuck, that's right. He didn't speak - and Sarah doesn't know any ASL.
Sarah cringes. "Sorry, I don't know ASL."
She can feel his burning green eyes boring into her, and he remains as silent as the grave as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone in a plain black case. She watches him turn it on -- or at least she assumes he does, there's a privacy protector covering the screen -- and type something into.
He holds it up to her face when he's done, and she squints at the screen. In the notes app, a small text reads; 'We're ready to pay.'
..Oh. This wasn't Sarah's night. Embarrassment flashes hot through her and she forces out a laugh in order to try and quell it, Phantom shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Oh! Oh, right! I'm sorry, I'll uh- get up to the front--" She stops in her tracks.
Wait. Did that message say 'we?'
She smiles nervously, tilting her head up at the Phantom as her brows thread together. "Um," she swallows dryly, "we?" Didn't... didn't the Phantom work alone?
As if startled, the Phantom jerks. And for the first time since he showed up, he blinks and turns around. Which personally, doesn't bode that well as the Phantom swivels his head from side to side like he's looking for someone.
Sarah thinks, after the Phantom stalks up to the end of the aisle and looks around, she hears him sigh. And when he walks back, he snatches the broom with an elegant twist and knocks it against the shelves.
Thud, thud, thud!
There's very, very quiet shuffling that Sarah would have missed if she hadn't been looking for it, and then silence for a few seconds, before suddenly there's a small child pushing past her side and over to the Phantom.
And in the process, scaring the shit out of Sarah.
She squeaks and jumps, nearly tripping over her own feet as the child makes a spot next to the Phantom's side. "Where did you come from?!" She says, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
The child says nothing, just stares at her through a creepy bone-white mask reminiscent of the Phantom's. Although unlike the Phantom, he was wearing some... kind of... dark red ninja outfit?
Sarah really wasn't quite sure. It was partially covered by a jacket that clearly belonged to the Phantom and with the sleeves rolled up multiple times to his elbows. The jacket alone nearly obscured the sword attached to his hip.
...Why the hell did the child have a sword.
She looks between Phantom and the child, at a loss for words. Why-- why did the Phantom have a kid with him, why was the kid wearing a mask like his.
"You have a child with you." Sarah says bluntly, her voice flat. It betrays how shocked she feels. The Phantom doesn't say anything, as she should have expected, but he does nod shortly.
The child bristles slightly, but says nothing. Part of his mouth was uncovered, and she watched it twist downward into a scowl at her. Unlike the Phantom, his eyes were not green. She couldn't see his eyes at all, actually. They were shadowed by the mask.
There's the sound of paper thwipping, and like a magician pulling out a card, the Phantom holds out a note card to her. He stares, expectantly, and Sarah reluctantly takes it.
Written in neat writing and bold sharpie are the words; "This is Wraith."
...And that's it. Sarah glances up at Phantom. Then at the supposed 'Wraith'. Then back at Phantom. "You're bringing a child with you to ghost hunt?" She asks, and okay, maybe she's not able to hide all of the judgement leaking into her voice. "And you gave him a sword?"
The Phantom stares at her blankly, or well, probably blankly. All of his expressions are unreadable with the mask he wears. But the kid, Wraith, bristles again like a stray cat. His scowl deepens, he puffs up, and he opens his mouth like he's about to say something.
...Only for the Phantom to immediately snap his hand out and cover his mouth. Wraith makes an angry sound, and Phantom drags the boy into his side, seemingly nonplussed as he twists his wrist and pulls another note card out of nowhere.
"He is perfectly capable of handling himself." The card reads, and then continues; "I would not have been able to stop him anyways. Wraith would have followed me regardless."
Did he have these prepared?
Best not to question it, Sarah decides. The Phantom has always been strange. So she just nods mutely and stuffs the two notecards into her back pocket. "Okay," she says, and moves around the Phantom. "I'll check you out up front."
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littleredwing89 · 8 months
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FAMOUS [PART TWO]
Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader
Summary: “Look—Sionis hired me to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing happens. So whilst I’m here, we need to set some ground rules down”.
WARNINGS: Death threats mentioned. Language/swearing. Annoying friend dynamic.
A/N: So here is part two!! Wooo!! 💛💛 this is a little bit longer and starting to build a little between Jason & our beautiful reader - also, more annoying friend Roy 🤣. Please note, there isn’t a posting schedule for Famous (just with how busy my work is right now - so please bare with me - I am sorry!!) sending all my love & please enjoy the next chapter - Elle xoxo (also big thanks again to @offendedfishnoises for your help with this - much love as always)
————
CONFLICT OF PRIVACY
————
You watched Jason stomp from one room to the other through your usually very peaceful studio apartment, disrupting the very nature of your home. His presence set your nerves on edge, fraying the calmness to anxiety. You could feel a migraine starting to brew and you sighed loudly, rubbing your temples in languid circles. You prayed for strength in this troubled time, you couldn’t sack him before he’d even started...could you?
Jason came to a stop in front of you, his black combat boots crumpling mud and leaves into the pristine white tiles. His fringe flopped down into his sparkling eyes and heaved a deep sigh. He didn’t even know where to begin, the problems were endless. Nothing was safe. No. It all had to change, now.
“We’re going to have to install a lot of personal cameras in and around your home…and we’ll probably have to restrict mail and parcels coming into you too—it’ll all have to be vetted before it gets to you”.
Wait? What? Was he serious?! He was going to read everything before it got to you?!
“Woah!! Hold on a second there—just wait a damn minute! What about my privacy?!”.
Jason scoffed incredulously. Were you serious right now? Did you really have no idea of the kind of trouble you were in? Had Sionis really not told you?
