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baddiewiththebook · 6 months

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ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 3]

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n Oh, my god. When I tell y’all that everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. I stayed up all night writing and editing just to get it out today, so you don’t have to wait another week when I’m off from work again. Yesterday, I was going to surprise y’all with a back to back upload, but when my laptop died and all of my content got deleted, I needed a pause. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Part 3 of a series I didn’t know would become a series.

[Part 2] Part 3

-> <-

You decide to wake up at five because your eyes wouldn’t stay shut any longer. Ripping the blankets off your body, the cool air nips at your skin. You shove your toes into your slippers. Tripping over your tennis shoes, you rethink how close you are to your desk. Feeling around for the corner, you find the desk and you begin to aim yourself the other way. You yelp when your waist collides into the doorknob and you silently curse to yourself while trying desperately not to wake your family. Shuffling through the dark, you take mini steps to your bathroom.

Closing the door behind you, you flick on bathroom light. Squinting, your eyes adjust and the shock of the bright room dulls. You use the toilet first, before your bladder combusts. While washing your hands, you meet your own face in the mirror.

Mornings weren’t your best look. Your hair mats to one side because you’re a side sleeper. Sometimes when your sick you’ll lay on your back to keep your stomach from getting nauseous. Instead of drying your hands on a towel, you toss them back into your hair to mold and shape what’s on your head. Massaging your scalp, you forget your worries for a moment. You wash your hands of the hair that sticks to your hands, and then you dry them off.

You bounce back from the shower when you twist the hot water handle. Water splashes in your face anyway. Steam breathes into your bathroom and you almost feel suffocated by the hot air. That’s what wakes you up in the morning. You strip, then step inside allowing the beads of hot water to bake your skin. The soap you use is plain and boring. It moisturizes the layers of your skin without leaving a scent behind. You watch the bubbles drain below you.

Leaving the shower is harder to you then getting back in. Your day will begin as soon as you step out. Going to school feels like a chore. Your classes all have projects due by the end of the week or by the end of the month. Then there’s the obvious boy you are trying to avoid. Before you can imagine any lewd situations between yourself and him (and trust that you have plenty), you switch off the water to your shower.

You don’t like washing your face in hot water, so you wait until your dry and you have a towel wrapped around your body. The icy water pricks at your pores. You dry, and you apply a thick layer of moisturizer to your skin.

Finding yourself vulnerable in a towel, and thrown into darkness once again because you have forgotten your clothes in your bedroom, you shimmy across the hallway once again.

When you choose a lotion, you act as though you won’t pick the same option you have been for as long as you can remember. The label reads ‘Fruity.’ Simple enough. Throwing on an extra spritz of perfume to compliment the lotion. You like to spray perfume while you’re bare to ensure the smell sticks to you, rather than your clothes.

Wrapping yourself in your robe, you want to take a peak at the sky. Rain clouds form above. Gray all day. You happen to, also, see that Eddie’s trailer is dark. Wayne Munson’s truck is on, and he’s in the driver’s seat waiting for the engine to warm. He goes to work early, and he stays late. That’s how you got to spend so many days and nights at Eddie’s growing up.

You’d tell your mom that you were spending the night with your friend Robin, and she would cover for you in a heartbeat. She must have known what was going on before you did. Did that even count - if you didn’t know?

You shy away from the window.

Going through your closet, you find an acceptable pair of denim that’s right on your hips and loose at your ankles. The striped sweater you call your favorite will scratch at you skin all day, so you put on a plain shirt on underneath.

If the you from a few months ago, saw you sitting at your desk whipping out all of the tools and the sponges that it took to apply makeup to your skin, you’d shrivel in a corner and cry. You got used to the feeling of the brushes against your skin. The way your face feels with a bit of foundation. And the sticky feeling of mascara pressing on your eyes.

As you finish powdering your nose, your stomach growls. Your hungry.

The sun is beginning to wake, and you’re able to move through the home a bit smoother. You find yourself in the kitchen pawing through the refrigerator. No one has gone grocery shopping in a few weeks, so your options are limited.

You take the box of Honey Comb cereal off the top of the fridge. A bowl off the drying rack will do, and there’s even a spoon next to it. You pluck out your mom’s cigarettes that she “hides” inside the box. She doesn’t count them when she smokes, so you know that you can sneak one into your pocket for later.

After pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, and stealing your mom’s cigarettes, you grab the milk from the fridge. It’s heavy. When you open the milk the rancid sour odor spoils your appetite.

“Jesus!” You curse.

The expiration reads about a week ago. Gross.

You toss the milk.

Even though you’re completely grossed out, you shovel a few bites of dry cereal down your throat. Dipping your head under the sink for a drink of water, you slurp down the crumbs sticking to the sides of your mouth.

By the time you’ve brushed your teeth, your watch reads seven fifteen in the morning. If you head to school now, you’ll be there by seven thirty.

That’s exactly what you do.

The drive is quiet. Most of the town hasn’t woken yet for their day. Shops still have signs in their window that read ‘Closed.’

You’re allowed into the cafeteria with the other early birds once you get to school. Finding a group of girls you’re in home room with, they welcome you for a study session.

“You look so pretty,” Michelle gushes over your makeup.

You smile. “You too. I love your shirt.”

“I got it on sale,” she tells you the name of the store. “We should all go shopping on Saturday.”

“Girls day out!” Lisa snaps her fingers. “Count! Me! In!”

The three of you small chat for a bit, before you dive into your awaiting assignments. They’re there to help you. You reciprocate the action when they want advise.

The school bell rings.

You pack up, and you wave goodbye for now. But, you’ll see them again in just a few moments when you get to class.

Heading to your locker for the first time in months, you have to try the code twice. The third time’s the charm. You take the specimen in your locker between your index and your thumb. Finding the nearest trash can, you throw the moldy sandwich away. At least the smell hadn’t penetrated through the bag yet.

You’re just zipping up your backpack after ridding yourself of about a hundred pounds of unnecessary textbook weight when someone shouts at the end of the hall.

Petty squabbles between students, you’re usually able to ignore. However, as all the noise is headed in your direction, you hear your name in between cursed and yells. A catastrophic tornado blows your way. Your feet are firm to the ground in terror.

Roxie’s purple, and about to blow a blood vessel judging by the vein nearly popping out of her neck. Hot on her trail is petite Indie, who’s begging for Roxie to just listen to her.

“Hey, you!” Roxie jabs her finger in your face.

Indie tumbled over her own feet, “Roxie!”

You check over your shoulder in hopes that someone might be there. No one is there except a few onlookers she’s drawn in her tirade. Now, you’re thinking. Eddie couldn’t have spilt the beans this quickly. Could he?

“Oh, I’m coming for you, bitch,” she snarls.

You’re toast.

Roxie is larger than you in all retrospects, but she’s especially big in muscle. If she’s about to pummel you, then you’ll be knocked over and split in two like a pin and she’s the ball going a hundred miles an hour.

“Can’t we talk this out?” Indie asks through gasps of air.

You stare between them. Indie isn’t after you by the worried expression she holds. Still unsure exactly what Roxie’s prattling on about, you decide to wait before you interject.

“Is there something going on between you and Eddie?” Roxie demands.

See, you knew their relationship wasn’t casual! Still, you did nothing wrong. Yesterday, you didn’t even express to Eddie that you liked him in the first place. You wanted to drop the conversation, and he kept going. This is his fault. Why isn’t he about to get a fist to the face? Who’s to say he hasn’t already? Yikes.

Roxie sucks her tongue to her teeth.

“Uh-,” you’re still loading in the information, and you hesitate to answer right away. “N- no?”

“Is that a question?” Her hot breath hits your nose.

You bring your hands down to your sides because you can’t let her see you trembling like a leaf. If she smells fear, she’ll know she’s won. Her prey is hers for the taking.

You’re tired of this. “Eddie and I have nothing going on. We’re just- just friends.”

You have a hard time saying that, but not for the reasons that Roxie has in mind. You’re not even sure if Eddie wants to be your friend anymore.

“Okay,” she sticks her tongue into the flesh of her jaw, and then says. “How come last night he moaned your name instead of mine?”

Blood rushes to your ears. Your face is on fire, and you’re sure everyone can see so.

Onlookers jeer and whisper amongst themselves. Rumors are already beginning from mouth to mouth; and, hitting ear to ear.

You would also like to understand what she meant by “moaning your name.” Spare the details. Obviously, you knew what happened last night. You wipe the winner’s smirk off your face, before Roxie even notices.

“I don’t know,” you fold your arms across your chest. “Shouldn’t you ask him?”

Roxie squares her shoulders. She clenched her fists until her knuckles are white. Cursing a few more angry words your way, she’s a bull ready to charge. You might as well be wearing all red.

“What’s going on here?!”

Miss Brown sticks her nose into the hallway and notices the crowd of people. Before anyone can do anything rash, she pushes her way into the center of the chaos. With an ostentatious sort of sigh that suggests she’s better than all of you, she starts breaking up the fight.

“Off to class,” Miss Brown shoo’s them.

“Let’s go, Roxie,” Indie grits her teeth.

Roxie eyes you one more time. “Fine. I’ll be seeing you later.”

You gulp.

It’s time to play a new game around school: Hide from Roxie! Winners get the very rewarding prize of not getting their face beat in.

You dart from class to class all morning. A huge target sticks to your back with Roxie aiming for a bullseye. Meanwhile, Eddie is still no where to be found. He’s probably hiding under his sheets at home, full of shame when he mistook your name for hers.

That’s just fine by you. You still didn’t want to see him either. Or, maybe you did. First, to clear the air about you liking him. A little flimsy crush isn’t going to break a friendship, right? You’ll get over it in time. Secondly, you’re sure that him naming you is a big misunderstanding. He just got distracted or something.

After lunch was over, you planned to sneak through Mr Campbell’s empty classroom. He doesn’t have afternoon classes, and you can easily shoot through since there is a door on either side of the hallway.

“Over there!”

Roxie has the cheerleaders involved now. No doubt they want a piece of judge, jury and conviction too.

Colliding into something solid, you topple over onto the tile. You’re swept away in thought and you forget to watch where your going. Mr. Campbell has that skeleton on wheels that he’ll leave just about anywhere. But, you haven’t knocked over that stupid skeleton.

It’s Eddie.

“Oh, God,” you rub your backside.

Eddie gasps, “What are you doing?”

“What am I-,” you snap. “What the hell are you doing? Your girlfriend almost tackled me like linebacker!”

Eddie shushes you. “Do you want her to hear? She’s not my girlfriend. I told you it’s casual.”

“Casual?” You want to yell, but you also don’t want her to hear. The last thing you need is for Roxie to see you in the same room as Eddie. “Whatever you have is not casual.”

“I messed up, okay?” He rubs his temple. “Jesus!”

Your chin lifts at the familiar brrring of the school bell. Now, you’re skipping class. You’ll get another hour of detention no matter if you stay here or go to class.

“You’re hiding from her too?” You conclude.

Detention doesn’t matter to Eddie. He just wants to ensure you’re okay. Judging by the way you’re creeping through empty classrooms, you’re doing just about as good as he is.

"I'm not hiding," he jumps when someone's locker slams. "Okay, so maybe I am hiding."

"This is so humiliating," you cry.

Eddie apologizes, “I’m sorry-,”

“You’re sorry?”

You’re grateful that the light in the room is limited. Otherwise, you don’t know if you could have a conversation with him right now. Eddie has these eyes that you could simply drown in.

“It was an accident,” he claims. “You’re the one who said-,”

“I didn’t say anything,” you correct him. “You’re the one with the wild imagination.”

“Wild imagination?!”

“Maybe I do like Jeff, hm? Or- or maybe I’ve come to realize that Gareth is a great guy. Did you think of that?” You stand before him, while he scrunches down into a chair. “Eddie Munson you’re selfish - no, you’re self centered. All about Eddie- it’s Eddie’s world and we’re all just there like puppets on strings.”

“You done?”

“No!” You snap. “Yes.”

“How could you call me self-centered when you’ve been prancing around this place like the rest of the guys don’t exist? Everyone wants to know where you are all the time. Why would I know? Oh, because you’re supposed to be my best friend,” Eddie rubs his hands across his face. “God, when did things get so complicated?”

"When you started calling me one of the guys in middle school, and I just wanted whatever you wanted,” you admit out loud. “Why do you think I changed when Gareth mentioned Roxie? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Eddie’s unreadable. Although dark, you can see his thoughts bubble and burst.

“It doesn’t matter,” you continue. “You don’t like me like that.”

“Who’s to say that?” Eddie’s voice comes out barely audible.

You shake your head. “Don’t pity me.”

Eddie kicks the stool from under him, “I’m not.”

“Eddie,” you pick at your nails. “What we have is a great friendship. I’m lucky that you’re in my life. I don’t want to risk messing that up. Are- are you okay with that? Are we okay?”

Eddie doesn’t want to leave the air so broken. While the words are spelled out in front of him, he can’t find a way to bring them out.

“We’re okay,” he says.

-> <-

Flicking a green bean on his plate with a fork, Eddie can’t be bothered to bring the food to his lips. Nothing passes his mouth. He watches the ice crystals on his steak defrost because he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne to worry that he’s messed up dinner, since this is the first one they’ve shared in a while. Wayne told his boss that he wanted to be home tonight for Eddie, and here he is.

“You’re not eating?” His uncle points out because Wayne has eaten half of his meal, and he worries that Eddie is appearing a bit gray and slender.

Eddie replies. “I ate a lot at school.”

“In the years that you’ve been under my roof, you haven’t stopped eating,” Wayne lowers his head to meet his nephew’s eye. “Try again.”

Eddie pushes the microwaved dinner aside. A low hum comes from the television, and he’s not even sure what’s on. Someone’s bobbing around like a baboon trying to make a woman smile. Yet another attempt from Wayne to make Eddie relive his childhood, he guesses.

“That girl your seeing isn’t pregnant is she?” Wayne presses when Eddie won’t talk. “Eddie Munson, I’ve told you to use a condom-,”

“No,” he cocks his head to rethink. “No, she’s not.”

Even if Roxie was pregnant, she’d get an abortion and make Eddie pay for it. Actually, he still owes her for the condoms.

Eddie wants to be done with women for a while. But, there is still this pinching on his ears that reminds him you’re still there. He’s actually wearing a pair of your studs that you forgot at his house one day. Since Eddie is prone to losing just about everything, he’s decided to wear them so they don’t get lost. No one even notices except for him. They hide behind his hair.

“Look,” Eddie wets his lips. “If I tell you, then you have to promise me you won’t do that weird ‘oooh’ thing you do. Got it?”

Wayne claps his hands together. Say no more. He’s solved the case! That little lady across the park has had her eye on him since the day Eddie moved in. Wayne really likes her. ‘Thinks she’s a great ball of sunshine that can keep Eddie under control. He’s been just waiting for Eddie to wake up and smell the coffee!

“Really?” Wayne excites.

Eddie exhales. “Don’t-,”

“Wait,” he lectures. “You’re not seeing both of them are you? Eddie Munson that is wrong, and I won’t tolerate that behavior. I taught you better.”

“No-,”

“Seriously, boy. Wear a condom. It’s not just for you, but her too you know?”

“Wayne-,”

“You can’t be spreading your butter on everyone’s toast.”

“Wayne!”

“I knew it,” he blabs on. “Ever since I caught you two brushing each other’s teeth. Oh, I saw this coming - I did!”

That incident happened once, and Wayne would never let Eddie live that down.

You smoke one joint.

After sitting in his room complaining of boredom, you tell Eddie you had never brushed someone else’s teeth before. He hadn’t either. You wanted to try. But, Eddie would only let you if the offer went both ways. Wayne burst in when you were scrubbing his tongue. You splattered toothpaste all over the mirror, while Eddie tried to keep you from squirming so he could scrub your teeth.

“You need to learn how to knock,” Eddie tries sailing with the conversation his old man is going on about.

Wayne challenges. “You know there’s no closed doors when you have girls over, Eddie.”

“Oh, my God.”

Reliving the memory, Eddie wants to make more with you. Cooking. You’ll cook. He’ll burn food. You’ll tell him he’s doing a wonderful job anyway because you’re too sweet to tell him to get out before he burns the house down. Eddie visions that you’ll teach him a better way to organize his clothes. You’ve already tried to show him how to fold, but Eddie only lasted a week doing your method before going back to shoving the clothes in whatever drawer is the least bit full. He’ll now admit that he only let you teach him because he wanted you close. He wants you close. Always.

It’s not just domestic stuff he sees. He wants to take you on a date. Many dates. He wants to take you out of Hawkins, even if it’s for just a day. He misses your laugh. Seeing you cry today broke him. Knowing that you’ve changed everything for him, and he didn’t notice. Because at the core of all the makeup and the hair, he guesses, that he just didn’t care. He loves all the extra, don’t get him wrong, but all he can see is you.

“What are you going to do, boy?” Wayne wonders.

Eddie replies in a question, “What if everything goes wrong? I- I can’t lose her, Wayne.”

“Son-,”

“What if I just turn out like him? Like my father?”

Eddie’s lip quivers, as he bites back the tears he’s been holding onto for years. Not a day goes by does he not miss his father, even if the years weren’t kind to him. His father is locked away somewhere in State, but he hasn’t visited. They’ll take one look at Eddie and they’ll try to lock him away too.

“That’s not you, Eddie,” Wayne opens his arms. “Come here.”

Eddie drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder. Tears slide down his cheek and across his chin.

“Deep breaths,” he rubs his hand across Eddie’s back.

He doesn’t cry for long, and Wayne wipes his tears when he’s calmer. This isn’t a usual interaction between them, but neither of them care. Wayne takes away a stray eyelash from Eddie’s cheek.

“You like this girl?” Wayne says as a fact more than a question.

Eddie nods.

“You have to try,” he insists.

“Yeah, okay,” his nephew agrees.

Wayne and Eddie end their conversation there. Eddie eventually eats (after microwaving the food because he could have broken teeth on that steak), and the show that his uncle makes him watch isn’t half bad. Their night comes to a close when his uncle snores.

Mouth agape, head tipped over and his feet propped up, Wayne would be out for the night.

Eddie tucks his uncle’s toes beneath the blanket Wayne was hugging. Tip toeing his way into the kitchen, he puts both forks into the sink along with their drinking glasses. The TV dinners find home in the trash can. While Eddie left the television on to lull his uncle in his sleep, Eddie flicks off the living room and the kitchen lights. He sneaks off to his bedroom, the only bedroom in the trailer. Wayne gave up the space for Eddie to grow into.

Eddie finds that sleep won’t do.

You project onto his ceiling like a film about his life. There you are. Every new milestone. Eddie didn’t think about just how many times you were there for him. His birthdays come to mind, even the ones he didn’t want to be there for because he doesn’t always feel like he deserves to be celebrated. You’d sneak off to get him a beer when his uncle was distracted with all the other kids invited.

When you kept him from going outside, while Wayne drove up in his brand new van that was a gift for Eddie when he got his license. Wayne took on extra hours just for him. That might just have been the night his heart beat a little faster for you. Watching you perform songs in your living room in that ridiculous feather boa and sunglasses, Eddie’s drawn to laugh at the memory of you out of tune and off key. You didn’t care. The hair brush you swore was a microphone was just not working that night. You’re much better performer in the shower, you’d said.

Eddie sits up in bed, and he can see that your bedroom light is still on. Your curtains are drawn, but your silhouette dances about. Bouncing up and down will sometimes get rid of your last bit of energy, Eddie’s witnessed your routine first hand. Your wild, and Eddie finds this fascinating.

When your silhouette disappears, but the light remains, Eddie concludes that you’re reading a chapter book. You told Eddie to try reading sometime because that’s what helped you get to sleep. He bought his first book that very same day.

The Lord of the Rings was your suggestion. Not that he hadn’t found it first, but he wasn’t about to point it out. Eddie sees the book hidden under a lighter he used last night.

Smoking seemed obvious to him. He couldn’t sleep, so he would light up. With Wayne home, though, Eddie didn’t want the smell getting to him. He’s pretty sure Wayne knows he smokes by now, and he doesn’t care. Eddie isn’t a reckless smoker by any means, and he keeps to himself. If Wayne found out he was selling, that would be a different story.

Never the less, Eddie reads page after page of the same book he’s been fascinated by for weeks. He immerses himself into the books wishing he could be the hero, rather than the one who runs in the face of danger.

Eddie hears your front door open and close. This interests him and tips his head up. Tossing the book aside like he’s suddenly been hypnotized, he looks through his window.

You’re on the porch in thin pajamas and a robe. A lit cigarette slots between your fingers. You only smoke when you’re stressed. Pacing back and forth, Eddie understands that you’re talking to yourself. He just can’t make out the words.

This is creepy. Eddie shuts his window, and sinks back in bed. Leaving you alone - leaving you alone.

The words in his book blur into blobs of unrecognizable text. All he can see right now is you on that porch. You’re alone - and you’re probably cold. He has a blanket that he could offer. Maybe he could- no, he is leaving you alone.

Eddie wants to untangle the knot he has in his belly. He even tries to convince himself that he’s still hungry. But, he knows he won’t eat. You’re there. Even if you were caked in mud, you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Actually, he has seen you caked in mud before. You were definitely hot then too.

Oh, God. What was he doing?

Pulling open his closet now, Eddie finds a jacket to slip on over his pajamas. He takes an extra blanket with him. It’s a bit torn up, but the blanket is clean. Wayne washed the blanket a couple of days ago, along with Eddie’s sheets which he claimed he could smell from across town. Eddie was not that dirty. It was the weed - but, er - don’t ask about the stains. He doesn’t know what they are or where they came from. Seriously, don’t ask.

Wayne is still snoring in the living room. He mutters in his sleep when Eddie opens the front door, and he doesn’t see Wayne stir once the door shuts.

His uncle stretches, and wakes up enough to take a leak in his bathroom. By the time he returns to the living room, he catches a glimpse from the window in the living room. His boy is with you on your porch making you smile and making you blush.

Wayne doesn’t need to spy. He’s seen this movie before when his brother made moves on his girl. It’d be a few more years until Eddie is born, but the picture is already there.

“Atta boy,” Wayne cheers to himself.

Eddie’s sitting with you, and sharing a cigarette. You’re not sleeping either. Dried black makeup you haven’t smudged off is stuck under your eyes. He wants to swipe it away, but he doesn’t know if he should.

“Is your mom in tonight?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head. “No, but my dad is such a deep sleeper. He’s nothing to worry about.”

Eddie worries about your dad catching him there with his only daughter, then your mom who likes to call you both “crazy kids.” Your dad is stern. Overprotective. He’s jokes about having a gun locked away somewhere, but Eddie still has no idea if he is joking. You won’t tell him because truthfully you don’t know.