“You are in serious danger”.
You scowled, resting a hand on your hip, “Maybe so but I don’t exactly want you rummaging through my things! My mail!! There—there—”, you swallowed a little nervously, fighting the blush rising to your cheeks, “—Could be personal items!!”.
“Like what?”, Jason glowered back.
He couldn’t be that stupid could he? You looked at him, eyebrows raised high on your forehead. He didn’t budge an inch, glaring hotly. You flushed again, “None of your damn business! That’s why they’re called personal items!!”.
Jason bristled at your uncooperative nature, huffing out a large puff of air, “Whether you like this or not, you’ve got to listen to me, I’m here to keep you out of trouble”.
“Trouble?! What do you mean by that?!”.
Trouble?! Did he mean that? You’d never done anything bad your entire career. You’d been the golden girl— always. You prided yourself on your good morals and nature. Even when your dress had caught on the red carpet that one time and flashed your pants, you’d still managed to play it off. Thankfully. Probably something Roman did, but still. It was besides the point. You glared at Jason, unable to believe the audacity of the man. You’d be calling Roman the second Jason was out of earshot. How could he hire him? Ugh.
Taking a deep breath, Jason skimmed a hand through his unruly hair feeling the tension radiating off him. He knew this would be tough but this wasn’t what he was expecting at all.
“Look—Sionis hired me to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing happens. So whilst I’m here, we need to set some ground rules down”.
“I’m a fully grown woman…this is all completely unnecessary!”.
Jason barked out a laugh, “Yeah—a fully grown woman with death threats hanging over her head…do you know the things they’ve threatened to do to you—do you?!”. He’d never read anything quite as awful as the things in those letters, the tweets. Vile. Disgusting. How anyone could—he didn’t want to dwell on it.
A breath caught in your throat, threatening to choke you. There was a wild, unreadable look in his eyes and it silenced you. The threats must have been disturbing to cause that sort of a reaction. You shook your head timidly.
“N-no…”.
Guilt swamped him immediately. You didn’t deserve that. He’d promised Sionis he wouldn’t divulge, knowing it’d scare the hell out of you. He’d fucked up already. Shit. He swallowed slowly and slipped his hand into the pocket at the front of his jeans.
“I’m sorry…I know this is tough and it’s a lot to take in but, things are gonna have to change. I’m going to have to be by your side, 24/7…this is really serious Y/N”.
You nodded softly, looking down at your bare feet. Your deep purple nail polish was chipped. Almost a reflection of your inner feelings.
“Okay”.
Jason internally smiled. He’d made some sort of ground with you. There was a short silence, filled only by the muffled sounds of the birds from outside.
“I—I made up a room for you…third door on the left at the end of the corridor. I cleared it all out and put fresh bedding on for you”.
“Thank you”, Jason bent down and grabbed his duffle off the floor, “‘ppreciate it”.
The space between you both was awkward, filled with unspoken tension and silence. Jason wanted to say so much but he didn’t know where to start. This wasn’t the best first start, he wanted it to be different. Better. Christ, he’d dreamt of meeting you plenty of times before this. None of it ended like this. He started to flush at the thought, pink creeping up his neck. There was no way he could let that interfere with his work.
“I’ll—”.
“I’m—”.
You both laughed awkwardly, eyes meeting briefly. He saw a hidden glitter there. No photo would ever do you justice.
“I’ll see you later Jason”, you gave him a slight smile before disappearing down the hallway into your study, closing the door behind you quietly.
Jason looked up towards the ceiling and closed his eyes in frustration.
“Fuck me”.
————
After he’d finished unpacking his belongings, Jason flopped back onto the bed in the centre of the room, sighing as he hit the softness of the pillows. This was way more comfier than his bed at home. He sank further back and closed his eyes, the mattress easing the pain in his lower back. Just as he felt himself drifting into a relaxed state, his phone chirped to life, vibrating obnoxiously along the bedside table. He grunted and reached over to grab it, rolling his eyes at the caller ID. Harper. God. He couldn’t catch a break. How could he be so unlucky in such a short space of time. What did this idiot want?
Jason slipped his finger across the screen and sighed, “It’s not even been 2 hours, what could you possibly want already?”.
“2 hours? Is that it? Feels way longer—must be missing you more than I thought…So, come on, gimme the gossip…how was the first day? Have you managed to keep your cool or have you blown your load already?”.
“You’re a fucking idiot”, Jason sighed, feeling the embarrassment and annoyance curdling in his stomach.
Roy laughed loudly and grinned, “Ok— so, what I’m reading from that response is, things haven’t gone to plan”.
Jason rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripped from his voice, “Of course they haven’t! I’ve come in and completely disrupted her life”.
“For good reason”.
Jason sighed, he wished you had the same view, “She doesn’t see it like that”.
“Well no, she won’t”, Roy laughed at Jason.
“You’re not really helping here”, Jason’s voice was strained with frustration.
Roy stunted his cackle, “So…what happened?”.
“She just wasn’t very receptive of me…or the security plans”.
“Maybe she's playing hard-to-get”, Roy teased playfully.
Jason grunted, “Roy, this isn't a rom-com”.
“That’s what you’re saying now but before you know it…look Jay, women aren’t complicated Jay, just be yourself”.
Jason shook his head emptying of any wandering thoughts, “This is just a job, a very irritating job”.
Roy scoffed, “Yeah? If it was just a job, why are you so bothered? You’ve handled clients worse than her”, he coughed deeply covering up the next word “Wilson”.
“Please”, Jason shuddered at the thought of Slade, “Don’t remind me of that Karen”.
Roy cackled deeply, “I think you rather enjoyed it”.
“More than this job”, he growled irritatedly, “She just keeps whining about ‘her privacy’ like I’m going to go through all her shit. I don’t wanna raid her stuff, I’m just here to do a job and to do that I have to check things…surely she understands this?!”.
“Jason…”, Roy put his hand over his forehead, sighing, “You’re so dense sometimes…”.
“What? What do you mean?!”.
Roy laughed, unable to believe he was about to explain this to his best friend, “Jay…she’s a single woman, what do you think she means by privacy…or her private things…”, he internally face palmed. He wasn’t sure if Jason was usually this stupid or if his little crush was blind siding him, “Bet she fucking flipped when you said ‘bout installing personal cameras…I mean, come on Jay…don’t you ever think?”.
Jason sat up on the bed suddenly and let out a strangled sort of whimper, “Roy—I am going to choke on my foot if I keep talking to her—I can’t—”.
“Christ Jay!”, Roy cut over his friend loudly, “Just act normal around her!”.
“You say it like it’s easy!”, Jason ran his fingers through his hair, hoping the movement would somehow soothe him.
“We both know I’m a bigger hit with the ladies Jay-bird”, Roy smirked, lightening the mood instantly.
Jason sighed deeply before looking at his closed bedroom door. He knew he’d have to leave shortly, do some rounds of the place and maybe go out to get you both some food, “I need better friends”.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about Todd—I’m the bestest friend you’ll ever have—or need”.
“Harper”.
“Yeah?”.
“What kind of food goes down well with—you know—”.
“Fucking hell Todd”, Roy laughed unable to contain it any longer, “Get her a burger from Pauli’s, bet she hasn’t had one of those in years”.
————
Jason knocked on your study door, waiting a while but received no answer. The take out bag swung low in his other hand, the greasy smell wafted up his nostrils. Enticing. His stomach rumbled again and he scoffed, how could he possibly still be hungry? He knocked again before taking an executive decision and pushing open the door. If you screamed at him, he’d just have to take it. Hopefully you weren’t doing anything too private in here. He shoved the thought down fast before it consumed him. The sight that met his eyes melted his heart. You were slumped over your computer desk—fast asleep, the blue light casting a beautiful glow over your skin. You looked heavenly. Better than any ad or poster he’d seen of you. You looked so natural. Fuck—his heart skipped a beat—or two.
From what Jason could tell, you’d been working on another song, papers scattered all around you, a pencil still lodged behind your ear. He wasn’t sure how you pulled off both sexy and adorable but you did.
Your laptop was old, the colour faded at the corners. If he was forced to guess, he’d say this was your old college laptop. A worn out sticker was stuck on the side, he could barely make it out, not without getting closer and disturbing you.
He dropped the take out bag down onto the table beside you gently, so as not to wake you and then tiptoed back out, silently closing the door behind him. He’d had enough experience of that sneaking out of Wayne Manor in the middle of the night with Dick. Jason smirked to himself as the memories flooded back.
He just hoped the take out would go down well and you’d realise that he was here to stay, but, more importantly, it didn’t have to be all that bad between the pair of you.
————
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abiiors · 5 months
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red lines - pt. 1 ║// matty healy x reader
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a/n: i want you to read this very very carefully: i am pro-choice and i will always be pro-choice. and this is a work of fiction. also feel the need to add that this is more a collection of small vignettes??? ugh idk, hope you enjoy regardless cw: *deep breath* angst, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of vomit, (and other pregnancy symptoms), crying (so much of it my god) and arguments, mentions of smoking, illness, hospitals, panic attacks, reader has a good relationship with her mother so i guess that's a cw too, (most definitely inaccurate) descriptions of birth. wc: 4.6k
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two red lines is all it takes to ruin a perfect life. 
two red lines repeated twice on two different tests that stare back at you from the counter—innocent and white and damning. the bathroom is utterly still, save for the tap dripping one drop every seven seconds. you would know, you counted it, used those seven seconds to ground you and stop you from spiraling into another panic attack for the three minutes it took to get those two red lines. 
pregnant. 
with two more weeks left on tour by matty’s side. 
gingerly you wrap them in toilet paper, make sure they’re safe and secure and nothing’s peeking out. you throw it in the bin, looking at it with a deadness on your face that you feel deep inside. then you call the reception and ask them to take out the trash. 
matty isn’t here. he’s on stage, serenading thousands of people who hang on to every single word he says, looking at him with all the love and adoration in the world. matty, your matty, who belongs as much to you as he does to the people, the fans. you should have been there too but there was the migraine and the nausea that wouldn’t go away. so you told him you would just sleep it off tonight. 
have an amazing night, babe. break a leg. and then a sweet kiss and a promise to see him tomorrow. 
and then the two red lines.
every time you blink you see them flash in front of you—like a promise or a warning. or maybe even a sentence. 
pregnant. 
a baby. 
a cause for happiness and celebration. 
and the conversation from a week ago that lingers in your mind, echoes inside your skull as if those words are the only ones you remember. 
i’m just not ready love, he says, not now. maybe not for another year or two. i don’t know, babies are a lot of work. and i am a lot of work. 
i love you, he says, kissing you deeply and tasting his own cum on your lips. i love you but a baby right now is a hard no. 
nothing in particular spurred this conversation really—just the two of you, naked, and tangled up in the sheets, his hand caressing your lower stomach and you letting yourself daydream. who knew the daydream was indeed reality? and now here you are, head in your hands—partly from the migraine, partly from the anxiety—waiting for him to be back. 
he will change his mind, you know it. matty loves you, and this baby is half you, half him. he will come around and you will be there to soothe his worries. you know he will hear the baby’s heartbeat and fall in love. 
you know he will treat them like the most precious thing in the whole world. 
the thought makes you smile and the door creaks open. 