“What’s got you up?” Eddie brings the blanket closer to you because he sees your shoulders dance.

You shake your head blowing out smoke to the left where Eddie isn’t.

Eddie takes a drag from the cigarette after he says, “I don’t think I’ve been all that honest with you.”

He reads your face.

“Not like that,” he can’t look at you, so he counts the floorboards of your porch. “I said we’re okay, but I don’t think we are.”

Your heart skips in your chest. “What do you mean?”

While Eddie might not be able to look at you, your eyes are all on him. In the moonlight, he’s like this shiny thing. You can’t put your thoughts into words, but he’s carved by the shine of the moon. He might hide his face with his hair, but when he hunches over you relax a bit.

You haven’t been able to put yourself in bed. Knowing that Eddie was there had wrecked your mind. You’re itching to be near him.

The whole day you thought about nothing, but him. How unsatisfied you are with your earlier conversation. You thought being the one to take charge in the conversation, and assert yourself, might make the blow easier. Truthfully, it hurt even worse.

You spent the evening sobbing in your room like a baby. Friends. You signed your name at the bottom of that contract. But, then, you thought about the day you’ll find a nice boy that will like you back. You’ll get married. You’ll get a house. Everything will be okay. But, as you thought about your life, your mind wondered about Eddie. What happens when he finds a girl? He’ll have a wife and he’ll have a house too.

You’ll be at that wedding. Sitting in a chair that’s not too close to the front, but also not all the way in the back. The band sits in front of you. They might not be able to pronounce the brand name, but their check cashes on their suits. All of your friends are his friends.

Eddie’s fiancé is faceless, but her gown is breathtaking. They’ll say ‘I do.’

You’ll cry along with them, but the tears you shed are ones you let out at a funeral. Are you just supposed to sit there and pretend like you don’t want to throw up?

Because that’s not you standing at the alter.

That’s some chick he’s met on the road while he tours with the band. Sure she’s great. But, the sight sickens you. Maybe that means your selfish, but you can’t do this. You can’t see Eddie with another woman. You refuse to see it because Eddie’s always been with you.

“I’m sorry?” You’ve spaced out while Eddie is speaking.

He begins to say, “please don’t make me repeat myself.”

Throwing the cigarette to the ground, you stamp out the flame. You wrap your hands around his neck, and you pull him forward. Eddie's lips meet yours in an awaited embrace. Longing and passionate. His hands burrow into your hair pulling you ever closer. The tender touch of his fingers fall to your waist to tell you he's not going anywhere.

You can't be sure which one of you pull away first. But, when your eyes open you breathe a sigh of relief. Eddie is still there, and he's about as hot in the face as you feel. You let out a breathy laugh, and he hides his grin behind his hair.

It doesn't take long for him to ask,

"Can I take you out sometime?"

And, of course, you say. "Yes!"

-> <-

tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia @sofaritsalrightt @thisisktrying @somethingvicked @sebastiansstanswhore

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson preference #eddie munson imagine #angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things preference #stranger things fic

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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. “They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier. Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

#xu minghao #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #minghao imagines #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao #seventeen imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #📝 writing

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pellucid-constellations · 7 months

Text

angstober (3)

Prompt: "But I love you"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: This takes place at the beginning of civil war :) ANGST!! I love angstober <3

You can also read my angstober drabbles here and here (if you wanna)!!

~~~

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

God, how things were supposed to be different.

Bucky rummaged through a backpack he’d thrown in the corner of your apartment sometime last month. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, you were left wondering just how many items he’d strewn about his life, a randomized placement of his belongings all ready for him if he needed to bolt.

Would he take you, too? Were you not something he considered his?

“Bucky, talk to me. What’s going on?” you tried. You’d already asked that same question in three different ways. After he’d barged through your door with his hoodie drawn up to his chin and his hat low on his forehead, you’d bombarded him with questions. He hadn’t answered any of them.

And he was wearing gloves. He hadn’t worn gloves around you in a long time.

“I can’t tell you. Can’t stay here.”

You were grateful for a response this time, at least. You tracked him with your gaze as he zipped up his backpack and moved through your kitchen, removing pots and pans from your cabinet in a loud, clattering motion. He reached his arm in until his elbow disappeared within the wooden doors and then pulled it back out, a gun now firm in his grip.

“When did you put that in there?” you startled, uncrossing your arms from your chest. You were still in your pajamas. Bucky had gone to get breakfast and left you in bed. And now he was leaving.

“A while ago,” he responded, the words barely forming on his lips.

He was moving again before you could truly voice your bafflement, shrugging the bag over his shoulders and readjusting the straps. Panic surged through your chest and up your throat. He really was leaving. You knew he’d been running from something when you met all those months ago, but there had been nothing wrong when he left this morning. You made him feel safe. He wanted to stay with you. He’d told you that himself.

You reached out a hand and he jolted at the contact, gaze shooting up to meet yours. Your eyes flickered between his own, desperation clear in your expression as you pleaded with him. “Don’t leave. Tell me what’s happened.”

Your hand burned on his shoulder but you couldn’t remove it.

He looked almost as ruined as you did, but there was something else behind his eyes. Determination, maybe? Resolve?

“I can’t.”

It was the shortness that ultimately broke you. You heaved out a pained breath as your waterline filled, letting your hand drop. Your arm swung uselessly down to your side and you bit into your lip as your eyelashes gathered moisture.

Bucky’s stoic demeanor fractured, a tiny sliver showing you the man you’d come to know. The one you’d carved out from cold, hard stone. It had taken you weeks to get him to smile, even longer to get him to finally kiss you. When he spent the night for the first time, he was too stiff to hold you. But that was all different now. He was different now.

He had told you he wanted to stay. That he wanted to keep you safe.

You saw that part of Bucky as his lips twisted into an uncomfortable grimace, his arms reaching out to haul you into his chest.

“C’mere,” he grunted out, chin resting on the crown of your head. “C’mere, honey, I’m sorry.”

You cried into his chest, hiccuping as you asked, “Why are you leaving? I can come with you. I want to help you.”

He shushed you, running gloved hands along the back of your head. “Can’t, baby. Where I’m headed isn’t safe. I’ve been real lucky for a while but that luck’s run out.”

“Bucky, you can’t—”

“I’m not good for you here. I need to keep you safe and I can’t do that while I’m being selfish. I’d give anything to bring you with me, but I won’t put you in danger.”

You pressed your nose into his chest, willing the feel of him into your memory. You could hardly breathe like this, but that didn’t matter. When he left, when he was really and truly gone, you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

Your hardwood floor creaked beneath your feet as Bucky stepped closer and burrowed you further into his body, his lips pressing hard against your forehead. You hated this apartment—this tiny, cloistered space in Romania. It would only serve as a reminder of him once he was gone.

Maybe you would move.

But would he be able to find you, once it was safe? Would he come looking?

The thought made your chest constrict. What if he never came back?

Bucky pulled back from you, taking your face into his palms. His face scrunched up in displeasure at the tears still glistening on your cheeks, and he tried to remedy them with the pad of his thumb. They kept coming, even when you’d stopped crying.

“I have to go. Longer I stay here, the more danger you’re in.”

Your next words fell from your lips without hesitation, tears thick in your tone as you stressed, “But I love you.”

Bucky froze, mouth parting. You’d said it with so much sadness, so much heaviness in the words he’d been aching to hear for so long. You hadn’t said them yet because you didn’t want to scare him off.

But he was leaving now. There was nothing to lose.

The kiss he pressed to your lips was hard and rushed and a breath left his nose with so much tension a low groan accompanied the action. His fingers were gripping your jaw and desperately trembling. His feet were slotted between yours and you tugged at his jacket to bring him closer, closer, closer.

“That’s why I have to leave,” Bucky huffed out against your lips, eyes closed. He couldn’t watch as he left you. “I’m gonna find you again. Even if it’s in another life.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #angstober 2023 #day 18

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judasofsuburbia · 10 months

Text

So you’re looking to write some smut but feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure where to start. Smut writing comes easily to some and not others, and that’s okay! Here are some tips I’ve gathered over my few years of writing smut to take with a grain of salt! It's my opinion; you can always do what you want!! <333

It’s fiction writing at the end of the day. So, it’s okay if you haven’t experienced what you’re writing about or maybe you have experienced it but you find it difficult to put it into words. I’ve never fought a creature from the Upside Down but I’ve written about it because that’s what fiction writing IS!! You’re creating a story from your own experiences/thoughts/emotions and applying it to a made-up scenario. So don’t feel discouraged by your own personal journey, anyone can write smut!!

When in doubt, plan it out. When I’m really stuck, just simply grabbing a piece of notebook paper and writing out each event in a sequence, even in the most basic terms, can make things so much easier. For example: making out, blow job, hand job, prep, fuck. Write down positions (sometimes limbs can get lost in the sauce and it is so hard to figure out how they’re actually doing it lmao). Write down settings. Write down if one person is leading it more than the other or if they switch off. Write down desperation levels (personally, I think it’s more fun when desperation is very high but casual fluffy smut is fun too!!) This will help the writing process feel a lot less daunting.

More specifically, remember that prep is important. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been taken out of a smutty fic because they get to the main act (penetration, typically) way before someone should be ready to. Fingers, mouths, and lube (actual lube or something that can be safely used as lube. Blood is not lube. Blood is not lube as it is a liquid that dries quickly and offers no moisture so it will not help you penetrate anything, as hot as it would be.) Foreplay and prep can be a really good tool to establish a sexy dynamic between your characters and get the reader ramped up to read through to the end!

If you feel like the action part is getting too technical, this is where you can add in thoughts and emotions that will give your smut some personality. It can feel very silly to write, for instance, your character A thinking “Wow character B is so hot” but it’s a thought that would probably cross their mind!! Write out any nerves the characters are feeling or maybe even the confidence they’re feeling. Write out what sensations they pay attention to. Write out what they like and dislike. Write out what actions cause an immediate response from them (moaning, bucking their hips, groaning, eyes rolling, etc.) Write out how your character would verbally respond (Are they dirty talking? Are they praising? Are they degrading? Are they stuttering through their words? Are they incoherent because the sex is so good?) It’s important that your characters still feel natural and not like sex robots. Unless your story is about sex robots, then go off!!!

The thesaurus is your fucking FRIEND!! Smut can feel ridiculously repetitive, especially if you’ve written it before. I say every time I write a blow job scene that “god blow job scene is blow job scene is blow job scene” because that’s how it FEELS! Use your resources like the thesaurus or there are a million posts with other ways to say “said”, ways to describe a kiss, etc. Just be careful that you don’t fall into using words that seem unnatural to the flow of the story (for example, a lot of synonyms for cock are simply…unsettling and can take your reader out of the story). Find ways to creatively tell the same action again and again which leads to tip #5…

Go read some smut. The tag “porn what plot” is so unbelievably helpful. Even if the writing isn’t exactly your style or your preference, sometimes reading someone else’s descriptions of sexual acts can be helpful if you’re lost! I have a few faves that I go back to read to get inspiration and I have notes about what it is specifically I enjoyed about their work. While you’re at it, if a fic inspires you and you feel comfortable doing so, leave a comment! It’ll make the author’s day, I promise.

TAKE THIS TIP WITH AN ABSOLUTE GRAIN OF SALT but…go watch it. Or my personal preference, go listen to it. If I’m really lost, I’ll seek out audio porn that follows the same ~vibe~ of whatever I’m writing. There are many websites for this but Soundgasm is my go-to (it’s a free upload site so there are THOUSANDS of sounds and varying quality levels so it might take a second to find what you’re looking for)! Even a sexy playlist on Spotify can put you into a good headspace for writing. Just make sure you’re being safe and looking out for your own comfort levels. Never put yourself in a situation to experience something triggering for the sake of writing a good story.

All of this to say, it is so different to write smut than it is to write a regular plot. It can feel incredibly daunting to go about it and find the perfect balance between technical actions and thoughts/feelings/dialogue and then make it all cohesive in the end. It’s hard to do but it’s not impossible!

#i hope this is helpful in some way!!#writing #writing tips #fanfiction writing #smut #smut writing #fanfiction #archive of our own #writing tools #writing reference #references #reference

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wonfilms · 1 year

Text

warnings : tears, hurt/ comfort, referenced friends w benefits, angst

word count : 5.1 k

“how long will this go on for?” you could barely manage a whisper, your body felt so awfully cold even though hyunjin’s arms were wrapped around you.

his arm was heavy against your torso but it was nowhere near as much of a burden as the thumping of your heart against your chest.

he sat up in the bed next to you and cocked an eyebrow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you should’ve seen this coming. it was supposed to be a no strings attached contract, you’d both cleared that up the moment this… whatever this awkward little fling was, started. his eyes were slightly glassy, the moisture reflecting the soft moonlight that spilled through the blinds of the room.

his room, the one you’d spent many nights in, wrapped up in the sweet scent of his shampoo and the cotton of his sheets.

the smell used to be oh so comforting but now it bore a hole in your chest where your heart used to be, even the whiff of it burned your throat, so bittersweet in its wake.

“this wasn’t supposed to end like this” your words tumbled out your lips, “we were never supposed to be like this”

hyunjin simply rubbed his eyes tiredly, “you’re scaring me, seriously… what’s even wrong?”

his nonchalance made your blood boil, “i’ll tell you what’s wrong hyunjin?! i’ve been waking up in your bed for the past month. hell, i haven’t slept in my own room for weeks. we're supposed to be just friends, so what is this?”

his eyes held an almost guilty expression, avoiding your gaze as you stared at his bare back, your cheeks felt warm as he tumbled back against the pillow next to you again.

“i know that this isn’t what we agreed on… but we’re just friends right?” he swallowed thickly,

that hurt more than it should’ve done.

just friends.. but just “friends” don’t look at each other like that.

considering hyunjin your lover would only be foolish.

but… you’d be lying to yourself if you said you’d not thought about him like that, hell even now you were picturing him in your head as yours.

yours and only yours, that;s what your heart had led you to believe, you suppose that’s what spending every waking hour with someone does to you.

if you carried this on any longer you think your head would burden you as well.

love was not pleasure, nor was it lust… but at this point you could barely differentiate between them, when it came to hyunjin all of those emotions felt as real as each other.

“i think we should have a break hyunjin” your lips spoke monotonously, this would be for the best… right?

so why are your eyes flooding with tears at the mere thought of it? your thoughts almost blurred together, matching the incoherency of your tinnitus.

the silence was long but the words that took you almost by surprise.

“please look at me” you could hear the desperation laced in his voice. his hand placed itself atop yours, and you felt your heart drop at the soft sniffles that erupted from your side. it was too dark to make out his features but it didn’t take a genius to work out that hyunjin was crying. his stray tears dribbled down his cheeks onto your palm.

“i don’t want us to end like this.” his voice was gruff, barely audible and it made your head swim with guilt.

“how do you want us to end hyunjin..?” you spoke softly, wiping the sticky tears that were now flowing down your face away.

“i meant all of those things i said when we were half lucid” he looked down, thumb intently drawing sloppy circles around your knuckles, “it was never just words, it was how i felt… no .” “it is how i feel”

your faces were so close together that you could almost make out the outline of his lips and the sweet curve of his nose amidst the darkness.

“every i love you and every compliment” he carried on speaking , his forehead now leant against yours.. “i meant it all… and i don’t think i could forgive myself for lying to you like this”

you scoffed, pulling his hands into your lap, “what do you mean lying hyunjin?”

“i wasn’t supposed to fall in love, was i? ” he bit his lower lip to prevent it from quivering, “i messed it up and i made you uncomfortable… it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

you could almost laugh if he wasn’t being this awfully damn sweet, “you didn’t make me uncomfy hyun?”

“wait, i thought that’s why you were mad?” his eyebrows cocked up at your words.

“i was mad because i didn’t know what i meant to you but i think you’ve cleared that up for me” you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you recounted his indirect confession towards you.

“so what do i mean to you y/n.. ?” he whispered , voice laced with concern.

you leaned in to take his face into your hands, his breathing hitched in the back of his throat at your ministrations.”i don’t wanna be just friends anymore” you mumbled before pressing your lips to his.

that kiss felt different to all of the many others that you’d shared with hyunjin. there was a tenderness to it… something that was unmistakably love. just friends don’t look at each other like this, but maybe that was the reason it all felt like it was falling apart anyways. you and hyunjin weren’t made for being simply just friends.

lovers fitted the two of you better.

a/n : so it’s hyunjin’s birthday and i wrote him angst oops, anyways happy birthday to the prettiest boy on the planet , NOT PROOFREAD SO LMK IF THERE’S ANY MISTAKES THANK YOU FOR READING!!

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oftenwantedafton · 4 months

Text

Night Shift - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 5

Rating - Explicit

Warning for sexual content

Also available on AO3

Steve Raglan’s fingers are laced with yours.

It’s the sweetest kind of surrender; when he finally allows you to touch him and doesn’t resist or withdraw. His hand is so warm, so large against yours. You bring it to rest on your thigh and look at the union and oh, the somersault lurch inside of you hurts so good.

The interstate is empty, the highway yours, all those miles eaten up by the older man’s vintage sedan, bringing you closer to what you want.

Your unoccupied hand is lonely, craving more contact, tucking beneath the end of Steve’s sleeve, the smooth skin changing texture as you explore, idly at first and then with increasing curiosity. It’s not some random scarring; there are distinct shapes etched into his body. You drag the sleeve upwards to the crease of his elbow so you can see a little better, the illumination from the instrument panel confirming what you’d palpated.

“What are these?” Your throat is dry, the words coming out parched, dehydrated from the alcohol, from letting the man drink from your mouth, stealing away whatever moisture you’d had left.

“Work injury,” he says, glancing over at you, his eyes falling to the fingers that are tracing over the patterns so carefully, as if they are deciphering braille.

“From the social services office?” You ask incredulously.

“No. My previous job.”

“Which was…?”

“I owned a business.”

“I don’t suppose you could be any more vague.”

His lips twitch, but he remains silent.

“Did you ever work at Freddy’s?”

The hand in yours subtly tightens. “What?”

“You’re so familiar with the layout. Especially the back rooms that only staff had access to.”

“It’s part of my job to make sure new hires are performing well in their environment. Site visits are a requirement. The turn around for security at the restaurant has always been high. You get to know the place after awhile.”

You sense something’s off with his explanation but you decide to let the matter drop for now.

“Are you married?” The thought has been scratching at the back of your mind, an increasing worry.

“I was, once. Not anymore. She left.”

“Kids?”

“Yes. Also no longer in my life. It’s just me.”

His gaze is so carefully focused on the road. You wish he’d look at you; wonder if you’re being too probing with so many personal questions all at once.

“I’m sorry if I’m asking too many questions. I just don’t know anything about you.” You begin to tug the sleeve back into place but he halts you.

“You can leave it. Unless it bothers you. I should warn you now there are a lot more of those scars.” His eyes find yours.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” You release your grip of his hand so you can maneuver his arm better, finding your digits warm and damp, nearly cramped from being interwoven for so long. His wrist bends and seats along your lips and you press a kiss there before you resume holding his hand again.

“Is this the infamous dress?” Steve seems to notice what you’re wearing for the first time that evening.

“What? Oh, yes.”

“That is wildly inappropriate to do chores in, your previous assessment was correct. I’d love to see you try, though.” He smirks and you squirm in your seat. The hand clutching yours relaxes and gently pulls free and moves to the slit of the ribbed knit fabric, which stops right above your knee. “Move this for me, so I can touch you.”

There’s an awkward moment of you lifting your hips off the cushioned seat beneath you, gathering the spandex laced fabric in bunches at the sides so it lifts past your legs and hips and gathers around your waist. You hesitate a heartbeat longer, then decide to pull your panties down to make it easier for whatever he’s about to do. You can feel the arousal already dampening the crotch as you tug them free, leaving them on the floor by your feet.

The older man lets you sit like that for a few moments, his eyes still focused on the road, your exposed pussy leaking onto his car seat, and then his right hand hooks neatly around your mound and he slides two fingers inside of your entrance.

Your body reacts instantly, hips already lifting to aid him to drive in deeper, seeking more friction from his palm against your clit. You clutch at the bicep of the arm probing your insides, feeling the muscles shifting beneath the skin. He lets you fuck yourself on his fingers for awhile, controlling the pace at which you grind up and down, feeling more of your fluids leaking past his digits and onto the seat beneath you.

“The seat,” you pant. “I’m getting it wet…”

“Do you think I fucking care? It’s vinyl. Can always lick it off after.”

Fuck.

Your lazy, stuttering pace quickens and the man notices, no longer letting his hand remain stationary, his middle and ring fingers actively punching into you and curling, the wet sounds of that assault interspersed with your gasps for air and moans of pleasure. Your fingers scrabble restlessly against his arm. You need him to look at you when he makes you explode.

“Please.”

The car leaves the road, Steve carefully guiding the passenger side tires over the edge of the asphalt, the change in elevation jostling the hand against you. He spares a second to throw the car in park and then he’s on you, mouth crushing yours, switching hands so smoothly you barely notice the transition.

“Cum for me, honey.” It’s an echo of a command from your first night together and it’s more than enough to make your walls clench and spasm over his fingers as you find release.

His forehead drops and rests against yours. There is the sound of your ragged breath easing as you come down off your high. His own is rapid. You’ve gotten him so worked up.

“Take me home with you,” you whisper, relieved to feel him nod. You’d intended on having him bring you home, had envisioned inviting him inside, and beyond that just disintegrating thoughts of lust. But you need more of him. You’ve gotten scraps of information tonight but it’s not enough. You want to see where he lives, what his home is like. You want to take him apart on his bed in these, the early hours before dawn.

***

Steve Raglan’s house is on the outskirts of town, in an area with a lot of new construction.

His own looks relatively new as well, a manufactured one story building on a wooded corner lot with an immaculate exterior, from what you see briefly in the headlights before he shuts the engine off.

“You haven’t been here long,” you murmur as you enter a living room, finding the interior as tidy as the outside had appeared. It doesn’t surprise you, given how organized his office had been. He flips the switch on the wall and a lamp on a table beside the couch lights. Every furnishing belongs to a family of dark colors - black leather couch and matching wooden tables, black entertainment center, soft gray walls, darker gray laminate floors. There are no pictures or plants, nothing to break up the color palette or give any clues as to the identity of the owner. It could be a hotel or a showroom floor display.

“About a year.”

You wander into the kitchen and he follows, flipping another light switch for you. Granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, jet maple cabinets. Breakfast bar. Keurig on the counter by the double stainless steel sink. You tug the fridge open and glance inside, finding it’s nearly empty. “Yup, you’re single alright,” you laugh.

“I’m not home often. Don’t really have much need for a lot of things.”

You continue to explore, the older man trailing after you. Small laundry room. Two bathrooms, one with a tub, the other a walk in shower. You glance at the counter. “Purple toothbrush. You like purple.”

“Do I?”

“Mmm-hmm. You have a lot of purple ties, I’ve noticed.”

You find the first smallest bedroom has been converted into an office space. The second is used for storage, some boxes still sitting sealed on the charcoal carpet. And finally the master bedroom. Gray sheets, bed unmade, perhaps the only untidy thing you’d seen thus far, but he had rushed to rescue you, after all. A walk in closet, the door open. You step inside, brushing your fingers over shirt sleeves.

Steve leans against the bedroom doorframe, watching you with a look of bemusement.

You smile, sauntering over to the dresser, noticing a bottle of cologne. You bring the nozzle closer to your nostrils and yes, you detect that scent he always wears.

“So, what do you think? Does it meet your approval?”

“It’s very modern and clean. And empty.” You set the bottle down and walk towards him, letting your hands trail over his chest.

“Not as empty with you here.” You smile, wincing slightly when your head reminds you of the consequences of what you’d consumed so recklessly earlier. “How’s your headache?”

“It’s still there, but I really don’t care.” You struggle to swallow and remember how dehydrated you are. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of water, though.”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

“Have you ever had anyone over here before?”

“Never.”

You exhale a contented sigh.

“How about a bath? And you can borrow something of mine to wear.”

“Okay. After I use the bathroom. The drinks, you know…Do I still smell like booze?”

He smiles gently. “Terribly. And now it’s clashing with…” His eyes flick downward and you blush. “You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise.”

You're given some privacy to relieve yourself and then you open the bathroom door, watching as he gathers a plush looking towel from the linen closet set just inside the master bath, bending over to plug the drain and turning the chrome handles of both faucets. The mirrored medicine cabinet holds a spare toothbrush for you and pain medicine. Steve fills a glass of water and pushes down on the bottle with his palm, removing the cap and shaking a pair of tablets free.

“Open your mouth.”

You comply and he presses the pills against your tongue, then rests the edge of the glass against your bottom lip, gently guiding a stream of water into your mouth and down your throat. You have the oddest sensation that he’s done this before; maybe he’d administered medicine to his children at some point. He refills the glass and lets you finish it before he continues getting things set up for your bath.

He shoves the sleeve that’s still resting against his left wrist up, revealing a twin set of scars to the ones you’d seen earlier as he leans over to test the water temperature.

“Are you getting in with me?” You step out of your shoes and remove your shrug, letting it lay in a crumpled pile on the floor.

A soft smile. “Another time.” His eyes linger on your curves as you pull the dress over your head. “I’ll assist you though, if you’d like. In case you’re still unsteady.”

The alcohol had long ago burned through your system and you think he knows it, but you murmur an acceptance of his offer, turning and allowing him to unhook your bra. Every movement is gentle and unhurried. He’s taking his time with you and you love it.

“It seems we’ve forgotten your panties in the car,” he murmurs against your ear.

“I didn’t forget.”

You feel the smile against your skin as the fabric slides free.

“Alright, that should be full now.” Steve turns the faucets off and offers you a hand to support you as you step over the edge of the tub. You sit down, sinking into the warm water that’s verging just on the edge of scalding and it feels glorious.

“Good?”

“Perfect.” You cup some water between your hands and splash it over your face.

Back to the linen closet and he returns with a washcloth. Kneeling down next to the tub, he submerges the square while you reach for a shampoo bottle tucked into the corner.

“Do you take baths often?”

“Rarely.”

“I can’t remember the last time I did.” You let him pull the bottle from your hands as you shift your body, your face disappearing beneath the water’s surface, soaking your hair.

A dollop of a pink pearlescent substance sits in Steve’s palm, waiting for you when you reappear. It’s cool on your scalp when he smears it against your tresses. His fingers work up a lather, nails lightly scraping and it sends a pleasant tingle through your neck and shoulders. When he’s satisfied with the results he pauses to stand and retrieve the cup from the counter.

“Close your eyes.” You can hear him collecting a glass of bath water to pour over your head to rinse your hair, the process repeated many times, his free hand combing gently through until the suds have dissipated. “Okay you can open them now.”

You wipe at your eyelids, watching as he places a bar of soap in the center of the damp wash cloth, massaging until the cleanser has been worked into the fibers. He starts with your upper back and shoulders, rubbing small circles into your skin. You hum appreciatively, letting your eyes slide closed. It’s so soothing, having him touch you like this.

“You’re good at this.” You feel the motions now at the level of your lower spine pause.