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“pregnant,” he looks at you warily, “what do you mean pregnant?”
the small smile on your face fades away. “pregnant with a baby, matty. what other kind of pregnant is there?”
you wonder if you meant to joke, if he will break character and laugh and everything will be okay again. maybe you just caught him by surprise, this is just a blip. in two more minutes, he will smile and drop down to his knees and kiss your still-flat stomach. he’ll say hello to them. tell them he loves them and then tell you how much he loves you, kissing you gently and pulling you into him. 
you can already feel his feather-light touch on your skin. his mouth lingering on your lower stomach on his way down. 
matty stills in place. 
“no…”
one word, it’s small and broken and so unlike him that you almost do a double-take. 
“what do you mean no?”
“i can’t okay?” his voice rises, “i told you i can’t!”
you can sense the agitation he feels, his hammering heartbeat and the shallowness of his breaths. his hands runs through his hair, spilling the curls everywhere. 
“you’re on the pill.” 
“i think…” you hedge, tears gathering in your eyes, “i think i missed a day.”
he snaps his head up to look at you. when matty first came back to the room, he looked happy and giddy—cheeks pink and hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. now he looks grey and listless. like all the colour’s been zapped out of him. 
“you missed a day,” he repeats. 
“matty, please…”
but matty is already turning around and storming off to the balcony. through the glass you watch him light a cigarette with shaky hands, taking a deep drag before he tips his head back and blows it out. another drag, another blow. eyes closed. breathing that slowly goes from rapid to normal once again. 
five minutes later, only the stub remains and matty is back in the room. 
“i can’t,” he says firmly. “i told you i wasn’t ready.”
it sounds final. like a death knell. instictively your hand covers your stomach.
“i won’t,” you shake your head and the tears fall rapidly, first down your cheeks then your chin and onto your chest. “i won’t get rid of it.”
matty stares at you quietly, you stare back. it seems you’re at an impasse. 
twenty minutes later, you pack your bags. 
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london is greyer than it has ever been, especially from your new flat so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. not that you’ve had much time to get acquainted with the new area after being bent over the toilet for days on end, retching and heaving until there’s nothing left inside you. a hollowness so deep that no amount of food or water will fill it. 
so you eat strictly for the baby. pre-natal vitamins and supplements and a nutritious breakfast that you throw right back up. but you try. all for the sake of the tiny clump of cells dependent on you. the image of the two red lines has long been replaced with a grainy black and white rectangle. every time you close your eyes, you see the screen lit up with an image of your little bean, moving around. in some far back corner of your mind, you think they look happy.
at night you curl up on your cold bed, phone in hand, the baby’s heartbeat playing on repeat. it used to be his, your brain reminds you painfully. back when you slept all cuddled up with him. head on his chest, his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.
you mother is worried about you. she calls at least thrice a day to make sure you ate every meal and took every pill. she comes every sunday to stock you fridge full of vegetables and fruits and make sure you have enough ginger and peppermint tea. sundays, begrudgingly, become your favourite. your mother, once again, becomes your best friend. 
but you can’t let her move in. can’t let her be a constant presence and drive you crazy and unearth him every chance she gets. so like clockwork, at 6 pm, you usher her out the door, tell her you need privacy and quiet and solitude. like every single time, she promises she’ll be back next sunday. 
and every single time she keeps her word.
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one day you wake up to a change—a small one, really, but a change regardless. barely even noticeable at first. it’s your top that doesn’t reach all the way down. maybe it shrunk in the wash, you think. then the full length mirror reminds you of the reality. and the tiny little bump that’s seemingly grown overnight. 
your little bean. suddenly so real. so tangible. so present. 
“hello, little one,” you coo at your stomach, feeling a little silly at first. there’s no reply, of course, just the sounds of morning traffic coming in from the open window. but your eyes stay trained on the bump. “you weren’t so noticeable last night.”
nothing happens. no movement (of course, not. they’re too small for that.), no one appreciating the change with you. matty who should have been here to witness this…
matty who isn’t here to witness this. 
emotions swirl in your head so fast that it’s dizzying. this time there’s no tears falling one by one. there’s the sobs that come all of a sudden and the floodgates that open in the blink of an eye but he is not here to hold you or pull you into his chest when you gasp and gasp for a breath that never comes.
in a panic you dial the first number you can find in your contacts, gasping and yelling out broken sentences and panicking at whoever’s picked up. it’s 8 am on a wednesday, whoever you called must be utterly bewildered. yet when you can focus enough, you realise it’s a man’s voice replying. a familiar voice. shocked and equally panicked and asking you if you’re okay again and again. 
you pull the phone away from your ear and look at the screen. at adam’s name flashing on it. 
the first contact on your list. one starting with an a.
“fuck,” you mumble. “sorry, i’m okay. i’m fine.” and then you hang up, and rock yourself back and forth on the ground until your breaths resemble something normal. 
fifteen minutes later, there’s pounding at your front door and the bell rings incessantly. in your gut you know it’s adam. and it’s confirmed when his voice floats through the door. 
“open the door,” he urges. “i need to know you’re okay.” 
and so you pull yourself back up, harshly wipe away the tears and unlock the front door. 
it’s only been a month since you last saw adam but he looks different. his hair’s grown out, his dark circles are gone and in spite of the worried look on his face, he looks happier somehow. healthier. 
being back home with the love of your life and your baby will do that to you.
“you look well,” you croak out and then clear your throat. adam doesn’t take the bait. 
“do you need me to take you to the hospital? call your gp?” straight to the point as always. you smile at him fondly. 
“no, no i don’t. i’m okay, i promise.”
“you didn’t sound okay.”
“i meant to call my mum, adam. sorry i dialed the wrong number.”
“regardless,” he holds up a hand. “can you please talk to me. or talk to mat—”
“don’t.” the voice that comes out of you is stern. “he doesn’t want me or the baby. i will not let him talk me into an abortion.”
adam winces and rubs a hand over his face. perhaps that was harsh, you think, he’s not some evil villain. but none of it changes the outcome. in every single universe, you end up here—fresh off a panic attack in your living room, talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. 
“how did you know where i live?”
at that he looks a bit sheepish. “i asked you mum. not today!” he reassures hastily when your eyes widen. “don’t worry. i asked her a few days ago. i wanted to… i’ve been meaning to check up on you.”
“and you couldn’t call?” you smile at him wryly. 
“no. i wanted to see you in person.”
“so you can report back to him?”
adam clicks his tongue and warmth fills your chest. he’s always been good to you, always been kind, and loved you like a little sister. you shouldn’t have cut him off like this. 
“no,” he says. “so i could make sure you were okay.”
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it’s a small mercy that the morning sickness eases a few days after that as your bump continues to grow. more often than not, you find yourself with a hand on your stomach, drawing small circles on it and humming to it. lately, you’ve also noticed the little flutters that linger long after you stop humming. your baby responding to you. showing you they’re there. 
it’s not far before you approach the twenty week mark. the most important scan you’ll have throughout. you’ll find out the gender, you’ll find out if they’re healthy or not. 
and each time you think about it, it’s like the weight of the entire world is on your shoulders. 
the night before you contemplate calling your mum, nervous and panicked once again but it’s almost 11 pm. she would be deep asleep by now—she would be excited too. no need to put a damper on her mood. 
then you wonder if calling adam is a good idea. but you quickly scrap it. 
for the first time in months your finger hovers over the familiar name in your contacts. over the little heart that’s still next to his name that you never bothered to change. 
what will he say if you called him now? will he even pick up?
are you ready enough to brave it? 
the truth still remains. you want this baby, he doesn’t. the same impasse you were at months ago. if any of that had changed, he would have called you. he would have reached out… right?
so instead you do the second stupidest thing. you type up his name in google. 
your stomach churns with nausea or anxiety or just impending doom while the webpage loads—slow, too slow for your liking. or maybe time has simply slowed down and you’re too much of a coward to really face the consequences of your own action. 
the webpage loads. the frown on your face deepens. 
nothing. rather, the last article written about him specifically is from two days after the tour ended. everything after that is either recycled news, or some silly quiz about the band. nothing about him. no pap photos, no social media activity. absolutely nothing to indicate he’s even left his house in the last few months. 
you mind buzzes with all kinds of thoughts, swirls with wicked possibilities. you almost even text adam about it before the turning your phone off abruptly and chucking it to the other side of the bed. 
no more temptation. 
sleep is like a fickle friend—has been since the day you left the hotel room in tears. but you close your eyes and imagine your baby’s heart beating inside you in sync with yours. tomorrow, there will be a new recording to replace the older one. hopefully one that’s stronger. calmer. 
when sleep drags you under around three in the morning, you dream of his hands—fingers gingerly touching your stomach, resting on all the spots that flutter with movement. gentle hands that massage your sore feet and work out the kinks in your back. 
hands that you might never feel on your skin ever again.
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the doctor smiles coyly and slides an envelope to your mother. it’s a little hush-hush secret, one she insisted on and begged till you relented. the gender reveal isn’t huge or flashy but you know there’s a cake waiting for you at home along with a few friends and family. and for the first time in months, you let the excitement of it wash over you. 
the scan was perfect! and now you feel a bit bad for clutching your mum’s hand hard enough till she’d winced (even though she hid it quickly and smiled at you in encouragement). so now here you are, thanking the doctor and practically skipping out the room with your mum laughing in tow. 
she looks lighter too, you realise, much more carefree as she gushes about her precious grandbaby and how excited she is to meet them. 
“we have to buy onesies!” she squeals getting behind the wheel and you laugh.
“we will, mum, but they’re going to grow out of it in weeks so you can’t go crazy, okay?”
she dismisses this with a wave and a pfft and you can already imagine the mountain of clothes she’s going to buy over the next twenty weeks. 
you nod off to the sound of your mum excitedly making plans for an elaborate baby shower, one that you’ll have to beg her to tone down, but her voice fades away soon. instead, you dream of him. your subconscious wonders what he would have been like today—maybe he’d cry out of excitement or being overwhelmed, maybe he would smile so wide his cheeks hurt. in some parallel universe the two of you would be in the baby aisle—hand in hand and cooing over tiny onesies. 
in this universe, you jerk out of the daydream just as your mum parks in the driveway. 
your friends and family don’t yell “surprise”, much to your relief. there are many hugs and congratulations. tears of happiness and jokes and then a delicious vanilla cake brought in front of you. 
everyone waits eagerly. no one brings him up. not even you, as you sink the knife into it and cut a slice. 
it’s pink. a gorgeous, pale pink. it’s a girl. 
everyone cheers. your mum hugs you and you sniffle into her shoulder while laughing giddiy. a girl, your baby girl. 
right then you know what you’re going to call her—you don’t need baby name lists on google or a hundred suggestions from your mother. you already know her name. 
mia.
mine and mine alone.