“You think so?” He drags the cloth around to the nearest arm, working on the hollow beneath it.

You smile. “Yes.”

He finishes stroking along your forearm and you move, the now soapy water sloshing as you offer the other arm.

“You’re good at everything.”

He huffs a little at this unexpected bit of praise but you detect a faint smile before he plants a quick kiss on your forehead. The wash cloth caresses your neck and collarbones, dipping between your breasts before lingering perhaps longer than necessary on each, the nipples stiffening beneath his touch. So recently sated and already your pussy is tingling again, wanting more of him.

He works the lather against your abdomen and begins traveling across the top of one bent thigh, which unfolds, hitting the side of the tub gently. The cloth has been abandoned, his own hands now skimming across your skin, along the slope of flesh that leads to the fork of your hungry sex, stopping just shy of it. His eyes are on your face, going so dark. You tremble at the cooler ambient air striking your damp exposed skin.

Then Steve resumes his washing as if the activity had never been paused, a brief brisk cleaning between your thighs with the cloth in use once more before working down to your knees and calves and feet and then he uses the edge of the tub to push himself upright, wringing out the cloth and draping it over the side.

“Alright we should get you out before you prune up. Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He nods, reaching to unplug the drain and the water begins flowing away as he helps you stand. “You probably want to rinse off. Towel’s right here. The dresser with the cologne has shirts you can borrow. I’ll be in the living room, okay?”

“Okay.”

He cups your cheek and kisses you softly before leaving the room.

***

You stare in your reflection in the mirror as you drag Steve’s hairbrush—it’s some expensive looking one with a wooden handle and fine bristles—through your damp locks. You still can’t believe just a few hours ago you were sitting in a bar drinking to forget, now standing in Raglan’s bathroom desperate to remember every detail, snapshotting the taste of his toothpaste, cinnamon instead of the customary mint; the scent of the laundry detergent he uses embedded in the fibers of the plush towel; that first feel of his clothing on your skin, when you bypass the drawers in favor of one of the button front dress shirts hanging in the walk in.

You are very, very carefully not thinking about Mike. You think Steve is very, very carefully avoiding mentioning him.

You find the homeowner seated on the leather couch, the position more of a drape with his long figure, jean clad thighs eased slightly apart, one arm resting across the back of the couch. You continue walking until you reach his knee and stop.

“Do you mind if I wear this? I just…” you can’t explain it, just know that you like the way the material feels against you, the stretch of buttons dipping between your breasts, the way the hemline flutters loosely over your hips and ass.

“Not at all. It looks a hell of a lot better on you then it does on me.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s nice to see you in something other than your work clothes.” You pause. “You look so good.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He reaches out, fingertips grazing yours. “There are so many years between us. I forget that sometimes.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifty three.” Three decades divide you, then. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” you reply. It really doesn’t. If anything it only added to the man’s appeal. You move then, climbing onto his lap, straddling the long thighs he brings together to support you. His rests a hand on your waist, the other seated against one ass cheek, bare beneath the shirt. You supposed you could have borrowed a pair of his boxers, but really, what was the point? You had no intention of putting any more barriers between you.

You stroke his graying hair, so soft beneath your fingertips, disrupting the neatly parted waves. His skin is still so smooth, so untouched by sun from careers spent indoors, just a few creases here by his eyes, those amazing eyes that shift from pale blue to dark ink every time he sees you.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks gently, his voice a soft rasp.

“You’re beautiful.”

He laughs softly, surprised by this declaration, the amusement fading when he sees how solemn you are.

“You really think so?”

“I’m so crazy about you. You don’t even know how much.”

You see him frown slightly, his lips thinning. He doesn’t want to hear this. You can’t stop.

“You don’t have to say anything back. I just…I just need to get this out. Just this once.”

You feel his legs stir beneath you. “There are things in my past…” he begins, then abandons the thought and starts anew. “I was trying to tell you earlier. It would never be a normal relationship. I can’t give you what you want. What you deserve.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. Pretend if you have to.”

“I don’t want to pretend with you.” You sense there is something more he’s not saying, the implication that he is in fact pretending in some other regard threaded there, but he continues speaking and the notion evades you. “Sweetheart,” he sighs. “This was never supposed to go this far.” The hand seated on your waist tightens. “You’re going to hate me one day.”

“No. I could never.” You bend to kiss him. “My heart is so full for you.”

You feel the coiled tension in his frame ease as you kiss him again, his tongue now darting against yours. The fingers gripping your ass check dig deeper and the familiar warm ache resurrects inside of you once more. His mouth travels to your throat, the delicious abrasion of his beard made rougher at this late hour painting your skin in red swatches.

“Tell me something about you that no one else knows.” You’re pushing him so far tonight, but you feel as if you may never have this opportunity again, when he’s in this environment alone with you, almost vulnerable.

There is the longest pause, his mouth still, face tucked into the crook of your neck, and you wonder if he’s heard you or he’s refusing to answer or is simply mulling over the answer before he responds.

“My real name isn’t Steve.” The latter, then.

Of all the things he might have said, this was the one you were expecting the least.

You frown, moving back to look at his face. “What is it?”

A clear hesitation this time. “William.”

“Why are you going by Steve?”

He shakes his head. “It’s too complicated to get into. Suffice to say I have good reason to use an alias. I’m trusting you not to tell anyone else.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

“So now you know one of my best kept secrets.”

“Are there many more?”

“Yes, a fair few. But that’s not for discussing tonight, if at all.” His firm tone brooks no argument.

You don’t know how to feel about this. Does it really matter so much if his name isn’t Steve? Plenty of people went by other names. Is it really so strange?

Who are you falling in love with?

“William.” You try the name out and feel a shudder wrack his body, the limbs trembling against you. Oh, he liked that.

“Say it again.”

“William.” The name comes easier this time. You’ll get used to it, surely. You just have to be careful not to say it in front of anyone else.

“Again.” His hands reach for the front of your shirt, pulling down impatiently. You hear the buttons scatter, tiny bits of plastic striking laminate.

“William.” He takes one of your breasts in his mouth, teeth clamping on the nipple and tugging on the flesh. His hands are now braced under your thighs and he stands, holding you, your legs automatically wrapping around him. The strength in this man is incredible. There’s no way a desk job would make him this fit. Maybe he exercises regularly.

The air is pushed out of your lungs when he shoves you up against the wall in the hallway, holding you there, his mouth wild against yours. All of the tenderness and gentleness from earlier has vanished, replaced with this passionate aggression. You can’t decide which you like better.

“You want me to fuck you, honey?” His breath is ragged by your cheek. Your cunt is absolutely throbbing.

“Yes.” It’s not a want but a need at this point.

He carries you into the master bedroom and lays you across the bed. You watch him do that one handed maneuver that only men can do because their shirts are cut differently, grabbing a handful of material from between his shoulder blades and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.

The scars cover his torso, too. So, so many of them, tattooed across every surface.

You admire the way the muscles beneath the skin move as he unfastens the button on his jeans. He might be middle aged but he’s lean, toned without being overly muscular, just some softness around the abdomen that you find insanely attractive. God, you wish you’d seen him naked sooner than this.

He drags the zipper down, hooks thumbs in the denim waistband and lets them drop naturally, already reaching for the boxer briefs that need more than gravity to ease down. More scars wallpaper his hips and thighs—what kind of accident had he been in?—and then he joins you on the bed, climbing over you. You feel the weight of his hand depressing the coils of the mattress near your head, a knee by your hip doing the same.

His face looms over yours, breath gusting over you in soft pants. “You remember when you came to see me at the office that day?”

You could hardly forget. You’d made a complete ass of yourself. Your cheeks flush and you nod.

“Remember how I told you I wasn’t going to be so lenient with you the next time?”

“Yes. But you always have been.”

“Not tonight. You understand, sweetheart?” He drags a thumb against your bottom lip, such a soft contrast to the violence he’s promising you.

“I’ll do anything you want.”

“Oh honey, I know you will.”

His eyes go black.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #william afton #steve raglan #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie

107 notes · View notes

tsukikumai · 9 months

Text

Jealous much? Part 2

Shu Yamino x reader (female bodied)

NSFW! !minors dni! Established relationship!

A.N: As promised, here it is. (I did not expect to get that many notes in a week jeeez) This is my first time writing full on smut, if it’s bad… my apologies.

“h-haah… wait SHu!”

It’s cold.

His tongue on your heat while his fingers slid repeatedly into you. You don’t know if it was sorcery or not but- god he was playing tricks on you. His tongue teased you, changing temperatures to stimulate your skin. His fingers twirled deep inside you, almost stirring up your insides.

“Shhhh…”

You laid there, legs swooped over his broad shoulders, forcing them open. His face buried deep in between your legs, you could still see his dark purple eyes staring at you, an amused look on his face as he observed your reactions.

You aren’t too sure how you got here. One moment you were kissing him, then you took off his hoodie, and suddenly you were dripping wet at his expense.

He chuckled lightly, detaching his now very heated tongue.

“So pretty… only for me…” He muttered under his breath, shoving another finger into you.

“A-ah! Shuu…. P-please….” You begged, you couldn’t have him teasing you for this long. You wouldn’t be begging if he wasn’t being so painstakingly slow.

He knows what he’s doing to you, his movements are so precise yet so slow that you’re barely hanging on.

You swear it’s like someone put him in 0.75 speed. Your patience is running low, and it doesn’t help that one of his hand is gripping onto your waist so tight, you can’t even grind against his tongue.

“Please what, Babe?” He said, his voice vibrated against you, making you shiver.

“P-please…. Let me….”

He chuckled, deciding he wasn’t going to push it any further. He extended his tongue once again and buried himself deep within you.

Cold.

He slurped up your juices while his hand gripped at your thigh. His tongue smoothly glided over your clit, sending electrical signals up your spin, making you jolt.

He stopped indulging himself, licking his lips, moisture covering his mouth. Shu crawled onto the bed, picking you up in the meantime and setting you down next to him. “Come here.” He said, a smug look on his face. Shu took off his bottoms, his cock sprung up, released from the fabric that trapped it. He lightly patted his lap, inviting you over.

“It’s right here, you wanted this right- hAh-Y/n!”

A growling moan slips out of Shu’s mouth as you immediately aligned yourself and shoved in his length as far as you could go. You feel his cock twitching inside you, the pulse running through. His head shot backwards, his hands gripped at your waist and your plump butt, his nails digging in due to the sudden change in position. You see Shu’s face come back with a struggling smile, his ears beat red. His piercing eyes see through you as you start to move up and down with his pulsing cock inside of you. Your hands pressed down on his toned chest, supporting yourself.

“S-so eager… ngh- aren’t we?”

You rode on top of him at your own speed this time, without that sly sorcerer controlling you. You whimpered as the you felt him closing the distance, biting your collar bone.

“Look.” Shu grabbed the bottom side of your jaw and turned your head to the left. The mirror beside you reflected a perfect image, with you still bouncing on top of him, as you see his hands all over your body.

“You won’t do this with anyone e-else, right? You’re mine, only… mine.”

As he said this, he grabs your waist hard with both hands and thrusts himself into your walls instantly, with an alarmingly fast pace. He prevents you from escaping or falling as he rams his dick into you. Moans escape both your mouths, akin to a duet of lust. You could see Shu biting his lips, his eyes fixated on your chest, or your eyes, or- everything. He basked in your presence, the noises you made and the look you gave him, it was only him who could make you feel this way.

You could somehow only feel him getting deeper, his tip touching places even you were unfamiliar with. The sound of skin slapping and your mewls filled the room. Although Shu didn’t make noise too often, every time he did, it only turned you on even more. Since your head was tilting back from the pleasure of his length hitting deep inside you, his slender right hand grabs your face and makes you look straight into his amethyst eyes, his pretty eyelashes shined in the dim lighting. Although he didn’t say anything, you could tell he was telling you to look at him and only him. He took a hold of your jaw with his four fingers and jammed his thumb into your mouth, pressing on your tongue.

“Mm! Swhuu?”

He only gave you a small smirk, watching your chest bounce while saliva slowly dripped onto his hand.

“I can’t…. Hold it any- more!” You struggle to speak, feeling a sense of pleasure rising within yourself. In fact, Shu felt a little embarrassed, he didn’t know why he was acting like this. He just knew he had to make you his once again.

As soon as he heard this Shu sped up, as if it was even possible. The sound of skin slapping became louder and his small sounds did so too. Your walls tightened, feeling Shu’s throbbing dick even more.

“Mgh… haah- you can do it, Y/n.”

Your voice filled the room as the motion slowly came to a halt. You lightly bite onto his thumb that was inside your mouth. You felt his fluids paint your walls white as you bend down, losing your balance.

You saw Shu lick his hand clean, white staining the corner of his mouth.

Shu smiled at you, still panting for air.

He leaned in, pressing your bodies together, planting a deep kiss onto your lips. His hand cupped your cheek, rubbing your teary eyes.

“Did you enjoy that, my Love?”

#luxiem imagines #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #x reader #fanfic #smut

243 notes · View notes

deadlynavigation · 1 month

Text

Pretty & Pink

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: request from @cecebabs !! school has been kicking my ass lately so just bear with me yall 🥲

Navigation

**gif is not meant to be a representation of what reader looks like**

Opposites attract—or at least, that’s what they said. Wednesday had never put any stock into the saying until he met you.

You were a bright little thing, full of happiness and hope and all the other disgusting emotions. But Wednesday endured, because at the end of the day, you held his heart in your manicured hand.

Every once in a while, though, he’ll question what he’s doing. Like tonight, for instance. It had been a long day. The errands that had been piling up over the week were finally accomplished a few hours ago, and it was exhausting. So exhausting that all he wanted to do was collapse in the nearest bed, no matter the owner or location. And since you didn’t want your partner to end up in some alleyway mattress, you dragged him over to your apartment, where he was currently camped out on your bed.

“You doing okay in there, sweetie?” You call to him from your bathroom, hands dripping with water as you rinse your cleanser off.

“Yes, my love. Are you done yet?” Wednesday calls back. He knows his question is in vain, though. Your skincare routine is a long ordeal, and you’ve only just started.

He hears your soft laughter float through the air. “I’ll be right out.” You respond, picking up a serum.

Wednesday decides he can’t wait, heading into the bathroom and settling behind where you stand. You greet him with a smile, picking up the next step of your routine to show to him.

“It’s a new moisturizer I got today,” You explain. “It’s supposed to be good for dry skin, and with all the nasty weather lately…”

Wednesday doesn’t hear the rest of your rant, focusing instead on those pretty eyes of yours. Oh, how he longs to drown in them. To sink into their depths, seeing the world from your hopeful view. Unpacking all your thoughts, understanding and empathizing.

Listen to him. He’s practically a puddle of mush. What have you done to him?

“...Wednesday, baby?” You tilt your head as Wednesday snaps back into reality. “Were you even listening?”

He takes one more second to stare at you before sheepishly shaking his head. “Deepest apologies, cara mia. There are simply too many pretty parts to you, I cannot focus on every one of them at once.”

You giggle, a blush tinting your cheeks. “Maybe I should turn away, then. Stop distracting you with my wiles.”

Wednesday smirks. “Turning away from me would entice me even more, Y/n. You really want to play that game?”

“Oh my god. Ok, I’m not facing you anymore. You’ve lost that privilege.” Your cheeks are on fire now, and if you maintain eye contact any longer, you’re worried you might burst into flames. True to your word, you pivot to face the mirror. Then, using your arms, you hop up onto the counter, climbing into the sink for an optimal view.

Wednesday nearly has a heart attack as you jump. His hands fall into place, ready to catch you or save your head from a nasty bang should your acrobatics go wrong, but once you’re in place, he sighs loudly.

“Must you do that, my love?” His seriousness is ruined by a smile creeping onto his face.

“Sorry, can’t hear you. This moisturizer requires my full attention.” It’s hard tamping down your own smile, but the teasing seems to be worth it as Wednesday’s stare darkens.

“The moisturizer gets your attention, hm? That’s a dangerous game, cara mia.”

You don’t respond, instead dipping your finger into the container and dotting it on your cheeks.

“Come down from that sink so we can see who really has your attention right now.” Wednesday taunts you. After a couple seconds, you give in, closing up the product and carefully setting it down before jumping back down onto the floor. Within seconds, Wednesday takes a step and sits on the edge of the bathtub, grabbing your hands and gently tugging you along at the same time. Before you know it, you’re sat on his lap, a smirk on his face and a shocked look on yours.

“Attention still on skincare, love?” Wednesday teases.

You give up on the facade. “No,” You breathe, leaning in. “But what if I share my attention with it?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows furrow as you get up, reaching into the bottom drawer of the counter and coming back to him with a small package. You sit back down, ripping it open and tossing the top in the trash.

“Want a face mask?” You ask.

“Is that one of those grotesque concoctions that spreads all over your face? The one that looks like a death mask?” Wednesday questions, but you’re already reaching into the package.

“Exactly, baby. Want one?”

“...Sure.” What’s the worst that could happen?

Twenty minutes later, and Wednesday is set up on your bed with no intention of moving. A green substance covers the majority of his face, making him question why he doesn’t let you do this more often. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks, settled in amongst your many pink throw pillows and cherry blossom sheets. You’re settled in too, resting your head on his chest while trying to sync your breaths with the steady thumps of his heart. Your manicured fingers etch random shapes into his skin, tracing the hard lines of muscle and adding a heart or two every so often.

Eventually, though, the both of you become restless.

‘Wanna start a movie?” Wednesday asks, looking down at your comfy self with adoration.

You look up, meeting his eyes with the same love. “Can I choose?”

“Of course, Y/n. Anything for you.”

An hour later, and Wednesday is ready to commit homicide. Of all the movies you could have picked, you went with Mean Girls. Your defense? “It’s the feminist movement at its finest, Wednesday.”

“It’s… very pink.”

“Yeah, that’s the best part! All the decorations and outfits are amazing. They were actually part of what inspired this room’s decor.”

Wednesday looks around at the brightly colored walls, the pastel curtains, the cute pillows, and even the pink pens scattered across your desk. “I never would’ve guessed, my love.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re just jealous.”

Wednesday chuckles. “Yes, very.” He agrees sarcastically. You don’t dignify him with a response, instead choosing to lay back down on his chest and go back to watching the movie. You don’t get to stay there for very long, though, because a minute later, the timer on your phone goes off.

“Mkay. Time to take this off, babe.” You poke his face mask. Wednesday rises without complaint, heading to the bathroom while you grab some water and a cloth. Internally, though, he’s begging you not to. It feels so nice, and having you apply it was one of the best feelings in the world.

As you start working through the layers of the mask with water and a gentle hand, though, Wednesday revises his thoughts—never mind the application. This was the best feeling in the world.

As you work, Wednesday leans into your hands. He would have fallen asleep if it weren’t for your whispered promises of comfy beds and pillows and cuddles.

*****

The next morning, Wednesday gets up much earlier than usual. The sun is just barely up, peeking through your pastel curtains and coating the bed in a buttery yellow. You’re burrowed into his arms, tucked safely into his chest with the messy blankets surrounding you. He takes a minute to absorb your cuteness, smiling down at you as he slowly wakes up.

“Good morning, Y/n.” He whispers, not yet wanting to wake you. You’ve reminded him time and time again that the blinking digits on the clock right now are not digits you ever want to be awake to see, and he’s taken that to heart. But he still has to kill time until you wake–maybe a run? He could drop by the gym just down the street that he really likes. Or maybe a chore? The dishwasher still needs to be unloaded.

But those all sound like too much work for this early in the day, so Wednesday settles on just getting you a coffee. A nice five-minute walk and your drowsy smile to greet him when he gets back. Perfect.

Within minutes, Wednesday is up and out. He strolls down the street, taking his time to enjoy the soft sunlight. That’s new, he suddenly realizes–and probably your doing, as well. You’re a fan of tilting your face to the sun, soaking in the warmth, and claiming the rays cheer you up. Maybe you’ve passed that onto him.

A couple more minutes tick by, and Wednesday reaches your regular coffee shop. He enters the place with a little jingle as the door opens, and is immediately greeted with the scent of dark coffee and light chatter.

“What can I get for you this morning, sir?” A too-happy employee asks him as he walks up to the counter.

Damn, what was that drink you really liked? Something with pink in it, he’s sure of it.

“Just two medium coffees, one black and one with that pink flavor, please.” Manners with normies–that’s another thing you’ve unknowingly reinforced with him.

“Our pink velvet flavoring?” That sounds right.

“Yes, that’s it. Thanks.” Wednesday pulls out his card, handing it to the guy.

“Awesome. Name?”

“Addams.”

“We’ll have those coffees right out for you, sir.”

“Brilliant.” With that, Wednesday finds an isolated corner to haunt until his name is called, quickly grabbing the coffees and exiting the building. It’s an even quicker walk back with the warm drinks providing some heat on this chilly morning.

It’s a bit of a struggle, but Wednesday manages to buzz into the building, climb the stairs to your apartment, and work the keys until your door clicks open, all with his hands full. He’s greeted with the sight of you half-asleep on the couch, the news playing softly in the background.

“What are you doing up, love?” He questions, setting the coffees down on the coffee table and kneeling on the floor.

“Wanted to see you,” you mumble, grabbing for his hand and interlocking it with yours. “Was cold in the bed without you.”

Wednesday practically melts. How can one girl be so sweet and caring? So happy?

“I’m sorry, my love. But look, I got you that coffee you like to make up for it.” He gestures to the beverages with his free hand before resting it on your head. He goes about stroking your hair, lulling you back into a dreamlike state.

“Don’t do that, I’ll fall back asleep,” you bat at his hand, trying to get it out of your hair. You were up to see him, not to fall asleep on him.

“And I will still be here when you wake up, cara mia. Go back to sleep. You’re safe here. I love you.”

#wednesday addams #male!wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x reader #male wednesday addams x reader #male!wednesday addams #the addams family #male!wednesday #the addams family x you #requests open #requests

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linksthoughtbrambles · 2 months

Text

Serenne

Part 16 of Adventure Log+ (sequel to Link's Thought Brambles - much better to read in order, both also on ao3). Warning for strong language and violence. Trigger warning for intense fire. Disclaimer: The content of this chapter is fiction only, and is not intended to contain advice or instructions for surviving hazardous conditions involving fire.

Master-

Yes, yes-

“Off, off, off, off-”

“I got it, I got it-“ Fi?

I look upon your plan with trepidation.

"Hehehe" What else is new?

"What's funny?!"

"Sorry, Beraya, it's the sword." The last thing I need is Beraya thinking I find her shoulders funny, and yeah, Fi, I know-

The moisture is a double-edged sword.

"Kh- shh, Tass."

Zelda already made us swear not to run into the flames. It'll give us some extra time in the heat, act like sweat, and some of it will be gone from the wind before we even get there.

Unless something surprises you, master. Fire is unpredictable, and the heat capacity of water can be deceptive.

Look, Zelda thinks it's better this way. I'm going with it.

If steam becomes trapped against your skin-

It'll scald. YEAH. I know. There!

“Bloody mail- I needed a refit anyway.”

“You got it, Beraya—soon as we’re back.” Faster, Link, faster for $*#@’s sake!

“Shh, sh sh sh- Tass! Link- perhaps we- kh- oughtn’t ride any further.”

“It’s up to you-“ thereFINALLY- “arms through-“

“Kh.”

“-arms through.“

“Yes sir, I have the rest, I have it!”

“The horses should come back here when we dismount.” I hope.

“They may bolt with us still riding.”

Hope not hope not “They might.”

“NEXT BUCKET!”

“Huiru, Reida.” They better- good they’re listening not that I’d expect them to ride into fire without at least something, something SOMETHING to help, dear Hylia, and at least they already have face cloths, just have to douse them-

“P- princess! We- shouldn’t use these-“

-but it won’t last long-

“Sir Margil, I appreciate the sentiment-“

-not in all that heat.

“-but there are more important things than Link and I’s spare clothing.”

“It feels- like sacrilege.”

“Indeed not. Hylia would much prefer her symbol to keep you safe than for you to perish in the smoke. Think of it...“

To the well, Link, help Cohl, water water water “I got it-“

“...Think of it as a ward protecting you.”

“…Yes, Princess.”

“I got that, Margil.”

“Thanks, Aree.”

“I can’t believe I’m wearing something you sewed with your own hands, Princess.”

“I admit kh- when I fashioned Link’s tunics, I had no expectation of their being used as facemasks. Ah- but please, don’t fret, Sir Liff khm-khm.”

Zelda’s susceptible. She coughed a lot at Miss Morsels’ too. Not that I think that stench was as nasty as smoke. “Princess- I again recommend-“

“That I remain with Sirs Bennent and Lahs, and I again decline, Link.”

Amazing she can smile at me in all this, I don’t think I have it in me. “I figured.” Nope- smile failure. “I had to ask. Beraya, your turn!”