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blink and twenty weeks go down to fifteen and ten and then five. each day it seems like you only get bigger and bigger, impossibly so. your life is filled to the brim with baby stuff, inside and out. everywhere you look there’s either a pram or a crib or pregnancy books. every time you get one spare minute you’re reminded of the back aches and sore feet. the constant hunger that just does not seem to go away no matter how much you eat.
your mothers visits increase from only sundays to whole weekends to three days a week. 
at first you protest—fuelled by hunger and hormones and mood swings. fuelled by the rage of a thousand burning stars as you stomp into the living room where she’s folding yet another batch of baby socks and blankets. 
“you’re suffocating me!” you snap, already on the brink of tears while she looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. 
“baby—”
“no! mum,” a deep breath and a few stray tears, “i’m not a baby. i’m having a baby for fucks sake.”
“language!” she scolds.
“stop it, just, please!” there’s not much you can do but stomp your foot like a petulant child. proving her point most likely. “stop acting like i need to be coddled and protected. just. stop!”
your mum looks speechless, too stunned to speak but the ball is rolling and now you cannot stop. 
“i don’t need you here. i don’t need you acting like i would crumble and wither away without you. i don’t need you and i certainly don’t need him—fuck!” you gasp for a breath, choking mid-sentence. 
the second those words spill out of you, you want to take them back but it’s too late. her eyes are already red-rimmed and glossy. one tear rolls down her cheek and that’s all it takes for you to break down completely. 
“fuck!” you repeat. “i’m sorry, mum. i’m so sorry.” that’s the only thing you can chant until she chucks the clothes aside and wraps her arms around you, shushing you the best she can through her own tears. 
for the first time in eight months you wonder about what if. and for the first time in eight months, you think about his words from that night. 
maybe not for another year or two.
you’re closer now to the one year mark that you’re to that night. mia kicks your insides again—her own version of support or maybe it’s her doling out punishment for never introducing her to her dad. either way, it’s not helping. all it does is spread pain throughout your lower body as you hold onto your mum, rocking back and forth. 
“it’s alright, sweetheart,” you mum whispers gently, kissing the crown of your head and cradling you like she used to when you were a kid. it makes your emotions worse. increases the ache tenfold. 
“i miss him, mum,” you admit finally, in a voice so small that you might as well not have spoken. but she hears it anyway. she hears it but doesn’t interrupt. she lets you speak. 
“every single day i wonder if he even gives a shit. or if he regrets leaving me, leaving us. i speak to adam and carly and i wonder if they ever tell him about me. i wonder if he even cares…”
you gulp down air, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your jumper and cuddling into her further. 
“and after everything. i miss him more than anything in this world.”
there it is. the truth, finally out there, finally spilled after months of pretending to be cold and callous. you wait for her to speak, to say something that will dull the pain and release you from this torment but she never gets the chance. 
because that is the moment your daughter decides to make her grand entrance.
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it’s pain like you’ve never felt before. 
pain and panic and unadulterated fear. she’s not supposed to be here yet. you’re only 35 weeks pregnant—nowhere near full term. what if this affects her negatively. you blame and blame—first yourself; you must have done something wrong, right? ate something wrong or not taken the right vitamins or slept the wrong fucking way. then you blame matty. if he was here, you would have never been this stressed and unhappy in the first place. everything would have been smooth-sailing. 
and yet a small part of you yearns for him to be here. to brush your sweaty hair away from your forehead instead of your mother as the doctor yells at you to push. 
it’s all too much, all too soon. this is not how it’s supposed to be. this is not how any of this is supposed to be. 
the machines around you beep in a rhythm that’s all worng—it’s too loud and erratic and out of sync with the rest of the world. surely, that’s not how fast your heart’s beating. maybe the beeping is something else you’re unaware of. and yet your body feels hot and cold at the same time. too weak to move but pushing and contracting and tearing you apart from the inside. you’re vaguely aware of the screams that tear out of you, of gripping your mum’s hand so tightly that you worry, you’ve bruised it. 
but she’s strong, stronger than you’ll ever be. she endures and passes along some of that strength to you. 
“one more big push,” the doctor encourages. she’s a kind, middle-aged woman. probably someone who’s brought many babies into this world. she knows what she’s doing. but your body won’t cooperate. 
all you feel is a bone deep exhaustion that tries to drag you under as your mother taps your cheek. 
“a big push, baby,” she repeats. “one big push and her shoulders will be out.”
and that would almost be the end of it, right? so you nod with whatever’s left in you and breathe the way they taught you in birthing classes. 
and that’s how it goes. inhale. hold. exhale. gather strength. push. all of it done to a constant stream of rather futile encouragements. until you feel like you’re bursting at the seams and coming undone. about to unravel any moment. 
but then a tiny cry echoes around the room and the world comes to a standstill.
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mia’s arrival changes everything in the blink of an eye. 
you have no time left for self-pity; every waking moment is occupied with feedings and nappy changes and laundry. you sleep when she sleeps, you hold her close every chance you get. you sing her and cradle her and shower her with enough affection for two people. she has you and your mum. she doesn’t need anyone else. 
slowly you let other friends and family visit—extremely selective and protective about who gets the priviledge but one afternoon when adam messages you know you can’t deny that to him. even when you’ve tried to keep him, and all of them by entension, at bay. 
in another universe, she would have been his goddaughter. you’re sure of it. 
so you let him and carly and their son visit, let them hold her and gush over her. carly instantly falls in love with her, cradling her close and trying to make her smile even though she’s just woken up. mia babbles at her and grabs her shiny necklace. 
you watch them transfixed, giggling at carly’s squeals and coos until adam asks if he could speak to you alone. 
“i don’t want to step over a boundary,” he starts and you know what’s coming but you let him continue. “have you thought about letting him know? that she’s already here…”
“i…” in all honesty, you had wondered if you should call him and let him know. but what if he still doesn’t care. “i didn’t. i couldn’t.”
adam’s face softens. “he’s back in london, you know? you could. you could try.”
that piques your interest. you hadn’t knows he’d left in the first place. “he’s back?”
adam takes a deep breath, eyes darting slightly and lingering on his wife as if he’s trying to steel himself. as if he has some news he’d rather not share. in the end however, maybe he chooses not to.
“yes, he’s back,” he says, trying and failing not to sound cagey. “he wasn’t until now. but if you would talk to him… just, i think you should talk to him.”
for the rest of their visit, his words linger in your mind. they stay even after the hanns leaving, promising another visit whenever you’re free next and you tell them they’re welcome any time. this time, you even mean it from the bottom of your heart.
but adam’s words come back to haunt you day after day as mia continues to grow. day after day you watch her learn about new things and figure out new stuff around her.
matty should be here. if not for him then for her. and once again you wonder about calling him.
one last chance. if he ignores this then he loses the right to his daughter forever.
so one tuesday morning, you gather the courage. you strap your baby to your chest and go downstairs to make some pancakes.
“after breakfast, darling,” you tell her, even though those words aren’t meant for her. “after breakfast we’ll call him again. maybe he will pick up. maybe he won’t.”
mia babbles when you kiss her head and flip a pancake, ignoring the worry that settles in the pit of your stomach. you’re so focused on the task at hand (rather, at ignoring the thoughts of impending doom) that you almost miss the doorbell that rings once and then again.
so focused that you have to scramble to wash your hands and rush to the door. maybe it’s your mum again, even though she wasn’t supposed to come today. it won’t be her first surprise visit, though. she misses her granddaughter far too much for that.
in a hurry you open the door, without even thinking about it twice. without even bothering to unstrap your daughter from your chest.
matty’s familiar face comes into view and for the second time in three months, the world comes to a standstill.
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omgcinnamoncakes · 1 year
Text
So, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days Dreamling AU
It starts as a bet because their friends are horrible, but Hob and Dream are worse.
Hob has had bad luck with relationships, after Eleanor. It’s not because he doesn’t try, it’s because he tries too hard. He’s lonely, has been for ten years, so he gives too much and it always ends with him alone, again—
(“The problem is that you’re too fucking nice,” Johanna says, gesturing with her drink. Some of it spills on the table and when Hob takes a paper napkin to wipe it off, she slams the drink down on it hard. “See, too fucking nice.”
Hob sighs and shoots her a glare. “I am not too fucking nice. I just haven’t met the one.”
Johanna rolls her eyes so hard Hob’s sure she’ll have a migraine later. Rachel pats his shoulder, but her face tells him she is on her girlfriend’s side.
“Et tu, Rach?” he says, and she shrugs.
“Remember Allison?”
Hob groans. “Her dog died, ok? I couldn’t just break up with her.”
“You let her stay at your place for free for two months and even paid for the bloody funeral.”
“Yeah, but—“
“Oh!” Johanna says, smacking the table. “Whatshisface, the hipster with the stupid tattoo!”
“Oh, I forgot about that one, ugh,” Rachel says with a grimace and when Hob opens his mouth to protest, she continues with, “You paid for his vacation in Paris and let him go with the guy you knew he was sleeping with!”
“It was a conference,” Hob supplies weakly. He doesn’t dare to comment on the other part.
“And remember that redhead with the cats?” Johanna says, and Hob grins and drops his head to the table with a, “Fine, I get it. Stop kicking a man when he’s down, okay?”
Rachel pats his head gently, and Hob closes his eyes. The table is sticky, but slightly cool under his cheek. “It’s not like I don’t try, you know.”
“That’s the problem, Hobsie. You try too hard,” Rachel tells him gently.
“You need to learn to be a dick about it,” Johanna adds, and then claps her hands. It’s too loud and too gleeful for Hob’s comfort. “I��ve just gotten the best idea.”
“Oh, gods.”
“Shut up, you’ll love it.” She pokes Hob’s skull until he lifts his head. He immediately regrets it, Johanna looking way too cheerful. “How bout you try it?”
“Whatever drug you’re on?”
“No, you bastard. How about you try to be, well, a dick?”
Hob frowns and turns to Rachel to find some sanity. Rachel, unfortunately, looks pleasantly intrigued. “No, she has a point,” Rachel says. “Maybe that’s what you need. Find someone and try to not try. Let yourself not care.”
“God knows you have enough ideas going by your past relationships. Just do what has been done to you.”
Hob shakes his head. “An eye for an eye, Constantine.” He takes her glass and takes a sip, grimacing at the sharpness of the alcohol. “And how would that help, exactly?”
“Cognitive behavioral therapy,” Rachel says. “Maybe if you learned to be less nice, you wouldn’t get burned so often. Worth a shot.”
“Be a dick to get properly dicked!” Johanna says, stealing her glass back from Hob. Hob huffs out a laugh with another shake of his head. It’s stupid. And yet.
God knows he’s tried everything already. He thumbs at a scratch in the table thoughtfully, and thinks about all the times he’s tried, and always failed miserably. Maybe they’re right. Maybe he needs to be tougher, harder in the way he shows his heart. Maybe, just maybe.
“Okay,” he says, and both women cheer. Johanna downs the rest of her drink in one go, and immediately starts looking around the pub.
“Now, who do we choose?”
“What, now?”
“Yes, now,” Rachel shushes Hob. “Before you change your mind. Oooh, how about the woman at the end of the bar?”
“Lesbian pin on her bag,” Johanna says, and Rachel pouts. “Bloke by the jukebox?”