“Yes, sir.”

Sitting, good, she’s taller than me.

“Ah!”

“More, Cohl.”

“Coming, Sir Link!” “I’m done, I can help.”

“Thanks, Daile.”

“Get the horses, too.”

“D- damn. Yeah.”

It feels like hours but it’s been minutes, only minutes, how many people are dying while we do this?

Lucky there’s no malice here, unlucky no surface water, only a deep well but the people ran and that’s good, good, stalls empty, no horses, no walking corpses, no corpses at all, no-

“Link?”

“All good.” Stop brooding, Link, you’re not helping anyone, more water- “You’re next, Princess.”

“Khh.”

“I’m done!”

Varniro “Good, help with the horses.”

“Yes sir!”

Here I go dunking my last tunic in water it’s for her for her I don’t know why I feel this matters but I do. “Okay, Z- hold this- get ready.”

"Not the socks."

"Heh. No, not the socks." I don't want to know what boiling water feels like in my boots, either.

Face crinkled, I always like that face on her. “Look up- yeah.” Hair wet, get every fricking inch of her clothing, careful, just barely wet the bandage outside only outside only. Wet bandages bad news…

“You good, Cohl?”

“I got some slopped on me pulling it up so fast. Top’s not there yet.”

“I got you.”

Liff and Cohl look out for each other. Good.

“I believe that’s sufficient, Link.”

“I want you soaked.” …Oh s$&%, Link.

Keep pouring the water, keep pouring it, clearly no one gives a crap or possibly even noticed your ridiculous slip.

…Except Zelda. A single-eyebrow raise. She’ll tease me later. I hope. Later. Hope for that.

“I’m good!”

“Me too, Sir.”

“Alright, almost there- get the horses as best you can. Manes and tails especially, but we won’t take them all the way in. They’ll run after that. Lahs- Bennent- I’m serious. You see something headed your way that’s not us, you retreat immediately and at full speed. Make for the logging village if you can- get word to the castle faster. If something cuts you off, head to the Royal Lab. Got it?

“Got it, sir.” “Yes, sir.”

Link. Look them in the eye. “If not…“

“We’ll bring his body back, sir.”

“…Yes. Thanks. Oereb’s family will thank you, too.”

Zelda’s face. Wish I could hold her now.

Oh. My turn. Just nod, let Margil get you.

“Kh-kh.”

Feels good. Not clean exactly. But maybe a little less disgusting than I was.

“Your bandage, Sir.”

“Yeah.” Hand over it should be good enough. Pat some water… just on the outside.

“Alright…”

Less good now with the water in my pants. That’s going to chafe. Priorities priorities priorities.

Good to have my eyes closed. Just for… a minute.

“Eh- hey, Reida, could you help me with this?”

“Ah- ah. Yes, alright.”

…Snobbish.

“… Uh. Thanks.”

That’s how they seem to me, but maybe I’m biased, they answer to other Sheikah, not to me, Zelda, too, ideally, but they seem not to take her orders seriously in combat like they think they know better and maybe they’re right but I don’t think so, I think they f$(#ed up with those riders, Zelda, Zelda was right, they should’ve broken off, let her fire.

Maybe I’ll talk to herOH more pants water- later. About them. See if she agrees. “Think I’m good. Thanks, Margil.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

Pretty sure Zuho would’ve jumped to help us prep, not stood around being watchful with his nose up in the air, he’s not like them. She’s surrounded by us, this is not the time to stand still, this is the time for speed, speed, oh. Facecloth. “Thanks again.”

And the buckets have stopped. “Ready?”

“Yes Sir!” “Yes.” “Ready.” “Ready, Sir!”

Nods, nods. “Princess?”

“…Mount. We ride-“

Horse horse

“-as close as the horses will allow.”

Good boy- sorry.

“We go the rest of the way on foot- at a run.”

About your rider.

“We enter Serenne if at all possible.”

So, so sorry.

“We slay any monsters.”

I wonder... if you understand.

“If our kh- enemy is the fire itself, we shall help them fight it.”

It hasn’t hit me yet.

“If the blaze is too fierce, we shall evacuate all we can instead.”

But when it does-

“We remain together unless Link or I order otherwise-"

-it’ll be like always.

“-and we avoid extreme heat, smoke, and flame. Onward!”

I’ll have another hole inside. “Everyone ride astride each other. Hup, boy!”

“Go, Tass!” “Hyah!” “Hyup-“ “Hhh.”

A hole where the first person died under my command.

Zelda. Beside me.

I don’t want her back exposed even to our own soldiers.

And there’s a shudder. Our own soldiers. Vayden and Carok guy.

I want to know someone really Goddess-damned well before I let them have a clear shot at Zelda’s back. Or mine, for that matter, but at least if it’s me I’ll react fast. Not that she isn’t fast…

But I’ve never seen her do the Thing. Better to assume she can’t.

-----

My Goddess. The south's all but an inferno, what happened here?

“So much!”

I’ve never, never heard Beraya like that before-

“TASS!”

NONONO

“Easy!”

OFFLinkoff

“Easy, easy, good boy-“

gethisreins!

“Good, good Tass!”

“Hey hey hey hey shh- Tass-“ got him

“Kh- khh-“

got him “shh- shhhhh” soothe him Link “shh-“ just enough give her a few seconds “shh, shh, easy- easy-“ he is so done, rolling eyes- “dismount, everyone- now- yes- gooood boy, good, easy-“ she’s off let go lethimgo-

Good they’re all off “On FOOT! We GO!”

She’s alright she’s so fast like me running beside me and Dear Goddess it's warm even here! In there the plate mail would’ve baked half of us alive and even the water won’t last us long-

“Khh.”

-amazing the horses got us so close to the treeline they’re not lit here not yet outer edge dark silhouettes monsters? Trees bushes rocks maybe or crouching things could be could be do I see horns

“AAAAAAAH!”

“Link!”

“Yes!” Screaming where where nothing nothing nothing nothing

“SPEED!”

“Yes, Princess!” “Ahhh!” “Gh.” “Mkh.” “Kh- kh kh- khh“

Coughing more, please, please don’t let her drop-

“AAAH! AAAAHHHH!” “KHHHHGH.”

“THAT WAY!”

Does she see them does she I SEE “THERE!” MoblinmoblinmoblinnoFASTERLINK NO YEHHHHHS ZELDA GO DOWN GO DOWN

“IT YET LIVES!”

It does but an arrow through its eye gave that kid seconds he needed and now Terial, Aree, great shots, it must be a red, it’s on its knees already and LIFF, yes, he’s fast too and- there goes its throat.

“You hurt?!”

Kid’s shocked he’s shocked answer Liff come on

“I- I- I h- ad to come back!”

Crying.

“We are here to kh- help- what happened?”

Zelda- he may not be able to

“Here- I got you.“

Kid’s filthy and shaking but seems sturdy enough now Liff pulled him up.

“They- they told us to run, but I had to come back! Something’s wrong- at the next farm, too, everyone’s just waiting in the wheat-“

Everyone.

“-and there’s not enough water and we could see the fire got worse!”

The other kids. “How did this start?”

“Monsters. They just- came. Out of nowhere-“

“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”

…What was that?

“Oh, F$*%.”

“Daile?”

“Sir- Princess- that sounds like a lynel.”

“Your dad-“

“Yes, sir.”

“Princess?”

“We go. In.”

And fast, my Goddess-

“Kid, go back. The others have horses?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Don’t lose those.”

Liff’s sharper

“The horses want to bolt,”

than I gave him credit for.

“you’re better off on them than not, alright?”

Nod, Link, he has spooked-face

“Y- yeah.”

like he thinks he might’ve overstepped.

“Just- go and don’t come back here- ah-“

I really, really don't mind, people can't be constantly asking me about everything.

“-unless someone you trust fetches you. And-“

Unless he tells the kid to do something stupid.

“-if you see anything off, just run. Uh…”

And Liff’s looking at me.

“Khhh.”

Because which way? Which way is safe? “…Head south by southeast so you’d just barely scrape the farm at the foot of Salari hill in that direction. Then… make for the royal lab.” They can defend themselves better than the logging village, so… safer… maybe.

“O- okay.”

Didn’t have to tell him twice. He’s scared to s#$&… wait, shuffling chuchu LEAP Linkwhathe- “Rkh!”

“Ah!” “Move, kid!” “Move!” “Gkh!”

GONNA POP BACKBACKBACK LINK, BACK OFF

“Eh-“ “Ff-“ “Blasted-“ “Move, move!” “Fire-”

Fire chuchus here?! “In- in, everyone, the town! Go, kid!”

Watch him go watch him go, DAMN the wood’s dry pine needles like flammable fricking carpet, back up "Back up, back up!" watch the kid they’ll pull ahead but I’ll catch up almost almost almost trees he’s out all you can do Link you can’t escort him all the way back and if there’s anyone left alive in the town they’re in just as much danger and more

“There!”

Her eyes so good there it is a boko-

“QUEHEKYUEEE!”

Varniro Genenko careful bad shield arm

“GRK!” “QYEEHEEEE! K-“

GOOD.

Red. DownMORE

“KGGGH.” “KHG.”

They always sound so disgustingly happy

“Gh- ah!”

Happy to maim- Margil

“Ghg!”

Good skewered blue not dead-

“Akk!”

-now it is.

Happy to kill, too.

Not like Margil.

His face is not happy right now. Bokos smile when they kill.

“They are kh- here awaiting those who flee.”

“…Yeah.” I hope there are people left to run.

There’s more I see them waiting on the road at the edge of the houses some behind moblins those are moblins three red blue blue, at least two bokoblins, horns, little horns sticking up show them-

Yes. Shh- there they are. One two three- four five. Eyes out. Look. All of you scan. Zelda?

They- are- looking- inward. We quiet, we surprise them. Yes. Good.

Spread out.

No- Zelda. Stay with me.

Liff and Cohl again. Good. Huiru creeping crouched, Terial with Margil- Aree with Beraya, Daile with Genenko, Varniro with Reida, a pair, okay. Huiru’s alone but he clearly has a method.

Six pairs. Five monsters. So far.

We’ve got THAT one.

Sh sh sh… she knows. She knows. Quiet. The fire’s loud, but- doesn’t mean it couldn’t hear us at all, a snapping branch, a cough-

…please don’t cough.

Hot. Even here. Hot. Smoke. Careful. Pay attention to your skin, Link-

I will endeavor to notify you of any sudden changes in your skin, master, but I have no method by which to measure your surroundings.

Thank you.

Her fists just balled.

She wants to cough.

Hurry, hurry, the flames, hiding the footsteps, careful but quick careful but quick-

Closercloser right in the back the spine wait for it, for the others.

Zelda- yes. Turn. Face out. Watch my back. I watch yours.

They’re- almost- nowTHROUGH

“RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHH!”

“RRGHT!” “QUEKEHHH!” “QUORHHIEWHE!” “KGHR?”

Almost all Daile Beraya Liff got theirs where’s Huiru

“KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!”

Varniro’s he didn’t surprise it but they’ve got it

“QHWEHHH!”

MORE “MORE!” Main road, there! She’ll follow you Link, go take it out, it's hot but you're okay-

Fighting I hear it on the edges monsters at the next two roads too they have it trust them THIS one- “HhhaaHH!”

“QHEEHKHH!” “Kh-“

“Kh- khmkhm-“

StaybackZelda I’vegotit “Grk- hh!” the armpit slice it can’t raise its shield SLICE- THRUST

Down.

“Kh- hh. The smoke.”

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry- Zelda- it’s your dec-“

“We keep going.”

I thought so but heat smoke “ON RIGHT!”

Sheturned heardboots it’s breathinghard but didn’tgrowl feet loud anyway SLIDE underitsguardLinkSHINSyes

“GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!”

Yeahthathurtdidn’tit Zelda YESOH ROLLLINK

Damn she nailed that but it almost fell on me it’s prone proneTHRUST- THRUST

Dead? D-NO THRUST-twist-

“Kh-kh-kh.”

Stay still.

Dead- wh?

Margil and Terial

“Another moblin, down!”

Good Terial’s hand on his mask though he feels it the smoke

Goddess if we hadn’t soaked ourselves I’d’ve been soaked by sweat instead and dehydrating fast. How long til it steams off?

Link? You see steaming with your eyes and you grab Zelda and make everyone back the hell off.

Realistically, she'd probably notice it before me.

There are the others. Around the sides of the houses. Here! Yeah, here- let’s not split up. Don’t see Huiru yet… Cohl- Liff. They’re looking, too.

…They don’t see him.

Yeah Cohl, I don’t know either. Just shake your head, Link. Zelda?

“All- kh- together.”

Alright, she’s pointing that way she’s right she’s right less fire we can’t stay in this long south is an inferno north we can at least last a while- Huiru, he should’ve come out over here somewhere anyway, hurry, hurry, but look look look look lots of movement flickering shadows things flapping in the wind from the fire no other people yet not yet- easing, easing it’s not as bad over here, the fire worst in southwest maybe glow and smoke but it’s quieter this way too careful something could hear

“Kh… KH.”

Zelda, is your cloth still wet?

“Link?”

Quietly “Cloth- wet?”

Nodding, good, good- mine is so hers should be too just checking just checking can’t kill smoke with a sword can’t protect her.

Liff and Cohl fell in naturally checking around each house opposite directions it helps we can move faster.

Less and less and less, still hot but cooler here-

Those houses- not flaming-

Zelda?

That’s a yes, we check, Liff and Cohl check that house, Reida and Varniro, check that one everyone else watch watch watch eyes all directions- watch the fire too, embers, it won’t be long they’ll catch

“Khh. Kh.”

It would be insane for someone to hide in a closet or something with fire in the town it shouldn’t be that, either they’re hiding somewhere they can see out or they’re unconscious or dead or the house is just empty

No one moving all up and down road, far as I can see Zelda shaking her head, too-

Bodies? Bodies no bodies they all run?

And-

Head-shakes. Nothing in that house.

Varniro…?

“Kh.”

No. Not that one either.

“Gg- khhh khhhh.”

And Terial’s coughing too and there’s still no Huiru here, two roads over.

Zelda?

I know that jaw- clench. Like right before she gets in the pool at the Cathedral.

“We go.”

Alright. Just point, Link, the less talking the better, that way everyone, west.

Where the fire’s louder maybe talking fine, here just not, lets us breathe through our noses anyway eyes peeled everyone going going going

Behind us?

Nothing.

Beraya- Liff- keep looking back. Okay?

Okay.

flAMES

“Ah!” “FF-“ “S$&#-“ “Kh-“

WOAH that was some pop- Reida looks a little singed but okay, flames more, hotter, some of these houses completely ablaze lucky lucky the paths aren’t too narrow never seen Serenne before wouldn’t’ve known hotter inward we circle circle around where's-

“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”

Lynel

Here we all are, hunted deer watching, listening.

It can’t be that close hardly any louder but maybe wrong, never seen a lynel never heard one either if that’s what it is, Daile’s the only one.

Still… listening.

Roaring. Of fire.

I'm dryer already.

More dark houses. Zelda?

That’s a yes and opinion established we check the survivable houses- pairs- Liff, Cohl- Varniro, Reida- Daile, Genenko- Margil, Beraya.

“Sir?”

“Quick, Margil, we’re good- go.”

Can’t say I blame him, I’ve been having them flank Zelda the whole-

“Khh. Kh.”

-time, but speed! Don’t think I should leave the archers out here alone. We stay. We watch. Should I call out? If someone’s hiding they might just come out and if monsters do at least we’re not walking into an ambush, they’d come to usOH no. Oh, Link. Could the lynel hear me if I yell? The fire might drown me out if it’s among it but I just don’t know and we could sure hear it roar- “No shouting?”

“Agreed.”

“Lynel?”

“Yes.”

I concur, master.

You’ve been quiet.

I am endeavoring not to distract you, master.

I… can see why.

I will take this opportunity to notify you your blood oxygenation levels are still within an acceptable range at 99%.

Uh. Good! I bet that would mean more to Zelda, but I can guess…

100% is desirable and indicates excellent breathing. Below 90% is dangerous.

What about Zelda?

I can measure no one’s but yours, master.

Right- right. Let me know if it changes, okay?

I plan to, master.

I bet hers are lower than that.

It is likely everyone’s are lower than yours, master, considering your pristine physical condition. I speculate your associate Terial is suffering most. I recommend removing both him and the Princess from this environment as soon as possible.

Yeah. Me too.

“Kh- kh. Khh.”

A few more houses.

“KHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH.”

…I sure couldn’t tell where that came from.

Could be around the corner.

That’s comforting.

“Khhh kh.”

Smoke so thick southward. Even looking down a clear path, hard to see. It… wasn’t that much louder, though.

“Ahm. Ahkhm.”

“Terial, you good?”

“Khhh- akm. Yeah, it- doesn’t agree with me.”

Me either, but it’s getting to him already.

“Kh- kh.”

At least Zelda’s doesn’t seem to be getting worse quick like his.

I think they’re almost done.

A lynel shows up, you don’t let Zelda anywhere near it, Link. You make her run.

Not that I could MAKE her do anything.

But.

“Ahm. Ahehehm.”

Wow. Am I just- falling into old habits or something? She’s right here. “Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Lynel, you leave.”

A long look. Something odd there, something I don’t like. Her eyebrow crease. Can’t see her mouth or nose, but- worried?

“I- understand.”

Wow. Well, good- and Margil and Beraya, also good.

Except also not good-

“Kh.”

-because they’re shaking their heads. “Bodies?”

Oh. No bodies either, so… still good.

Beraya. Squeeze her shoulder, Link.

The others – also coming. Except- no, no, there’s Varniro, too.

Closer. Closer. Okay. “If a lynel surprises us, the Princess is to retreat. Margil and Beraya, you’ll escort her.”

Nods all around.

I’m really amazed she just agreed to it, but-

“Khm. Kh- khm.”

-I’ll take it.

Let’s move. “Cohl- yeah, watch on that edge, Reida on yours.” Corners, corners. “We’ll move a few streets up and start again on the houses. Any of you find bodies?”

“No, sir.” “No.” “No.”

“Two. On- the street that way.”

Don’t let your face fall with your heart, Link. Did you think everyone would escape this hell alive? “…We do this as fast as we can- try to find anyone who’s left.”

“And- kh-kh- discover… where those missing have gone.”

Chuchu- Genenko’s got it, he’s got it aaaand one and two- there it goes already back up back up while it pops-

Chuchus do just spring from the ground. Like the… Dead Hands. Is that what happened here? They just sprang up, lit things? OH- “Back!”

Backupbackupbackup thereyougo manhandlingZelda sorry

HOT- "fffff!"

“Akhhhhh- khhhh ghghm.”

Hot…

Damn. Maybe. Fricking chuchu jelly explodes. Probably wouldn’t see it lying around.

Check behind- clear.

“Khh.”

They’re not too hard to kill but you have to know to run when they start puffing up. A good pop or two with a pitchfork and a sprint the other way would do it but of course you’ve set the nearest house on fire.

“Kh- khh.”

Maybe that’s why so few bodies.

It’s inconsistent.

“Ahhghm- dammit.”

Some houses not lit.

Yet.

Could be why. No chuchu pop-ups there.

But fire ones, here? They’re supposed to live in hot places. Eldin. Never thought to ask father. “Hey dad, do fire chuchus REALLY stick only to the slopes of Death Mountain?”

Has he even been to Death Mountain?

“Ah-hm.”

He must’ve- Oh? Waving waving Cohl?

Stop, everyone.

“Khhh khh.”

Okay- Zelda, with me- we’ll look.

Wow. Wow. Yeah, good eye, back-slap for you come on- come on everyone here- the well.

Buckets. Lots of them. Wet. Recently in use, and no bodies. Right? Am I crazy to be happy about this? Zelda?

No, no I’m not crazy because she looks at least a little relieved. Someone was fighting the fire and not that long ago. Lots of someones. That’s- yeah. Cooler here. Less flame.

Slightly less grim faces.

We go- further-careful check each way check, is that a bokoblin tooth? Teeth? A horn? They did fight back and yes that’s another bucket rolling around- another one there… on fire, now…

Back toward the east- anything?

Eyes every way, everyone.

I think I do see a few more monster parts. No people, though.

Alright everyone- yeah- spread on the street again we don’t quite fit I don’t like it Margil, Beraya? Yes, thank you. Princess’ back. This section seems pretty quiet, pretty cleared out, but still…

“Kh- khm. Kh.”

Steam. They doused things. Pump- there. It really can’t’ve been that long ago, can it? Not if we still see it like that.

“Wait.“

“Princess?”

“The pump. We refresh our facecloths while checking the area- quickly!"

“On it!”

Woah “Wait, the handle- hold your hand near it first, Genenko.” He was totally just going to grab it-

“It’s not hot, I’ll try it.”

Oh good.

“Bucket!”

“Thanks, Varniro.”

“Find your pairs.”

“Yes-“ “Yes, Princess-“

Finger to your lips, Link, they’re talking louder… they got the message. Quiet checking of those houses and alleys- oh no. Beraya.

Her face, Link.

Her family’s house- would’ve been southeast. Where the fire was worse.

Zelda?

Beraya.

…Yeah.

She already realized.

Can’t just ignore that, say something, just- quietly- “Beraya?”

Shaking her head. “We couldn’t have.”

“They might’ve got out.”

A strange, small smile.

She thinks they’re probably dead.

And Terial just dunked his whole face in that bucket. Good. He seems to need it more than the rest of- ”SH”$&%! ZELDA CORRALHERCORRALHERSHIELDSHIELD WHERE

Aree! Her arrow through its neck- Terial- Zelda wants to step out and shoot but no, no, that almost hit me and it could hit her, too- damn that thing was quiet. They usually give themselves away with the squealing.

Dead.

“Where the hell did it-”

“The house.”

“KKRRGGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHRRRR.”

I saw her breath catch.

Yes.

Closer, it’s closer, I know. Closer, eyes eyes out Daile?

Daile miming crouch crouch everyone down down LIFF, yes, YOU, DOWN! Zelda I want to just curl up in a ball around her but that won’t help anyone Daile’s looking at me eyes that way eyes that way he says-

There. Far.

But visible. Half turned away from us between houses and the hood on that further well, between smoke.

Okay. My Goddess. That has to be a lynel. Because it’s not a horse. But- it moves almost like one. Bright red mane, way too wide and thick not a horse not one bit.

Move- goodDaileagrees everyonemove STAYDOWN butmove move move move behind the next house holy f#$& don’t turn around now, don’t- face that way face that way face that way Margil Beraya flank Zelda thank you yes- oh. Okay. Daile. Staying crouched behind the well. Looking at me.

Yeah.

He’s right.

We have to take it out.

The mystery of the missing people doesn’t matter much if they can’t come back.

Zelda? I go.

“KKRRRRRGHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHRRRR.”

…It’s like the earth’s breath stops when it does that.

I want you completely out of its eyeline or even possible eyeline.

You, Margil, and Beraya… and Liff and Cohl.

Yup.

Shhh!

Glad I saw him about to talk, Holy Hylia this is not the moment to find out how good lynel hearing is.

S&$#. Genenko’s bad arm. He has to stay, too.

You can do this, Link. You can mime.

Genenko- you- Zelda, Margil, Beraya, Liff, and Cohl, you all look for the missing people.

The missing people.

The PEOPLE.

Bucket-people!

Ahhh now you get it.

Okay. Daile. You and me. On point. But- yeah. Agreed. We flank it.

Yeah. You that way. Me this way.

Okay, Link. Your father told you how to fight these. Just- plan. Archers stay at crazy far range if they can and you have to be ready to f$&$ing run. No bunching up. Everyone at different locations.

Terial, my side. Aree, Daile’s side. Varniro, my side. Reida, Daile’s side. Like this. Spread out- Daile, then Reida, then Aree. And for my side, me, then Varniro, then Terial.

I’d tell the archers to take rooftops if there wasn’t fire involved.

There are… more flames by the lynel, too.

And… We can't go into that soaking wet. We'll have water boiling against our skin. Facecloths only, because we have no choice.

And Fi's not arguing with me.

Okay. Everyone- face cloths only.

And of course the pump makes sound. Does the lynel know what a pump sounds like? Does it know that means people?

Hopefully not. I don’t hear anything rushing toward us. Still… keep it down, Genenko.

Terial went already- Aree next.

Fi, anything I should know?

Your oxygenation level is unchanged, master. But the area into which you propose to head is inundated with smoke. Your facecloth cannot protect you from asphyxiation, nor from carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulf-

Wait, from what?

Forgive me, master. Harmful gases. Your facecloth cannot filter them. It will protect you from burns and solid particles only.

We have to go.

Agreed.

O- oh.

Did you believe I would argue?

Yeah, kind of.

No, master. The beast must be felled. If one arrow would be sufficient to do so, I would suggest the Princess simply take aim and fire at first opportunity. But the beast would charge, and I believe you wished to avoid that scenario.

Yeah, yeah I did. She’s- she’s not ready for that.

No. She is not.

I… kind of thought you’d argue with me there, too.

…

Ohhh there you go again with one of your weird silences. Only this time I have no clue at all why. At least I usually know what it is you’re trying not to tell me.

Ah- my turn. Damn, I went turned-in-like. That happens sometimes when I talk to you.

Thus my efforts not to distract you, master.

Thanks. For the moment, though… just trying to creep low across the square and use the water.

I don’t see it anymore. It could easily come closer, though, just down another road. The facecloth wow needed that. The water… isn’t cool like well water really should be. It’s warm. But compared to what’s up here, it’s refreshing.

Okay.

Nothing for it.

You all ready?

Everyone’s smart enough to look scared. Probably more than they otherwise would be since they’re not used to fighting unarmored.

Reida almost looks angry. Maybe that’s how she preps herself for a nasty fight.

Or maybe she’s pissed because I assumed she’s willing to take on a lynel. I’m treating her like our own soldiers. But Zelda’s not stopping me, so I think I’m okay to do so for the moment.

Okay. We go. Now.

Try not to worry about Zelda, Link. Small smile. Hey- I managed one this time. Oh- there’s those balled fists again. She’s- struggling. Struggling not to cough.

Please- be okay.

See you soon.

Around the house. Keep watch. Wh- nasty thing- bokoblin heart. Pretty sure I see a moblin horn way far off, too. Wins for the missing people of Serenne. What-

Wish- wish I hadn’t seen that. Wonder who it was.

Who they were.

If- we run into monsters and we fight them, it’ll hear us. Daile sure didn’t-

“Kh- m.”

-want us making any sound. Though granted, he’s not the one who fought lynels. It was his father. But seeing a fight happen from far off is better than nothing.

Father did say they have amazing hearing. And eyesight. And sense of smell. That there’s almost no hiding from them, not unless you’re real far away.

Must be why. Why the people are gone. They may all have fled into the trees.

And been slaughtered by the monsters waiting there for them.

Of course. Of course. Line the trees with moblins and bokoblins, where it’s darker and harder to see they’re there, especially the bokoblins that just look like boulders in the dark until you get close. Then send in the lynel and those fire chuchus. Let them light the town up. Let the lynel kill everything in its path and claim the place as its territory, forcing people to run because between it and the fire there’s nothing they can do. Then they get slaughtered in the ring of trees. Boko riders pick off the few who escape to the fields-

The fields. My Goddess. They sent kids there.

And we didn’t kill all the riders, we didn’t, one blew right past us!

“Kh- m- m.”

My Goddess, my Goddess, there’s nothing I can do now nothing I have to find them later have to tell Zelda Goddess forgive me!

The sooner we take this lynel out the sooner we can help them.

The boy was alive. He was alive and he came back to help, right?

He did, right?

…Did he say that’s why?

He didn’t but he went back willingly. Yes. Yes, he said they still had the horses. They were… okay when he left.

Wh-

That’s a Moblin hand sticking out from behind that house.

Look.

Okay. It’s too close to our path, we have to take it out.

Your bow, Link, don’t make Terial cross in front. Here we go. Here we go- there’s its head, turned awayOHit’sturning SHOOT- sunk!

Dammit, LOUD moblin-

Varniro bowling it over it’s yelling take it OUT it’s too loud-

“KKRRRRRGGHRRRRRRR.”

The lynel louder did it hear did it hear? It’s not right on top of us not yet- what was that sound? Moblin-? Varniro has it the arrow screwed it up real good go go go ANOTHER, LEAPOVERTHISONELINK head it off, get it before it’s near Varniro- arrow thunked hit wood Terial missed WOAH!missedmemoblin STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE

Not dead not yet black moblins tough kill it shut it up YES good shot Terial SWIPE-

AH! Ittriedtoheadbuttme?! Good its face is in the dirt- NECK. It’s done. Right? Twist. Spine-OH! REALLY?! Hylia, get its-

Head. Another good shot- crunching?

“Kh.”

Crunching wood smash???

Moblin dead- other one too- there’s no roaring but somehow that’s not comforting they don’t look comforted either what was the crunching? Let’s go but this way, backward, around these houses, I have a feeling I just have a feeling it heard it knows and I could be wrong and if there are more monsters this way it’ll hear that too anyway and there ARE, blue boko right there, back up

F#$&!

“KKRRAGGHRRRRERRRRRR!”

The lynel different that was different

“You hear that?”

I swear it heard

“Is it starting?”

kill the boko kill it

“Shh…”

slice slice shield bash it bashbashbashbashbash

SLICE SLICE THRUST- THRUST! It’sgoingdown it’sgoing but I hear it hoofbeats it knows it knows send them backward Link!

Varniro, Terial, retreat! Behind me behind me go go go go go go go go go NO NO I stay, you go!

That was chuffing it’s close GO! Yes, good good go, now I back up, back up, straight though, straight, I think it’ll see me but not them at least not at first and they can take up other positions and more wood smashing it’s close what is it doing ANOTHER smash-

“Khm. Khm- kh.”

-that was close ANOTHER what is it doing THAT was a piece of wood flying over my head a beam, a piece of a beam, the houses, it’s smashing the houses, what’s left of them, does it think we might be inside or is it just angry?

My Goddess I feel like I can hear it thinking, its breath is so loud.

Zelda? She’s probably not looking at the slate. She shouldn’t be. She needs to be watchful-

THERE I just saw it whatever it’s using around that bend right there back up so slow Link so soft so it can’t see you not yet not yet no advantage I’m in the wrong spot and Daile’s not here to flank it though he’ll catch on and move, he will-

SPLINTERS WOODHOTHOT PATITOUT S&$^ PATITOUT

SOUND THAT MADE SOUND IT’LL

“KRRRRRGH!!”

HEAR

“S$&#!” “Sounds bad-“

WOOD!FIRE!EYES

“We continue.“

EYES NEEDTHOSE

“Yes-” “Yes, Princess.”

ASHLINK ASH JUSTDODGEANDPRAY DODGEANDPRAY SMASHING SMASHING DEEP BOOM DIRT WHERE I JUST WAS IWASJUSTTHERE AND I HEARDIT

“KRRRRRRRGH!”

Come on eyes comeON HOOFBEATS DODGEANDPRAYHYLIA ITPASSED MYBACKWALL SPLINTERSSHARP SKIDDING

Yes YESLINK It’sheavy it’ssoheavy ittakestime takes time to stop don’t panic clear your eyes you have a moment you HAVE IT and THEREITIS RIGHT THERE SKIDDED TO A STOP JUST LIKE A HORSE

Mount it!!!

YES! ITS HEAD ITS HEAD BASH ITS HEAD BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH

AH! FFF!

“Kh- m- m- kh.”

THROWN

“Prin-?”

FLAMING ROOF my Goddess get off get off ihhhtFALLING!! ShoulderHOT HOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOT noLink moveyouHAVEto it’llcrushyou theclub HOOFbeats

ROLLROLL NEVERMINDTHEHEAT oh GODdess ff hurts rightwhereIwas whereIwasagain itsaim perfect mountingitworked butcarefulcareful-

“-RRRHH.”

That was different,wh-

RUNLINK

Fathersaid hesaid whenitjuststands burstofflame magic magic they’remagic thefire it’ll burst anysecondKEEPRUNNING

“HH!” “Did you?!” “S$&*#!”

S#%$NO!

“It appears-“

MYBACKMYBACK

“-as though the lynel has been engaged.”

Sh- sh$# singed keep running anyway

get your bearings for a second

it hurts but there’s been way way way worse the heat I think if my back'd been soaked like earlier I'd've lost all the skin all the skin

more FIRE I hear it

It’s pawing the earth-

DAILE!- no, no, hotwe’ll both be on the same side mime mime, I’ll circle around! Hope he saw that, go right Link go go go go go hot that pawing sound again what is it OHNO IT BLEW BY I MOVED IT BLEW BY WHERE I WAS IT’S AFTER DAILE

Please let him have dodged that please, straight back Link we’ll flank it as long as Daile made it PRONE HE’SPRONE

NO YOU DON’T! HEY! HEY LOOK AT ME I’M RIGHT HERE THAT’S RIGHT it has a bunchhot of arrows in it already I didn’t even realize couldn’t see Terial must’ve been going nuts on it from somewhere and CLUBOVERITSHEAD DODGELINK DODGE BACKFLIP BACK AGAIN

Master!

NOT FAR ENOUGH THE VIBRATIONS TOOhot MUCH PRONE PRONE

Your blood oxygenation level is dropping!

YES, Daile! Sword in its flank

Seek to exit the smoke!

DAILE BACKHANDED FLYING HOT HOWISITTHIShotFAST?

“Sirs- kh- hh.”

MOUNT IT AGAIN MOUNT

“The next well-“

BASH BASH BASH BASH

“-this way.”

BASH LEAP EARLY YES

Yes yes Daile- he’s up and it’shot looking at me again and CLUBNO BACKFLIPaaAAAH!

H-head. Good, Link, you’re good, justhot- hit wood, not hotstone

“Kh.”

you’ve had worse way way worseMOVEMOVE!

SMASHINGwood HOTalloverme BURNScrawlout crawlout GODDESS! Shakingground so close how did it miss-

BecauseVarniro!

95% and dropping!

Yesyesyes different hotdirections someoneELSEonitsback Reida it’s ReidaYES SWORD, LINK, RIGHT THERE!!!

Ohhhhitdoesn’tlikethat upitshorse-chestandthrough hotpullout backu- NONO rollunder!

CLUB HolyHylia itstillthrewme and I washot almost behind it, Daile good flank-swipe, arrowsarrows lotsmore Reidawentflying gettingup helpVarniro, itsbelly rightthere hotTHROUGH!

ROLL OUT!

Waveringwavering it’shot whining. Another arrow and another- what-?

PUSH VARNIRO! FIREBALLFIREBALLFIREBALL and HOToh HOTGoddess

MASTER THE FIRE!

IKNOW!!! HOTmy HOTclothes HOTmaskoffoffOFF!

94% AND DROPPING RAPIDLY!

HOTroll ROLL YOU TOO VARNIRO HOT if theHOT houses HOTweren’t here

YOUR BODY IS UNABLE TO REGULATE ITS TEMPERATURE!

HOTwe’d’ve gotHOT hit head-on and YES FI Hyliahelpme IKNOW

“Khh.”

HOTTerialdown? Don’tHOTknow

“Kh.”

crossstreetHOT CROSSLINK RUNRUN FIREBALLHA!missedme HOTHOTHOT CRUNCHING bashingHOT throughtheHOThouse togetme BACKFLIP EARLYLINK be somewhereHOTelse andHOT dotheThing thebowthebowslowitdownslowitall aimaimaimaimaimaimaimaimaimperfectshotbeperfectFIRE

“GRHHHUUUUU!”

Here HOTthey all come

“GR- UUUPH!”

To finish you offHOT

That’s HOTnot a battle cry

Not anymore

Reida

Went forHOT the throat

HOTThe others justHOT- through.

Think- I’llHOT take a breather.

“Kh- khh.”

YES, master, exit the heavy smoke!

It’sHOT down.

Whining.

HOT. Too HOT too hot thingsspinning backoffbackoffcooler

I almosthot feel sorry abouthot this one

Almost

“It’s the same here…”

hotBecause it seems more like an animalspinning

hotAnd less like a monster

It didn’t seem happyhot to kill us

hotNot like bokoblins

But nohot way

“Kh- hh.”

hotNo way

It washot it or us.

Andhot this village

“Oh!”

Or what’s lefthot

“Sir Liff?”

of it and its people.

“Hello down there!”

Too hot what’s she-?

“How fortunate.”

“What- Huiru!”

Yeah. Hot. Yeah- it’s-

“I’ve been following the well system, Princess.”

What?

“We’d thought you lost.”

hotNot now.

“Haha. I was for a time.”

Priorities.

“But now I’ve found you.”

We regroup with the others. They’ll’ve moved.

“Indeed. Huiri-“

We succeed, we returnhot.

“Yes, Princess?”

Not saying it again.

“Is there wind below?”

We’re leaving. Hot.

“Yes.”

You want to stay behind and wait, stay behind. Hot.

hotWow. Get your hotf$&#ing priorities straight.

“Princess?”

Grantedhot the apothecary would pay an ass ton for any lynel part of any kindhot.

“Kh- have you seen anyone down there?”

But I am NOT waiting aroundhot here-

“A few bodies.”

-for it to disintegrate. Hylia help me.

Damn- damn, speaking ofhot priorities- Hey- that well back this way first, everyone.

“Kh. I- see.”

Fresher, cooler water for the cloths, it’s too hot not to-ohhh-spinningagain noo no no- stay up, Link

“Please join us above, Huiru.”

Master- you are at 91%

“Yes, Princess.”

Terial? Terial- Daile!

“Continue to be watchful, everyone.”

Yeah yeahhot help him spinning- out, out everyone OUT north north now!

“It sounds as though the battle has ended.”

You goodhot Aree?

“We kh- shall await the others.”

YOU GOOD?!

“As you say, Princess.”

Come onhot yeah yeah got you gothot

Cooler

Surehot hope now f$&#ing moblins jump us now.

Cooler This way!

The air is better here, Master.

Heh. Yeah. I could tell.

---

Part 17 coming soon (I hope!).

Follow this link to return to the chapter list.

Follow this link for my masterlist.

#adventure log+#adventure log+ AU #botw #botw fanfic #zelda #loz #zelink #fantasy #adventure #action #suspense #sheikah slate POV #unorthodox POV #zelda fanfic #got some totk references going now

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thebirdandthebee · 2 years

Text

Imagine Me & You

A Jake “Hangman” Seresin fic.

First time writing TGM fanfic - please be gentle.

Jake stumbles across a woman on base that seems to enjoy the finer things in life... just like the future he’d like to build - with her in it.

Thanks so much to all for the likes and comments, I’m having a blast writing this! Tonight’s chapter is over twice as long as all the rest and I think just what we’ve been looking for... It is, however, unedited, so apologies for any glaring mistakes.

Chapter 5: Come Back, Be Here

“And so what is this one supposed to do?” Mia asked, adjusting the small piece of cloth that was meant to cover the tip of her nose.

“Uh, I think yours is brighten and firm,” Tina called from the bathroom where she was affixing her own facemask between sips of wine.

Mia shrugged thoughtfully, taking out her phone.

“What about mine?” Bob asked, frowning at the packaging that he was having a hard time reading without his glasses on.

“Yours is moisturizing, baby!” Tina replied, strutting back into the TV room in their basement. She had invited Mia over for cocktails and appetizers after a long week on base. She was working her first court hearing starting next week and though she was confident working under Lt. Gen. Bozek, she wanted things to be perfect, a victim of her own Type-A personality.

The prep had kept her up past one in the morning nearly every night.

Bobbi was out of town for the weekend visiting her new situationship in LeMoore.

“Once you go military….” Tina raised an eyebrow, causing Bob to roll his eyes. She really enjoyed their company – they seemed like people she’d eventually befriend at any point in her life, but she was especially glad to have them now.

“Mia, when does Jack come back out again?” Bob asked, having gotten to chop it up with the younger Thomas when he was in town last.

“Not until after New Year’s unfortunately,” she explained. “I’ll head out to Indiana to visit him for Christmas, it’s hard for him to get out here between winter semester and baseball practices.”

“It’ll come sooner than you think,” Bob smiled warmly. “We’ll head back to Oregon to Tina’s Mom’s for Christmas,” he added.

“Oh I love Oregon,” Mia gushed.

“It’s the best,” Tina agreed, joining them on the big sectional sofa, popping a cheese cube into her mouth. “So Mimi,” she grinned in a way that Mia had learned was trouble. “You and our Hangman were looking awfully cozy at the Fourth party…” She trailed off.

“Were we?” Mia asked, acting as though she couldn’t remember the party from a little over two weeks earlier.

“Babe?” Tina asked, looking at her husband.

“Cozy,” Bob confirmed.

“Not any more cozy than with Rooster,” Mia tried to level.

“Oh please,” Tina snorted. “He took his shirt off and your tongue rolled down to the ground like a cartoon.”

“It did not!” Mia honked out an unladylike laugh, caught by surprise.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, we all looked,” Tina insisted.

“Hate to disappoint you both, but Jake and I are just friends,” Mia replied coyly. Friends who ate breakfast on the beach and nearly kissed on base – but she’d keep that to herself. “Speaking of, I haven’t heard from too many others in a while, what gives?” Mia asked, taking a sip of her wine as she thumbed through a magazine on her lap. When she received no response, she looked up to catch the tail end of a look between Bob and Tina.

“They’re out on assignment,” Tina said.

“Like at a different base?” Mia asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Something like that,” Tina replied. Mia didn’t love her answer.

“Wait what does that mean?” The blonde frowned, “is everyone okay?” She asked.

“No reason to think they’re not,” Bob said calmly.

“Explain,” Mia insisted. As someone who professionally lived in the black and white, she didn’t understand the grey they were offering.

“Sorry Mia, it’s confidential,” Bob gave her a sad smile.

“But you’re not there?” Mia asked.

“I didn’t draw the short straw,” he said, not sure how else to explain.

“Well when do they come home?” Mia asked, a little knot forming between her brows.

“Can’t say,” Bob replied.

“Well this is bullshit!” She frowned even deeper.

“It is,” Tina agreed, causing Bob to give her a sidelong glance. “More wine?” She offered.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I think the eighteen by twenty-four goes to the left of that window, and then the small gallery to the right,” Bobbi said, standing back from the window.

“Okay, but then where does the mirror go?” Mia asked, looking around the room at her options.

“Bedroom for sure,” Bobbi replied.

“Yeah, I think you’re right, but I’ve got to get my new desk in first,” Mia sighed. After living in her apartment for the past 11 months, she decided to upgrade to a slightly larger unit on the south side of the building. It was the nicest apartment available and she was pleased with herself for pulling the trigger on something she knew she’d appreciate. The new apartment would give Jack some more space when he came to visit and now they each had their own respective bathrooms, along with a den she could carve into an office.

“And when does everything else get moved up?” Bobbi asked, taking a sip of her water glass on the counter.

“Well, I decided I could do most of it myself, so Tina and Bob are coming by this afternoon to help with a few things,” Mia grinned, “I think I may have bit off more than I can chew.”

“You really strike me as a hire-the-movers kind of person,” Bobbi laughed.

“Normally I am!” Mia insisted, “but I’ve become such a control freak lately that I just decided I wanted to do it myself – besides, it’s only down the hall, it can’t be that hard.”

“Fair,” Bobbi nodded. “Well I’m going to order some salads for lunch and we’ll see what else we can hang up?” She suggested, grabbing her phone from her purse.

“Perfect,” Mia smiled.

The pair worked diligently hanging picture frames, mindful of the tape markers on the floor that would signify where certain furniture pieces would live. Mia was grateful for a friend like Bobbi – and by extension, Lt. Gen. Bozek for introducing the two. She had returned from Lemoore last week, a big hickey on her neck that she was mortally embarrassed about, but a big smile nonetheless. Mia loved to see her happy.

“Hey you haven’t heard from like Rooster or Hangman, have you?” Mia tried to ask casually, taking a bite of her salad as they sat around her kitchen island an hour later. Bobbi glanced up at the blonde with a small frown.

“Sorry, no,” she shook her head.

“It’s been like a really long time, right?” Mia asked. At this point, it had been over three and a half weeks since she saw Jake. Or Bradley.

She was new to this world – was being this long a good or bad thing? It couldn’t be good, right? Were they in danger? Had something already happened and no one had said anything yet?

“You’ll get used to it,” Bobbi gave her hand a squeeze. “I haven’t heard anything, but that doesn’t mean much. I could as my uncle if he knows anything?” She offered.

“No, it’s okay,” Mia felt silly for bringing it up, stabbing her fork down into her salad.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Bobbi offered a reassuring smile.

That night as Mia laid in her bed, she stared at the ceiling, still plagued with thoughts of Jake. And Bradley. What if something had happened? What if he was hurt, or worse? Would it take this long for them to find out?

Oddly enough, the first thing that flashed through Mia’s mind was all the times Jake had held her hand. Dismounting from chairs at The Hard Deck, stepping out of her golf cart, helping her up from the beach blanket after their beach morning. She wanted more of it. She wanted his hands on her in the way he lifted her to his shoulders in the pool or as he reached for something beyond her grasp on the grocery store shelf.

She wanted more sunsets in a patio lounger and darts at the bar, ignoring the boundaries of personal space. She wanted more rides in the Jag and maybe they could even start running in the morning together.

Mostly, she wanted to kiss his gorgeous face. She wanted him to hold her in those strong arms so she knew exactly where he was. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but she had fallen deep for Jake Seresin. So where the hell was he?

Wiping away a tear of frustration, she turned to her side and tried to get some sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Another week had passed and Mia’s court case proceedings were going well, but it was still quite a bit of stress on the young attorney. Following the morning’s hearing, she headed back to her office to unwind when she got the call.

“Your grandmother had a fall, she’s okay, but she’s asking for you.” The orderly explained.

Lt. Gen. Bozek had barely told her to pack up and leave before she was flying down the highway in the convertible. She hated driving in heels, but she was thankful for the short drive. She had called Jack on the way to give him an update and talked him down from missing class to come out and see Dorothea.

“It’s okay, they said she’s okay,” Mia reassured. “Don’t miss class – I will give you an update as soon as I get eyes on her. We’ll FaceTime.” She insisted on the phone, pulling into the parking lot for the care facility.

“Give her a kiss for me,” Jack insisted sadly.

“Of course I will – call you soon, Jack Jack.” She hung up. Putting on a brave face, she walked into the facility and was greeted by the medical director, who walked alongside Mia as they headed up to Dorothea’s suite.

“She’s okay, she’s stable. She does have a fractured wrist and some bruising on her leg,” the doctor explained. “We’ve completed a full evaluation and we don’t think this is a cause for concern, but simply that she’s an 88-year-old woman and these things happen.”

Mia knew he was only trying to be reassuring, but the fact remained, Dorothea was 88 and things like this would only become more commonplace.

“What was the response time between the fall and someone attending to her?” Mia asked.

“Less than two minutes,” The doctor explained. “Dorothea has an alert buddy, which senses if she’s had a fall and alerts us immediately.” Mia could exhale at that news.

“Thank you,” she said softly, pushing open the door to her grandmother’s room.

Stepping in quietly, she slipped out of her heels and padded towards the recliner her grandmother was napping in, facing out toward the ocean with the sea breeze coming in through the open patio door. Mia said dutifully beside her, gently resting her hand on Dorothea’s and feeling like she could breathe again.

It was one thing to be told someone was okay, but another to get hands on them and know for yourself.

“Hi sweetheart,” Dorothea smiled softly. Mia held back a sob.

“Hi there,” she replied, giving Dorothea’s hand a small squeeze.

“Why so sad?” Her grandmother asked, seeing the trouble behind her mirrored brown eyes.

“Oh, I was just worried about you,” Mia said gently.

Moving was stressful, the need to win her first court case was looming over her shoulders and wondering every 10 minutes if Jake was okay was taking a toll on her. Throw in an ailing grandmother on top of that and Mia felt a little bit like her world was caving in on top of her.

“You don’t need to worry about me, my darling girl,” Dorothea insisted. “I’m doing quite well – I won’t be dancing anytime soon, but that’s just fine.” Mia let a single tear slip with her soft laugh. “Come on, there must be more?” Her grandmother pressed.

Mia sucked in a small breath, running her free hand through her hair.

“I’m worried about my friend,” She explained. “He’s an aviator on base and he’s been gone for a long time. We don’t really get to know any details or when he’ll be back.” She added.

Dorothea patted Mia’s hand gently.

“I’m sorry, Mimi,” Dorothea sympathized. “Does he know how you feel about him?” She asked. Mia’s eyes cut over to her grandmother, who gave her a serene look but just a corner of her mouth was upturned.

“No,” Mia gave her a sad smile. “I mean, I only just figured it out for myself the other day, but I do care about him a lot.”

“Is he handsome?” Dorothea asked, causing Mia to giggle, breaking the tension in her brows.

“So handsome,” she agreed. “You’d love him.” She insisted. “His name is Jake and he’s a total gentleman – from Texas.”

“Cowboy,” Dorothea winked, making Mia laugh again. She was so glad her grandmother was okay – but it didn’t change the fact that she was becoming more and more fragile.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mia was back at work three days later, hair a little out of place and a hint of darkness under her eyes. It was piling on – the pressure. Jack was stressed about school and calling her every night, during the day, she was pounding away at work while devoting as much time as she could talking to Dorothea.

Her move was going slower than she could believe and was living between two apartments – getting ready in one unit before walking down the hall to get the rest of her things. Her complex was being gracious with her move-out period.

That, and still nothing from the Lieutenant Commander.

As the day wound down, she could see the light in Lt. Gen. Bozek’s office click on. Neither of them had designs to leave anytime soon.

After going over two hours of deposition with Bozek, it was nearing eight o’clock and her vision was getting more and more blurry by the minute. She was tired, getting cranky, and was hoping she could see a sliver of sunlight before it went dark for the evening. That was clearly out of the question at this point, as she could see the stars winking through thin clouds.

The full moon, however, was her saving grace, and she admired its beauty through the window of her office.

“Mia, it’s late, and we’ve got a Noon call time tomorrow,” Bozek sighed, standing in the doorway. “Why don’t you head home and try to get a few extra hours of sleep?” He suggested.

“Normally I would fight you on this, but yes, I will take your advice,” she smiled pitifully. Lt. Gen. Bozek liked the young attorney and he saw an incredibly bright future for her – this first win would mean a lot.

“Let’s head out, there’s a bus arriving shortly and it’s going to get a bit busy on base,” he explained. “Actually we might already be S-O-L.” He said, craning his neck to see cars already leaving with their loved ones.

“A bus?” She asked, tossing her laptop down into her tote and switching from her heels into a pair of sensible flats that made her drive home much more bearable.

“There’s a small team returning tonight from assignment,” blood rushed her ears. “Families that live nearby can come pick them up from the base, it’s actually pretty sweet.” He explained.

“Jake?” She whispered, not intending for Bozek to hear her.

“You might find… a familiar face or two out there… if they haven’t left yet,” Lt. Gen. Bozek trailed.

“I’ll see you at Noon!” She called, taking off like a bat into the night as she escaped from the building, feet pounding down the stairs. She jumped the last two, throwing her briefcase haphazardly over the car door and into the passenger seat as she nearly leapt into the car. She prayed Jake hadn’t already left. She never saw his car on base, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have gotten a ride with someone else.

With no real sense of where to go, she simply drove toward the commotion that neared a hangar she had passed by a hundred times. Ten or so cars remained with a few lights on to illuminate the airfield. Parking like an absolute jackass, she hopped out of the car and began scanning the crowd. Forty or so base members and their families were milling about with big hugs and happy smiles.

She didn’t care if she looked like a lunatic, so she began to weave through groups, doing her best to identify anyone in the harsh, angled lighting.

It began to feel hopeless. There weren’t that many people that she’d lose Jake. She felt like if he was there, she’d know it, and she felt utterly lost in a sea of strangers.

Cutting her losses, she figured if she headed back to her apartment now, she could shimmy some of her kitchen boxes down the hall to her new place. She turned to walk down the parking area behind the row of cars.

Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she composed a text to Bobbi and Tina in their group chat, a pitiful frown on her face.

“We’ve got to stop running into each other like this, Thomas.” Mia’s head popped up at the familiar voice and her face crumpled upon seeing Lieutenant Commander Seresin leaning against her driver’s side door, his duffel bag sitting on the trunk of her car.

“Jake!” She let the floodgates open, running a full sprint at the tall blonde, who was more than ready to catch her as she jumped into him. He held her tightly against him, reveling in the feeling as she buried her face into his neck, giving him a reason to inhale the scent of her shampoo and that damned perfume.

He gently rocked them back and forth as she squeezed him tight, and he could feel the tiny, telltale shakes of her shoulders.

“It’s okay, I’m here, darlin’,” he murmured pressing his lips to her temple. “Everything’s okay,” he cooed, “I’m here.”

“Why didn’t you call?” She cried, “why didn’t you let me know you were okay?” She asked. He leaned against her car a little further when he realized she wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“If I could have, I would have, sweetheart,” he explained gently. “I wanted to every day.” He could feel the tears catch on the fabric of his cotton tee.

“Stay with me tonight?” She asked, pulling back and looking up at him with those bleary, honey-gold eyes. Even in the dark of the evening, they seemed to glow.

“There is nothing else I’d rather do.”

The two drove in comfortable silence back to Mia’s apartment, her crowding him as much as possible – him, glad to maneuver the two-seater with one hand as the other arm draped across her shoulders, holding her into his side.

“I got it, Mia, you go on ahead,” he said, tossing his duffel over his shoulder and grabbing her work tote as well. In the elevator to the fifteenth floor, she crowded him yet again, pressing her face into his chest. She didn’t like the smell that clung to his Navy-issued clothing. It didn’t smell like him. “Darlin’, why’s your mattress on the ground?” He said after she led him through the halfway-furnished apartment to her bedroom.

“I’m moving,” she said quietly. “Just down the hall, but I can’t move my bed frame on my own and Tina and Bob had to cancel on me because Bob’s got the flu and Bobbi’s back in Lemoore this weekend, and I’ve been in Del Mar with my grandmother since she fell and I’ve got this court hearing tomorrow and –” She began to wind herself up again.

“Okay, okay, let’s get you changed out of your work clothes,” he said, scooting her over to her closet. “Do you have some pajamas here?” She nodded, rubbing her hands across her face. “You get changed and I’ll grab us a drink, okay?” He offered, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She paused, taking him in in the warm light of her apartment. He’d never been here, but something about his presence made it feel like home.

He, too, looked like he’d been missing some sleep, and his skin was irritated across his forehead and by his ears. He’d never looked so handsome.

He knew what she was thinking, and before she could fully grasp his jaw in her hands, his lips were on hers.

She was soft and warm and everything he had dreamed of the past four weeks in his twin cot on the carrier. His arms wound around her waist as she rocked forward on her toes, stretching to reach him as she slanted her mouth over his.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked,” she said after softly pulling away. He knew he would always enjoy his downward view of her eyelashes before she looked up at him – a dazed expression on her face.

“Please never apologize,” he murmured, cupping her face in his hand, itching to run his fingers through her hair. “Change, meet me back here in two,” he instructed, pressing another firm kiss to her lips.

As soon as he stepped out of the bedroom, she flew through the closet, flinging her clothes off and stepping into a soft, matching set of shorts and tee.

Jake reappeared as she crawled into the elevated mattress – grateful she had made the bed that morning before work. He held two glasses in his hands, ice waters and a slice of lemon in hers. He was good with details.

“Drink,” he said softly, handing over her glass. And she did, as she watched him step out of his Navy-issued pants, folding them and tossing them over the back of her reading chair before pulling his white tee over his head. “Is this okay?” He asked, tossing the t-shirt on top of his pants before doing the same with his dog tags. He was left standing in his white boxers. She nodded intently.

The sight of Mia holding back the corner of the bed covers for him made a warm tingling surface near the base of his spine and behind his ears. He knew for months they’d get here, but now it was real.

Mia wasted no time crowding his space once again. He managed not to jump at her cold fingertips, but made himself comfortable in her bed as she came to relax on his chest. He tucked one arm behind his head and stroked the other up and down her back.

“Don’t leave again,” she said, propping her chin up against his chest. “Everything fell apart when you did.” She pressed a kiss to the warm skin of his collarbone. “Tell me about it, darlin,’” he insisted.

“Dorothea fell and broke her wrist,” she began. “She’s going to be fine but it scared the hell out of me,” she added. “I’ve been spending as much time as I can with her, but I’m working my first court case and we have another proceeding tomorrow at Noon that I’ve been killing myself on.” Jake listened carefully she continued. “Jack is freaking out at school about one of his senior capstone classes and is now doubting his whole major, and we talk every day, but I’m running out of hours.”

Jake paused his ministrations and simply held her to him.