Rachel makes a face. “With that hairstyle? Gods, no. He looks like the kind of guy who read Ayn Rand for pleasure.”
“I am starting to regret this,” Hob says, and is ignored by both women.
Suddenly, Rachel’s eyes widen and she grabs Johanna’s chin to guide her. “That one.”
Johanna’s eyes widen. “Really?” She tilts her head as she stares over Hob’s shoulder. “Hmm. Maybe. The legs. You know he’s always been a legs man.”
“And look at that jawline.”
“Hmm, yeah. I kinda see your point. Oh, he’s looking over here.”
“For crying out loud,” Hob says, and turns around and then immediately freezes when blue eyes meet his. “Oh.”)
— and on the other side, there’s Dream. Dream who always keeps himself closed off, guarded. Who loves so deeply he’s scared it will drown in, so he keeps himself closed off. He’s been in relationship after relationship and it always ends with his partners leaving because he can’t ever be enough—
(“I think you need a crash course on how to be a human being,” Desire says, smirking around the strew of a ridiculously colorful cocktail.
“Desire,” Leta warns, but when she turns to Dream she looks apologetic as she says, “I think what our sibling is trying to say is that you need to be more open to experiences.”
Dream bristles, but when he opens his mouth to retort, Leta places her hand on his gently. “Look, I know relationships are hard. But keeping yourself closed up like an armadillo every time someone shows you affection is not good.”
Dream swallows against the sudden sadness in his throat, but does not pull his hand away. “The last time I opened up, it didn’t turn out too well for me.”
“Fuck the Burgess’,” Desire spits, and then rolls their eyes. “Seriously, fuck both of them and especially that rat faced Alex.”
“For once, I agree,” Leta says.
“You can’t let that fucker win. It’s been years,” Desire says on a long drawl, and then pins Dream with a look that verges on gleefulness. “Or you want them to win? Is that it?”
“I do not like what you’re implying.”
Desire leans forward on the table, read lips parted on a grin. “I think that you’re too chicken shit to actually do anything about it and are still using that bastard as an excuse.”
“Dee,” a warning from Leta, but immediately followed by a worried look at Dream.
Desire ignores her warning and Dream’s glare. “I bet you can’t do it.”
“Do what exactly?”
“Let yourself be happy for once. Let yourself just be.” A smirk tinged with a challenge. “And I’m willing to bet anything on it.”
Dream feels irritation spike across his skin at the challenge, and he gazes back at Desire, unflinching. “This is ridiculous.”
“Pussy.”
Dream knows he’s being goaded into something here, the push and pull part of the foundation of his relationship with desire, and yet he can’t help the need to fight back.
“And what could you bet that I would want?”
Desire tilts their head like the cat that got the canary. “The non-profit.”
Leta’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and she lets out a low whistle. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” Desire says, placing their palms on the table like this isn’t a pub, but a board meeting. “You go and finally get that stick out of your ass and date someone, actually fucking date them like a human being with feelings, be attentive and caring and show them how much they mean to you, and I will hand over the reigns to the non-profit mom and dad gifted me.”
It is ridiculous. Yet Dream can’t help the spark of want in his chest. He looks at Leta, but she just stares back with curiosity and just there, barely hidden in the twitch of her lips, the same challenge as Desire.
“Fine,” he says, turning to his sibling. “It’s a deal.”
Desire’s smile is sharp like that of a wolf’s, before their eyes slide away from Dream’s and start looking around the pub. Dark red nails tap on the table.
“Now, who shall we choose?”
Dream opens his mouth to retort, but Leta pushes at his shoulder to get a good look around. “I think I have just the one. Saw him come in an hour ago, gorgeous brown eyes. Just your type,” she says, bumping her shoulder to Dream’s.
“I do not have a type,” Dream says, even if she’s right. He’s always found brown, soulful eyes to be exquisite. She smiles like she knows she’s right, and points at a table.
Dream follows her gaze with a frown. He sees two women pressed up against each other, both on the happy side of drunk, and a man sitting with his back to them. His hair is on the long side, curled softly against his nape, and he has a wide built, shoulders strong even under his blazer.
As he stares, the man turns around and their eyes meet.
Dammit, Dream thinks. His sister was right.)
They start talking that night, under the eyes of their respective friends and family. Hob is fascinated by this man in front of him, tall and dark and all sharp corners, but at one point he makes him smile and the edges of his face turn into something gentle, beautiful.
Hob knows this is a lie. He doesn’t expect Dream to stay forever. There’s something freeing in the thought, though. In knowing he can just not care. Dream won’t be here two weeks from now. Which is why it makes it easier to lean forward at the end of the night and say, “Can I have your number?”
And Dream looks down at him with a weird expression, before he smiles. He pulls an actual fountain pen from his inside pocket, and pulls Hob’s arm towards him. His thumb presses to the inside of Hob’s wrist, where his pulse plays a broken melody.
He writes his number on Hob’s forearm, and then leans forward, eyes glued to Hob’s and blows over the skin until the ink dries.
Hob’s mouth goes dry, and Dream smirks.
“I expect a call tomorrow evening,” he says as he lets go of Hob’s wrist.
Hob breaks out of his daze and grins. He can play this game. Because it is a game, isn’t it. He presses forward, until his lips barely brush Dream’s. “Only if you make it worth it.”
Dream’s inhale is loud, and perfect.
(And then they spend ten days being stupid, and they fall in bed and fall into each other and fall in love. While being stupid about it. Hob is a lovable asshole and Dream is sweet like the sharpness of summer fruit, and they try to not be themselves and yet fail miserably at it, cracks in the facade that the other lashes onto until truth comes out.
And lots of kisses.)
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