“And I’ve been living between two apartments because I didn’t just hire the damn movers, I had to do it myself,” she rolled her eyes. “Turns out I can’t move all this furniture on my own.” She pressed the broad of her face into his chest. “And I just missed you a lot,” she confessed, her words muffled by his skin.

“Gonna have to speak up on that last one,” he said, rubbing her back again, very aware of what she said.

“I missed you so much – more than I thought I would,” she said, looking up at him once again. “I was talking to my grandmother about you and I just realized that… I have feelings for you.” She said, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

“Glad we’re on the same page, sweetheart,” he said, pushing her hair back out of her face. “Been waiting for you to catch up,” he added.

“Tina tried tipping me off… but I don’t know, I didn’t want to jump to anything I wasn’t sure about,” she explained.

“Tina’s a menace,” he grinned, kissing the top of her head. “Wanted to give you time to come around.”

“I’m here,” she said, her gaze dropping to his lips. He was eager to gather her up against him, her hands once again delving into his soft hair as his mouth claimed hers.

“Missed you,” he breathed between kissing, chasing her lips.

“I thought about you every day,” she confessed. “Just wanted you home,” she added, gathering her legs underneath her and swinging one over to straddle his hard body. Jake groaned as she pushed down against him, going cross-eyed beneath his lids for a moment.

“Alright cowgirl, just – give me a minute,” he grit. She didn’t. She pressed open-mouth, lazy kisses against his jaw, nipping his earlobe with her teeth in a way that sent a metallic zing right down to his cock. She reveled in the feeling of him hardening beneath her, feeling incredibly powerful in that moment.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” he murmured, chasing her lips yet again for a firm kiss. “But you’ve got court in the morning,” he added, pecking her softly. “And I’ve got some furniture to move.” He continued. “Then, when you’re out of court, we can drive some dinner over to Del Mar.” Mia withheld a whimper. She knew Jake would fix everything. “And I want to do this right.” He said pressing his face into her cheek and enjoying the warmth of her skin. “Because I’m crazy about you, Mia Thomas,” he said, catching her attention with his intent.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Lieutenant Commander.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x ofc #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin smut #FINALLY #top gun fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #jake seresin is a simp

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demure2 · 8 months

Text

Blood is Thicker Than Wine _ FOUR

> BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WINE [MASTERLIST]

— 1930s au

— yandere neighbor!chanyeol x reader || ft. best friend!sehun

— genre: angst, suggestive

— warnings: language, alcohol use, cigarette/substance use, mental illness, watching from afar, anxiety, gun, blood, older fella chanyeol

— word count: 3.5k

— note: hey guys, sorry i got caught up in schtuff. final smut chapter after dis one and then i will FINALLY BE ABLE TO START NEW WRITING. smut chapter IS coming soon. um YAY…!! open to suggestions and criticisms always :)

“Would you stop doing that, Chanyeol?” Your voice can’t help but come out small and innocently, not sure if he even hears you. You’re inundated by the pressure of his gaze beating down on you, the embarrassing urge to cry tugging relentlessly on your soft features.

“Baby, doing what?” His face softens. The gash across Chanyeol’s nose bridge looks more salient than ever, the dried blood glistening in the sodium light. His boastful posture deflates.

He inches dangerously close to you, until you can feel his emanating body heat. Blood on his lips threaten to spill over from teeth marks branded deep into his skin, eyes blown out and impatiently waiting for your response. A simple-minded man, he’s always been unsure of how to confront feelings meaningfully. If he could make himself think harder of anything better than easing it all with a smoke, he’d do it, but he can’t.

The yearning is sudden and impulsive on his fingertips, creeping down into his jacket. He’s ready to balance a cigarette between his forefinger and middle, but his pocket is vacant no matter how many times he runs the pads of his fingers over the patch of surface. Fuck.

“Stop telling me stupid things. Responsible for the death of Park Yoora? Sehun’s a mailboy and author, working part time as a mechanic. He’s never maimed anyone, never hurt a soul, let alone someone from your bloodline, Chanyeol,” it comes out harshly from your throat, crudely. “I have no reason to believe you and your lies anymore.” As if watching Chanyeol’s face falter and fall dramatically was too much to bear, you lazily shut your hooded eye, which have no problem sticking together easily due to the air’s stagnant moisture. The words are oddly visceral in his ears, cold and unforgiving all at once.

The townsfolk would agree that they’re used to, maybe unsettlingly too used to, Chanyeol’s eyes being void of much emotion. That’s the kind of man he is, after all, no one else can ignite unexpected life in them besides you.

And so, the gleam of betrayal in his eyes tonight is suddenly immediate, catching you off-guard nonetheless. His fitfully soft gaze hardens and his eyebrows scrunch angrily, watching your irises amplify with fear beneath him. “What’s so unbelievable about that, [Y/N]? Believe me, your little boyfriend’s maimed whether you want it or not, and he’s maimed my sister. Her husband couldn’t pay off a car loan and she was dead, just like that. Accept it, like I have.

You don’t have to be best friends with a murderer, you can come keep me company, bring me pastries or bake me an apple pie every weekend — I’ll take care of you. He's not your best friend. Don’t want him to be,” Chanyeol’s voice breaks, the weight of his acidic jealousy and grief awfully agonizing. He pauses to watch your stoic face carefully, searching for regret, but he won’t find any more than his own. “There’s bathtubs of our moonshine in front of you, aren’t there? Then what’s so hard to believe about that? Can’t you just believe me?” His firm tone becomes desperate, tender and divulging of his feelings.

“When it’s Sehun doing dirt, you don’t bat a pretty eyelash, you don’t think he could ever do it. When I tell you, you’re quick to deem me incredulous. You just don’t know everything like you think you do, bunny,” Chanyeol’s complexion toughens up just enough for him to not break down, an almost-sneer. The words come out in fragments, bits and pieces, his eyes still eager for validation in yours. The distance between your bodies makes you anxious.

You attempt to save your case, beginning to look crazed going back and forth. “Your lies are in poor taste. Let’s not forget that you’re villainizing Sehun, when you’re just as worse, Chanyeol — you’re jealous, aren’t you? You can’t bear the thought of me hanging out with him, because your filthy mind is convinced he’s fucking my brains out over the hood of one of his flivvers,” you hiss, voice tight and indignant. Chanyeol’s jaw clenches, teeth gritting together in his guise of red-eared anger.

“My ‘little boyfriend,’ Chanyeol? You think I’m a damned slut? He’s still my best friend, and I won’t let your apparent matters get in between us. And you said you'd take care of me? With what, with the criminal cash you’ve laundered? Why do you even do this filthy work? Where did you fuck up, Chanyeol? Tell me! What went wrong with you?”

The confrontation reminds Chanyeol of his roots. He bares his teeth, putting his hands up defensively. “No. Don’t talk down to me. I’ll take care of us. I will.”

“No, really, Chanyeol. Why else would you be working for bootleggers? You fucked up, and then you try to make it all better by making me think my best friend is just as bad.”

“I wouldn’t say that I fucked up. Would you rather have not known that he was doing those things? Would you have rather lived in euphoric bliss all your life, hanging out with a murderer? You should be thanking me, [Y/N]. Are you upset, baby? Maybe I did make you hate your little boyfriend and you’re afraid to admit it.” You flinch as he gets in your face, mere inches away. But the smell of ash is unusually absent from his breath, and on nights like these, where you’ve wandered too far away from home, it’s more unsettling than comforting.

Chanyeol feels his words pile on top of each other in front of you, unable to withstand his anger. Despite this, sweet relief merely washes over his anger for a second, like a crisp breeze. He hopes you can sense it, too. More or less, he’d tasted victory. He knows you’re sort of unsure now, insecure of your accords with Sehun and who you thought he was.

Men like Chanyeol are stupid, so he takes the chance to finally close the distance between you, taking you into his arms and murmuring into your hair. “You don’t like him anymore, do you?” Chanyeol is hopeful and gentle with his words, softly in your ear. “You don’t love him more than you love me,” he repeats. “You love me.” The feeling deep inside you that Chanyeol was right is acidic in your mouth, and it eats at you tenaciously.

You push him off of you and wipe your mouth, as if being that close to him was depraving, although you’d been pressed up to him before.

Over and over again, countless times before, but never close enough.

Sehun still occupied your mind without a doubt — how could he not, having known you for 4 years? You’d deeply cared for him since you first met in highschool — you, a junior, and him, a second year college student. Brought together by your close-rooted excursions home from school, he’d been your older brother figure. You remember it clearly, he’d bring along his two college friends with him to walk you home some days — Junmyeon and Yixing. They both had a crush on you that winter, red noses and all.

JUNMYEON’S ETHYL & GARAGE WORK’s formation was starting to make a lot of sense. Especially regarding their choice of hired hands.

By your senior year, Sehun had already been close to dropping out twice, but for some reason, stayed. Your momma liked Sehun all the same, wishful thinking that he’d end up somewhere.

You start hesitantly, worry etched into your expression. “I didn’t know he was like this. I didn’t know both of you were involved in this, Chanyeol, and if I did, I wouldn’t have decided to know you. I’m compliant. I am sorry, but I cannot love crooked men like you.” Again, the words reverberate twice as cruel in Chanyeol’s large ears, echoing over and over. He can’t find a solution.

Still feeling the phantom trace of both of your hands pressed up to his chest, pushing him away, Chanyeol doesn’t like the feeling of defeat. “Talk about compliance? With what, laws or rumors? Was it so compliant of you to loiter and trespass into my house at midnight? Are you so compliant when Sehun asks you to use your pretty skirt to sneak a few cigarette packs out from the store? Who cares about what we do for cash, I know sure as hell that you of all people fucking don’t, [Y/N].”

You’re stunned, defensive and cold, so the words blurt out of your mouth before you have the chance to fully apprehend them, swiftly and fleeting. "I have a right to care, do I not?”

But they’re nothing of swiftly and fleeting to Chanyeol, repeating over and over in his mind in your gentle voice. You almost clasp your hands over your mouth, feeling your teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Gravity had pulled your senses together too late, long after the words had left your mouth. Chanyeol releases his heel, ready to turn around just seconds before.

The lull in his voice isn’t deceptive for once, something of a catharsis. “You’ve never cared. Aren't you scared of me, [Y/N]? You don’t think I notice? You don’t think I’m self aware? Of course I’m jealous, I know that I’m fucking sick, I’m in love with someone who I’ve watched for weeks." He says this in a tone matter-of-factly, but shameful in its meaning. He can’t help but feel allured to the thought of protecting your sugary elation from his potent, black tar of a psyche, despite eagerly desiring its corruption. “I just can’t help it, anymore. Men like me are stupid,” he says, and you notice that he says that a lot. “I always want what I can’t have," Chanyeol exhales, catching his breath. "You’ll never get it, [Y/N].”

Unsure of what to say, you look up at Chanyeol with demure eyes, tears threatening to fall at the motion of a blink. The cellar air is still cold yet saturated against your skin, harsh and unforgiving. You're just as destroyed, turning away from him.

You don’t think he does, but of course Chanyeol takes notice of you eyeing the stairway carefully, the center of each step slightly depressed in crescents after years of crude weight. You take one more look behind you at him, eyebrows still furrowed and focused on you. Then, holding your skirt down, you run as fast as possible. “I’ve gotta go.”

Chanyeol stays still, watching your form retreat up the stairs.

Making it back to the intermediate EMPLOYEES ONLY desk room, your eyes meet Jongin's. He's breathing heavily, his body already backed up against the door, barricading it with muscular leverage. Jongin smiles gently at the sight of you, sweat from the parching tension condensing at his cupid's bow. His eyes curve upward as he smiles. "Why don't you stay with Chanyeol, instead."

The sound of steady footfall echoes in the stairwell behind you, creaking the wood underneath. Desperately, you run up to Jongin. "Let me out, I have to leave." You whisper thinly, pushing Jongin's hair back to reveal his pink flushed ears. He pauses for a moment, allowing the stairwell noises to reverberate louder. Quickly, voice hitching in his throat, he quietly urges. "Relax. He’s gon' go mad if he sees you this close to me, sweet stuff. Let's back up, ‘kay?”

Discomfort vaguely reflected in your expression, you back away slowly, turning your gaze to the stairwell. You watch intently as Chanyeol's torso slowly emerges from the stairs, holding onto the left railing.

Your eyes grace each other instantaneously, doubtful and ashamed. He approaches you first, although timidly, head down. Then lowly, pulling you toward him so only you can hear, he murmurs a pitiful "I'm so sorry."

Chanyeol looks up to press his lips together into a quick smile, glancing at Jongin — slang for thanks! Jongin nods, subsiding his body from the door. "Sehun's in the back again tonight. Still working on that flaming ‘32 Buick."

When you two meet the night air outside, his smile collapses again, everything inside of him falling in on each other. “Let’s bring you to him, now. He can drive you home tonight,” Chanyeol asserts coldly, angry at himself. He didn't mean to tell you all of that, especially before he’d told you that he’d loved you. He didn’t mean to tell you all of that for weeks, but stupid men like me aren’t good at thinking before we speak. His hands are rough and calloused, the functional arm brushing against your shoulder before quickly retracting.

You make your way around the back together to the rows of vehicle hoists in the large outdoor garage, moments of stillness and night peeking through the open air on the sides. Feeling pissed, you make sure to walk in front of Chanyeol, so he can see the perfect ellipse your hips sway in when you walk. You know he likes it.

You see it all at once; a vibrant and lousy red car with stained white wheels, and beneath it, a quietly focused but normally lousy boy. Black hair pasted to his forehead with sweat, and eyes thin at practice.

“Sehun!” you call eagerly, desperate for his familiarity. His narrowed eyes snap to you in an instant, then darts to the taller man next you.

You run towards him, even against the emanating smell of gas and motor oil from his work station. Then, you fall to your knees on the rough asphalt, meeting him eye level as he sits there in baggy denim, one knee up and the other leg stretched out like a cat.

“He took you here, doll?” His voice is shaky and concerned for the both of you, glaring at Chanyeol from a distance. Sehun’s face is covered in sweaty dew from exposure to the close heat, hands diligently buried in the car’s hind suspension beam and axle.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you work with him?”

Sehun’s gaze hardens intensely, his dark brown irises piercing the scene behind you. You turn around quickly, realizing Chanyeol was now close to the car as well, having walked to where you two were.

Sehun draws back his hands from the machinery and hoists himself up to the other side, out from sitting underneath the raised car. He dusts off his knees, standing up to reach Chanyeol’s height, separated only by the flaming red Buick between them — and you, sitting at Chanyeol’s feet. They stare at each other menacingly in the dim garage light momentarily. Their mannerisms are similar in this way; backs straight like soldiers for war, eyebrows furrowed and heaving chests. What could you do?

Chanyeol breaks the silence. Snarkily, he’s unphased, unmoving and still. “Just wanted to show your sweetheart what you were up to. Car fixing, wine selling, killing innocent families for patriarchs’ loans. She actually really missed you, Sehun. I’m so jealous, really.”

“Still caught up on big sissy? That happened months ago, don’t be so brash in front of [Y/N], now. Does she know that you taint the liquor you sell, Chanyeol?”

“She knows what my tongue feels like,” Chanyeol cocks his head to the side, sticking out his tongue to bite down on it. A taunting demonstration in Sehun’s face, the mockery is jarring. He’s taken aback momentarily, but that doesn’t stop him from putting his arms down onto the Buick’s hood, triumphantly. “What’s your fucking problem?”

“That someone I’m forced to work with keeps fucking with things I care about.” Sehun fucks up on the job, and he gets away kindly with a lengthy talk from Junmyeon about not killing innocent people for fear. Sehun fucks up off the job, and he’s got no one left to clean up for him. These things are still foreign to Sehun, still young and unsure of trivial matters. Like if the way his dick curves to the right will make him die sooner, or if he’ll ever grow any facial hair.

Your eyes dart between the two men and their exchange, though its difficult to see Sehun from your position, so you stand up.

Sehun throws his denim jacket to the garage’s floor, nothing underneath except skin slick with grease. The buttons make contact with the cement, clicking and clunking. Their eyes are locked, not parting for a second.

“You wanna go? Fist to fist like men?” Sehun clenches his fists with bruising grasps. Chanyeol laughs, “not really.”

He’d lose anyway, with one functional arm, the other in a sling to his side.

Sehun seethes, seconds away from lunging at Chanyeol anyway. “What’s got you so pent up? The girl here has your panties in a twist?”

“Every man’s own right to go and have his own wife.”

Then, Sehun frowns upon reaching an epiphany. “So pitiful of you. You dragged [Y/N] along so she would hate me.” Chanyeol smiles shamelessly, not completely a lie. “Some of it.”

Sehun begins to make his way around the hood of the car, nothing in between you now to shield against his vexation. The denim jeans he wears are dirty and caked with dirt at the knees, and the baggy fabric folds between his legs at every motion.

“Why don’t we put this in the past, Chanyeol? You always let all your emotions get the best of you, except anger. You always let the anger bottle up! Even now I know you’re not angry at me, even though I can’t bring Yoora back for you,” Sehun contends, strangely assertive behavior for him. “Let’s start over, Park Chanyeol. I’ll hang out with [Y/N], and you can go back to that Mélis doll. We’ll work together from now on, I’m not bargaining with you, now.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Chanyeol raise his hand up from his hip, slipping into his coat.

You almost would have missed it if it weren’t for the proud blood splatter on the cement, the vehemently loud noise over in the span of a blink.

Sehun jerks his body away from Chanyeol’s at once, your heart thundering in your chest. You watch stock-still and he wretches an agonizing groan, clutching his lower abdomen and collapsing onto the bloodied cement. Sehun calls out your name faintly, but you try not to look. His stomach makes an obscene sticky squelch.

Your scream makes Chanyeol wince with an eye closed, though the gloating smile tugging at his lips is harder to hide. “He’ll be fine, ready to work in a week. Just in the hip. Jongin and Baekhyun heard it, it’s nothing,” nonchalantly, he returns the hand to his side.

You rush to Sehun’s side before you have the chance to puke all over the pavement, holding his face in your hands. His eyes are hazy, but eyebrows still furrowed in a fit of silent rage, teeth hissing. “Hurts so bad, [Y/N]. You need to run,” he pants in your ear, tucking his head in between your neck and your collarbone. He’s lightheaded because of the blood loss, blooming through his denim jeans. His eyes plead, and he manages a small “love ya.”

“You’re gonna be okay, Sehun, I’m here.”

The silence makes you twist your head to find the older man, quickly. “You did this to him! You sick creep, he’s bleeding out, he’s hurt, he’s in pain. He’s going to die!” But Chanyeol is already leaning on a concrete pillar haphazardly, without a care in the world, “let him.”

You take off your slip-on coat quickly, then your tight, long sleeved blouse. The tourniquet you make resembles a bloodied kitchen rag, but it will make-do until Jongin and Baekhyun flood the scene. The slip-on coat makes it back on your form before they arrive.

When the men reach Sehun’s side, they work hastily and efficiently, before hefting his weight onto their backs.

You slip next to Chanyeol, still gazing at Sehun’s disheveled form. He’s still conscious, but in shock and daze held up. “You still want him to take you home tonight?”

“What is wrong with you?”

Chanyeol had gotten into the illegal trade while youthful, following his discharge from the militia. A jarhead, blunt and unsure, he’d reluctantly majored in business. When it all came crashing down in the midst of the roaring 20s, he’d decided that he’d work in law enforcement customs — an easy job that brunt men could understand, watching the crime rate reach an all time high. During these times, he observed Mr. Kim Junmyeon, a sophisticated industrialist, audaciously bringing in wooden crates of illegally distilled liquor crossing between Montreal to Manhattan. He wasn’t worried, because he knew it would work out in the end — and he was good at networking, even with the authorities.

Really, he admired Junmyeon’s work and dedication to the craft, lacking his own ambition. He'd let Junmyeon slip through easily, beginning to lack integrity. Junmyeon knew this, so he’d go back and forth with new bottles every two weekends, sparing Chanyeol a few for his kind gesture. Now, they hand out laundered money together at the pubs like candy, and crash autos like they’re nothing more than just carnival bumper cars. Sell wine like water, corrupt what you need to in order to get what you want.

Out of all, though, they don't meddle in each other’s businesses.

#by demure2 #chanyeol angst #sehun angst #yandere exo #exo yandere au #yandere chanyeol #exo au #exo x reader #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol au #sehun au #yandere au #yandere!chanyeol #yandere!exo

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crissiebaby · 17 days

Text

The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, crossdressing, inappropriate language, humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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*THUD!*

Plopping the partially picked-through package of Megamax diapers on the bed, Stacy finally gave up on trying to push the peculiarly placed padding to the back of her mind. “Okay, think. Skye and Latasha probably sleep together from time to time. It’s probably for emergencies,” she said to herself, finding the mental image of Latasha in a diaper too ridiculous to be believed. Never once had Latasha shown even a smidge of submissiveness.

So then…why Megamaxes? There were at least a dozen different diaper types downstairs in the nursery, any one of which would be sure to make a diaper-print fanatic like Skye go gaga. Meanwhile, Megamax diapers were medical diapers with no prints whatsoever. As hard as it was to envision a padded Latasha, picturing Skye in something this devoid of color was equally implausible.

Digging into the tattered packaging, Stacy plucked a single diaper out and promptly unfolded it on the bed. Skye wasn’t the only one unaccustomed to the realm of medical diapers. She’d been recommended Megamaxes numerous times due to the amount they hold but as someone who preferred cloth to plastic, she never pulled the trigger on that purchase. Poking the crinkly padding with her pointer finger, a ping of desire echoed throughout her midsection.

“No, no, I don’t need it,” Stacy scoffed, folding the diaper in half and pushing it to the opposite edge of the bed. To her, if she put a diaper on now, it would be like admitting Riri was right. Big girl beds weren’t for diaper babies: a rule that had been a part of the Padded Palace since its inaugural day. It didn’t matter that she could take it off after without anyone knowing. It was the principal of the matter.

…

But what if they were Latasha’s? Wouldn’t that mean the rule about wearing diapers in a Big bed was null and void? Furthermore, it wasn’t like these were the cutesy, immature adult baby diapers stocked in the nursery. If the elderly could wear them to bed, and Latasha could wear them to bed, so could she.

Having justified her decision, Stacy slipped her panties and PJ pants off, retrieved the previously discarded diaper, and slid it under her butt. She then took her faux maturity a step further as she momentarily debated if she should go the whole nine yards with lotion and powder. Eventually, she came down on the side that going without made the act of being diapered less juvenile. Taping the dry, powderless diaper to the hips, she wiggled her butt and giggled at the rustling noise she so rarely got the chance to hear.

*YAWN!*

Almost as if her ability to sleep was activated by nappies, Stacy was hit by a wave of exhaustion. Lounging against the stack of pillows, she slipped her legs under the sheets, accidentally nudging the pair of satin panties off the bed in the process.

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*THUD!*

Depositing Connor’s noxious nappy into its own plastic bag, Riri was sweating bullets. Scrunching the collar of her nightie up to her nose did little to block the nose hair-searing scent that circulated the air around her. Her enjoyment of ABDL, robust as it was, didn’t necessarily translate into handling diaper changes from the Big’s perspective. That said, she couldn’t help but feel an abundance of pride as she knotted the trash bag shut.

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Connor, having lost track of how many times he’d repeated that three-word phrase. Burying his face beneath the skirt of the blue nightie that Riri picked out for him, he could only imagine what the interior of his previous diaper must’ve looked like, though if the number of wipes it took Riri to swab down his bum-bum area was anything to go off of, it couldn’t have been pretty.

Riri wiped the moisture away from her eyes as she uncupped the cloth from her mouth and nose to speak, “Say sorry again and I’m getting the paddle.” Her tone was nowhere near serious in spite of her withering stare. Tossing the wad of used wipes in the diaper pail, she proceeded to lotion, powder, and diaper the caregiver who her Daddy actively paid to do the same for her. The irony was too rich not to chuckle at.

Spreading his fingers slightly, Connor observed as Riri fiddled with the tapes on his diaper. “Um…not to…uh…nevermind,” he said, his face turning a few shades redder.

“Not to what?” asked Riri earnestly. She didn’t want any secrets between Connor and her, even if it was just an off-the-cuff comment.

Sighing anxiously, Connor thought about stiffing Riri’s question. However, as he spread his fingers wide enough to peek through, his ability to remain stone-faced dissipated rapidly. “Not to be a backseat caregiver but the tapes don’t need to be that tight. You should be able to run your finger along the inside of the leg hole without snagging,” he said, his acquired knowledge of ABDL on full display. The color in his cheeks deepened.

“Is that so?” said Riri, unable to disguise her amusement over the way Connor glowed when he flexed his caregiving prowess. It was a comforting reminder that, regardless of the ups and downs, this was still a healthy outlet for him. After what happened with Stacy, Ellie, and to some extent, herself only a few hours prior, she wouldn’t have blamed the newfound ageplayer for ditching all kink wholesale. It was all she could do now to reinforce how positive and fulfilling a healthy kink lifestyle could be, “Let me go ahead and get that fixed then.” Unsticking and reapplying the tapes, she dragged her delicate finger across each leg hole. “There, snug as a baby bug in a rug. Hehe, that’s what Daddy always says.”

Snickering at Riri’s inherent silliness, a strange, yet palpable envy began to build. There was little doubt in his mind anymore that this was exactly where he wanted to be, especially as he felt the head of his penis dribbling pre-cum into his diaper. So…why did it still seem like something he should be embarrassed of? It was as if every fiber of his being was compelling him toward a world of padded pleasure, except for a faction of his mind that refused to let go of the adult he was supposed to be. Sucking in air through gritted teeth, he leaned his head back against the spongy changing table. “I’m tired,” he said simply, his mind abuzz with a myriad of illuminating and troubling thoughts.

“Alright then,” responded Riri as she moved to help Connor sit up. No doubt, she’d kept him up long enough for one night, “Why don’t we get you back in your crib? I’ll make sure that the trash gets thrown awa-”

“No…” said Connor, his eyes wide open and fixed on the cartoonish stars and crescent moons painted across the powder blue ceiling, “...I’m tired of feeling ashamed and anxious over something I want. I like diapers. Goddess, I more than like diapers, and fuck anyone who has a problem with that. Pardon my language.” He sighed once more, this time powerful enough to shrug off much of the weight that had been pressing on his shoulders.

Shaking her head, Riri took hold of Connor’s hand. “No, it’s okay. And you’re absolutely right. So much about ABDL centers around getting to ease into a mindset where you stop caring about self-image and let yourself be…Little. It’s beautiful, at least to me anyway,” she said, growing bashful as her gushing went on.

Energized and emboldened by Riri’s short speech, Connor shifted his legs off the changing table, allowing himself to sit up and take hold of Riri’s hand. His nerves were rampant but he didn’t care. He wanted to push himself. “I know it’s a lot to ask but would you be willing to teach me about Little Space? I don’t want to have to rely on others getting me off for my brain to relax anymore,” he said, unaware of what a massive undertaking his request was. Had he asked anyone else, he likely would’ve gotten some passive answer agreeing to help him only for their interest to wean with each passing day. Thankfully for him, he was talking to Riri.

Gripping Connor’s hand tenderly, Riri wasn’t prepared for the sheer sincerity in his voice and the heartfelt desperation in his eyes. She would’ve already gone to the ends of the Earth to help guide him through his ABDL journey but now, her commitment to Connor was as iron-clad as a pair of locking plastic panties. “I’m with you every step of the way. I promise,” she said, throwing her arms around Connor and pulling to his feet for a much-needed hug. As she leaned her head on his shoulder, she caught sight of their fellow nurserymate snoring away in her crib. A risky yet tantalizing idea popped into her head, “Though I must say, if you’re looking for an expert on getting in and out of Little Space, we could always wake our resident expert.”

Breaking from his hug with Riri, Connor shot her a look of confusion. She nodded for him to turn around, causing him to follow her sightline directly to Ellie’s crib.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlushyBen DD Gun1242 JFN Joshy LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi SissyDina Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & Three Anonymous Investors

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wellthebardsdead · 6 months

Text

Fools Prayer pt4

Part 3 here

———

“My heart… I tried… he took it… my heart.”

Nerevar: Voryn?… *blinks open his eyes to find himself in the ever familiar heat of the heart chamber beneath red mountain where his destiny was made, the air hot and searing, steaming the very moisture from his eyes and skin as he finds his foothold in what he knows is a dream* Voryn is that you?… *looks around with a tired gaze, having relived this so many times before in his endless, restless nights, before finally resting his eyes upon the horror before him*

Mephala: *strung up by her own thread, her body split open and her heart now replaced with that of the heart of creation, just as Boethia and Azura had forewarned* I’m too late- *staggers back as steam bellows from the pipes connected to the heart as it pulses weakly from her exposed rib cage, making her scream and writhe in agony*

Mephala: *speaking with a voice not her own, one deep and familiar in the crevices of Nerevars mind, voryns voice* my heart… he took my heart… I tried to stop him. I tried to- *freezes in place, her gaze snapping to nerevar as her face twists and contorts to that of a handsome dunmer man, with three, red eyes* Nerevar…

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

Nerevar: *jolts awake, shooting upright in his bed as sweat glistens across his golden skin* VORYN!! *gasps for breath as he clutches the sheets, grounding himself as he realises he’s safe in his bed* I don’t… I don’t understand- *jumps as the doors swing open and a guard staggers in dropping to their knees as they beg for forgiveness for disturbing his rest*

Guard: Forgive me for waking you your highness. I tried to stop the temple councillors. We tried to recite your orders but they said that justice for the good daedra and their people must be brought.

Nerevar: I- justice?

Guard: they’re preparing the execution of Vivec. Your men are approaching the city as we speak.

Nerevar: … *fumbles out of his sheets and swiftly grabs his armour* ancestors no we have to stop them!!

*meanwhile*

Vivec: *bound and kneeling amongst his captors as the silt strider bringing him to his fate sways slowly with each step, his body stripped bare and only covered with a rough sheet and the magic suppressing irons around his wrists and ankles, and his eyes heavy and fluttering closed with exhaustion, forbidden to rest, forbidden to be comfortable, and forbidden to hold a shred of dignity* …

Temple guard: *suddenly shoves him hard knocking him forward onto the hollowed ‘floor’ of the striders carapace* Oi, N’wah! I warned you about closing your eyes.

Ordinator: … *gently sits vivec upright once more, fixing the sheet over his exposed body* Back off from him. We were told to avoid excessive force until nerevar himself declared otherwise.

Vivec: nerevars word will not reach you in time to decide… my fate is sealed beyond those gates.

Ordinator: what-

Temple Guard: *raises their hand to strike the bound god* What did I tell you about tal-

Ordinator: *grabs their hand* shut up… *turns his gaze over the edge of the striders carapace as the noise of a crowd finally reaches his ears* what the?… *steps to the head of the hollow to see the entire city gathering at the gates with torches and weapons drawn as the stable hands hurry to push the raised platforms to the beasts side*

Vivec: *glances up at the ordinator* I’m ready to greet my end… *slowly rises to his feet with an exhausted, pained grunt, and a slight wobble to his step. Looking like he’s ready to pass out at any moment. His candles wick burned out at both ends, and the end of his rope unravelling in his grasp*

Ordinator: I- no wait!! Sit back down what’s happening?! Nerevar never mentioned this.

Ordinator 2: he said to retrieve him for interrogation not execution!

Ordinator 3: can you even kill a god- Hey wait unhand him!! *draws his weapon as temple guards suddenly ascend the steps to the striders platform and apprehend the living god with ease*

Vivec: *glances back at them for a moment, his pace halting like an immovable force, the shackles in truth doing nothing to halt him of his abilities* my words will not reach nerevars ears in time before it’s too late… please… tell him… I’m sorry.

Ordinator 3: *eyes locking with the gold and red of the dunmeri peoples embodiment of the present. And feeling his heart ache and hang heavy in his chest as Vivec’s words ring of truth in his mind. Bringing tears to his eyes from the tongue of the warrior poet, unable to speak or barely hold his weapon aloft as the temple guards lead him away* I- I will.

Vivec: *allows the guards to pull him away and down the steps once more, their hands rough and their grip tight, leaving visible bruising on his skin that once would have never of shown at the height of his power, now laying bare for the world to see as they finally set foot on the ashen soil before Mournhold and its people, and the sheet removed, leaving him exposed and helpless before their judgment* … *slowly raises his head, his gaze landing on several figures approaching him and the guards holding him as the crowd falls silent with hushed whispers overshadowed by the breeze, the high councillors of House Dres, House Redoran, and house Sadras* … *effortlessly pulls his arms free from the guards grip and kneels down into a graceful bow amongst the ash. A submissive gesture of respect made somehow insulting as he shows a poise befitting a god before them* if my death has been ordered, I go to it willingly. I will not delay the inevita- *coughs as a boot suddenly greets his face with a swift kick, knocking him onto his side and earning a mix of shocked gasps and cheers for violence from the crowd*

Sen Dres: *the new head of house Dres and holder of their seat within the temple of Mournhold, a young, and arrogant councillor with more vitriol and spite than reason and thought* You dare prostate yourself at our feet and pretend still to be more than a whore who stole power from your betters?!

Archmagister Vilinu Sadras: g-grandmaster dres please we should wait for the hortators decision on this mat-

Archmaster Redoran: Silence! Nerevars kindness allowed him to live once before, and look at where it lead him. Lead our people! And now he wishes to afford it again! He kneels before us a traitor to the temple and all of morrowind. He must die.

Vivec: *winces as the guards pull him up from the dirt by his shackles, his blood turning the ash to ebony where it fell from his nose and lip* I, *raises his head, his very gaze though tired and gentle, freezing them in place out of fear for what he may still be capable of* Am ready. To receive my judgement.

Sen Dres: *steps forward, drawing his dagger from his belt and grabbing Vivec by his long braid* and your judgement you shall receive. *steps behind him and yanks his head back hard as he cuts through the gods thick hair, hacking it off with glee believing himself to be humiliating him, completely unaware Vehk grew it out in his own act of penance for his betrayal to nerevar and his people* now then. *raises the braid up for the crowd to see and delighting in their cheers and boos, not at all noticing the tension leave the gold and blue skinned elves shoulders as he does so, like a weight both physical and emotional had finally been lifted* Walk before ‘your’ people. False god.

#vivec #fools prayer #nerevar #voryn dagoth #Mephala #yes the bitch is back #sen dres

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

Note

Hi @soleilnomoon thank you so much for my previous request I really loved it. I wondering if I could please put in a request for your la vie est drôle event 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I just read about it and it looks so awesome. If you are taking request and don’t mind can I please request Law x female reader with calla lily (smut). Time being at night with neck, thighs, hard kisses. Theme: Possessive.

you’re so welcome ❤ i had fun writing it and had to cut myself off or else it would’ve been too long lmao but omg i’m excited you sent a request for this! i think i might keep the prompts going a little while longer, only bc there are so many options and i like writing them lol

2.4k, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; feat. some jealousy, alcohol (briefly), law is sf petty & dramatic idk what to tell u, oral (f receiving), and other cute things ❥.࿚◠.࿚ ʚῖɞ

💖☁️ la vie est drôle ☁️💖

starring: "surgeon of death" trafalgar law x reader.

calla lily (smut) at night, with neck, thigh, and hard kisses; #9 (possessive).

spring brings tourists en masse to the island, making the pub rowdier than usual; smoke lingers in the air, heavy liquor sloshing all over due to drunken shenanigans from the patrons, uproarious laughter — it’s loud, it’s annoying, but that’s precisely why you like it. the noise brings you comfort, because you live alone and hate the silence. even though the bar counter is sticky and the food is suspicious at best, you still choose to frequent it with your friends. it’s more or less for their sake that you accompany them — especially when you’d rather be elsewhere.

after another round of drinks, you call it a night, not wanting to walk home too late. it’s a relatively short walk — fifteen minutes at the most — the cool air makes for a perfect companion, helping you sober up a bit. by the time you make it back, you’re exhausted — feet aching from dancing, voice a little hoarse from singing along to terrible music. smoke clings to your clothes obnoxiously, reminding you of why you don’t like hanging at that particular pub for too long; you tug them off of you as soon as you’re able, placing them in a hamper before taking a long bath.

the heat from the water soothes your muscles, clears your mind, and calms your soul. you come out feeling fresh, relaxed, and a tiny bit sleepy. you make a point to take your time moisturizing your skin, liking how soft it feels, even underneath your silk robe. on your way to your bedroom, a series of loud knocks — banging, really — on your front door interrupts your thoughts; you blink and frown at the noise. you aren’t expecting any company tonight. the knocking persists, and it crosses your mind that it might be your immature neighbor — possibly drunk or worse, needing a place to crash because he can’t find his house keys.

agitation pumps through you as you stomp over to the door, feet padding softly along the hardwood floor; and, because you like to give him a hard time, you open the door aggressively and don’t bother with a greeting, sighing dramatically before beginning your tirade.

“thomas, i swear if you lost your damn keys again—” you pause, eyes widening, mouth open because it’s not your neighbor that’s standing in your doorway. it’s trafalgar law.

the shock of his presence leaves you silent, which gives him room to leer at you, mouth twitching as it forms a small, but sardonic smirk. “who the fuck is thomas?” he asks before closing the door behind him, a brow raised as you try to gather your thoughts. it takes you a full minute, but your brain finally catches up; after ignoring his question, you pose one of your own, voice shaky in disbelief.

“what are you doing back so soon?”

that makes him laugh, even as he embraces you, strong arms wrapping around you securely; when he inhales, he’s instantaneously captivated by the rich scent of your skin — cinnamon, vanilla, amber, and apple — the annoyance that shot through him the moment he heard you call out someone else’s name slowly starts to fizzle out.

with your face buried against his chest, your words come out a little muffled. everything you want to say to him flies out of your mind; you’re so deliriously happy that you imagine this must all be some strange dream. you extract yourself from him with slight difficulty, laughing softly at the childish, unimpressed expression on his face in response.

“don’t make that face,” you chide playfully, “you’ll get wrinkles like that.” although, you wouldn’t care if he did — your feelings for him simply grow stronger for him as the months go by.

“you haven’t answered my question yet.” his words are a mixture of amusement and curiosity; he tries to school his features on his face, so that he won’t betray how he really feels. jealousy is not something he deals with well, so he’d rather not entertain it at all if he can help it.

but, with you — he finds that it’s utterly impossible.

“hm? oh, thomas? he’s my neighbor,” the explanation is simple enough, you already forgot you assumed it was thomas at the door. “he forgets his keys sometimes and usually bothers me for help.” the other neighbors don’t like dealing with him, and you’re too nice to really tell him off anyway.

dark eyes narrowed, law considers your words, but all he can think about is the fact that another man is comfortable enough to come to your home late at night without consideration. still, you’re an adult who makes their own choices, he can’t exactly fault you for your hospitality now, can he?

instead of voicing that, he reminds himself that he’s only stopping by for a few nights and to make the most of it.

you watch him, brows furrowed, a little worried that maybe you said the wrong thing; but all of that vanishes the moment law pulls you to him again, his large hand sliding around to the back of your neck, holding you steady as you look up at him. there’s a tenderness in your gaze that makes him question if should even sully you with his presence; law will never voice that thought out loud, but he knows you deserve better — much, much better than him.

still, is it selfish if he doesn’t care about that? if he’s not careful, he’ll find himself ensnared by you all over again. it was already hard enough the last time he visited, but now? he doubts he’ll be able to leave without you.

despite him wanting to keep a rather neutral face, you can tell that he’s contemplating something serious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask, maybe a little hesitantly, unsure if you’ve upset him somehow. the worry on your face is cute, and while he feels a faint flush creep up to his face, he clears his throat to stamp out those thoughts.

“nothing, just tired,” is all he says before picking you up with ease, ignoring all your squeals, admiring how soft your skin feels as soon as his hands make contact with your thighs. law is a man on a mission, and while he should probably be a little more gentle — he isn’t. he doesn’t bother closing your bedroom door, instead tossing you onto your bed without so much of a thought, admiring the way your robe falls open and partially baring your body to him.

even though you’ve been in a similar situation with him many, many times, it still gives you a thrill whenever he looks at you like that — like he can’t possibly think of anything else but devouring you whole. somewhere along the line, he sheds his clothes, and you watch, in awe, loving the way the dim light casts shadows along his body. he’s already such an enigma — wrapped in danger, impossible dreams, and lethal promises — but it’s also part of the reason why you like him so much.

the mattress dips under his weight, and you’ve long shed the robe, making it all the more easier for him to touch you without restriction. he runs his tongue along your neck, before biting and kissing the skin there. you squirm underneath him, body growing warmer from the contact. you run your nails along his chest, prompting him to bite you again — starting with your clavicle, along your breasts, down your stomach. in between each bite, he makes sure to kiss each spot, almost as if it’s a small reward for letting him have this bit of selfishness — not that you would deny him that, of course. you could never.

the small bouts of pain mixed with the softness of his kisses and tongue, makes you whine loudly, your thighs parting on instinct, hips rolling forward as his lips make contact with your skin again. he’s left bruising marks everywhere, your skin littered with soft reds and purples. you should really tell him off for that, that you don’t need people asking questions when they see you out in the open, but your mind goes blank when he nips the skin on your inner thigh roughly, sending a jolt through you. if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he has no ulterior motives. but you know better, and you know him, all too well.

it becomes more evident when he spreads your legs further apart, long fingers trailing along the folds of your pussy, dipping in between without a care in the world, your arousal greeting him like an old friend. your breath comes out in soft pants, lids lowering as you watch him, unable to speak until the moment he slides his fingers inside of your warm entrance, mouth latching onto your clit in a brutal attempt at claiming you all over again.

his fingers pump in and out of your slowly, curling as your hips buck against his mouth, although he hooks an arm around your thigh to hold you steady. the thing he missed most about you, is the way you seem to fall apart without much prompting; it strokes his ego in a way that makes him want to take you away from your tiny island and keep you by his side always.

he knows it’s improbable, the pirate life isn’t for everyone, but he can’t help but want that anyway.

your moans only encourage him, your delicate fingers thread through his dark hair, tugging on it recklessly as he fucks you with his fingers, picking up the pace, scissoring them inside of you with purpose. the moment he sucks on your clit, you swear you see stars; your chest heaves, mouth falling open as he treats your pussy like his personal plaything.

which, if you’re honest with yourself, it is. sort of.

he pulls his mouth away, only so he can speak, licking his lips and savoring your taste as his fingers never slow. he loves the way your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers without remorse; it’s cute. he doesn’t mind though, he likes that you can’t seem to get enough of him.

“tell me about him,” he says absently, as if he wasn’t currently ruining your life in the best way possible. your eyes shut but you manage to formulate a somewhat coherent response in return.

“wh—what? who?” you’re not sure why he’s even talking right now, when he could be busy kissing you.

law slides a third finger inside of you at your feigned ignorance. “your neighbor.” a clipped, terse response that should piss you off, but you’re too busy enjoying him and the sound of his voice right now to care. “tell me about him.” he doesn’t know why he’s asking; he supposes his annoyance didn’t actually go away, and he figures if you can think about someone else while he’s fucking you, then he’s not doing a good enough job.

except, you’re not thinking about anything or anyone other than the man before you.

“law, what are you—” your words are cut off when he plunges his fingers into you deeply, eyes watching your movements closely. if he keeps it up, you might pass out. “fuck, i don’t…” you’re out of breath, mind all over the place as he pulls his fingers out of you suddenly.

“i don’t like when you play stupid with me,” he says darkly, rubbing his cock against your pussy, further placing you under his spell before casually slipping the head inside of you.

annoyed, because your orgasm was right there and he took it away, you look at him fiercely, ready to tell him off “i have no idea what you’re talking ab—” his hips snap forward and he slams his cock inside of you, effectively silencing whatever nonsense you were about to spew.

“don’t you, though?”

you wish you knew; you’re so frustrated and turned on that you can’t think. he feels the same way too, unsurprisingly. and, while he won’t ever admit to his jealousy, you’re starting to see it; he gives you a haunted look, one that’s equal parts hunger and lust, with a splash of adoration because despite all of that he still cares so much for you. the heart is a terrible thing to have, he should know; you wrap your legs around him, keeping him close to you, his thrusts rougher than they normally are, and you can’t get enough of them.

when his lips finally meet yours, after being apart for so, so long, he kisses you ardently, a feverish rush taking over him as his tongue slides into your mouth. the heat that passes between you two is enough to make you perspire, but you don’t care; all you want is for him to keep fucking you until you can barely stand, until all you can think about is him. he wants to interrogate you further, but is steadily losing himself in the softness of your pussy, your wetness coating the length of his cock in a way that invigorates him further.

each kiss is more brutal than the last, and you dig your nails into his back in retaliation; he bites your bottom lip, making you gasp, and he angles his hips to fuck you harder. at the rate he’s going, you’re sure the bed frame and mattress won’t last — but you don’t mind at all. you’ll chastise him later over his possessive, unnecessary behavior, but for now you simply want to be in the moment and enjoy him while you can. you place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, making him falter a bit, hips slowing only because he knows he’s being ridiculous. as much as you want to hold on, you can’t; his cock is too much — too thick, too heavy — the way his balls slap against you should make you embarrassed but you’re far too into it.

more importantly, you’re far too into him to feel any sort of shame right now. when you cum, it’s like he’s finally figured out the meaning to life; you cry out, chant his name loud enough to raise the dead, and his thrusts never relent — until his own orgasm finds him. you’re both a sweaty, panting mess, and as his hips slow down, he kisses you again, a bit softer this time. possibly as an apology, or maybe because he understands that he shouldn’t waste his time over pointless petty thoughts and feelings, when he should be enjoying you properly.

you’re too tired to question him, but almost as if you’re a little possessive too, your pussy clenches around him once more to remind him that he belongs to you as much as you belong to him.

🌙 credit to leafsea for the cute crescent moon divider 🌙

#work kicked my ass this week so this took a while but it's finally done #law is a mess i know #one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #law x reader #law x y/n #law smut #🌙 la vie est drole event 🌙#fic request #only1nycsweetie

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dear-departed · 2 years

Note

sorry for the two asks in a row, read your post on breakdowns with the brothers, wondered if you could do breakdowns with the side characters? tysm, love your writing!! <3333

Hello, of course! I had fun writing this, sorry it came so late, I had trouble thinking of something for Solomon

Also I hope you don't mind, but I wasn't comfy with including Luke, please, enjoy :)

Reader is gender neutral

Warnings: angst, brief thoughts of s/h, lots of crying, swearing, MC pulls their hair

Word count: 5.8k

Diavolo ♥

• Diavolo’s a tricky case, there are some days when he has a few quiet moments to himself that he just lets it all out, and sometimes he’ll just ignore his negative emotions until it gets too bad. He’s seen Lucifer have his emotional drunk moments, but given that they’re usually drunk together, he doesn’t know how to handle other people.

• It was just a regular “meeting” or really just hanging out at the Demon Lord’s castle. Over the past few weeks, things were just building up, but today felt especially bad. You were in one of the castle’s many rooms with Barbatos, Lucifer, and Diavolo.

• “So, how are those brothers treating you?” Diavolo smiled, sipping on a cup of piping hot tea in front of him, admittedly with a metric fuck-ton of sugar.

• “Same as always...” Lucifer rubbed his temple, “but MC’s always a big help with them.”

• “I’m glad.”

• Slowly, their words started to make less and less sense as you absentmindedly stared at the floor, their conversation turning into a mess of static in your mind.

• The room was cool to the point of getting goosebumps, yet small beads of sweat gathered near your hairline.

• “Isn’t that right, MC?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by Lucifer saying your name. You directed your gaze back up to the three men, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?”

• “I asked if I was right.” He looked into your eyes, his gaze making you squirm in your seat. On normal days, this would’ve been fine, but everything felt too uncomfortable and awful and just... ew.

• “I-I’m sorry, I meant the thing before that.” The skin on your cheeks felt like they were on fire, your voice cracking slightly as your mouth became devoid of any moisture.

• “Oh, yes. I said you were working hard on your studies.”

• “Oh-” you cleared your throat, hastily taking a sip of your tea in hopes to wet your tongue enough to comfortably speak, and maybe to wash down the lump in your throat. “Yes, I have been working hard.”

• You stood up “If you don’t mind, could you give me directions to the restroom?”

• “Would you like Barbatos to lead you?” Lord Diavolo tilted his head, his crimson hair shining beneath the slightly yellowed lighting of the large room.

• “No, thank you.”

• “Understood.” Barbatos pointed out the door. “Out that door, to the right, 4th door on the left.” He instructed.

• “Thank you.” You were quick to skitter off, mumbling the directions he gave to you over and over until you found the bathroom.

• You quickly shut the door, taking a double take over the bathroom that never ceased to surprise you. The mirror alone was probably worth more than a collage tuition, with an intricately carved mahogany frame, a few of the details popping out because of the gold leaf speckling different areas.

• You slid down against the wall, taking a few rough gulps of air as you tried to steady yourself. The clothes on your back felt like they stuck to your body too much, you were far too aware of your tongue, how it didn’t feel like it was resting in the right place.

• The tears began to pour, choked sobs coming from your cinched throat as you hung your head. You let out a brief cough as you choked on your tears, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

• You failed to notice the footsteps coming from down the hall over your own whimpers and squeaky breaths.

• Until the doorknob turned.

• You staggered for the door, your knees smacking against the cold tile as your fingertips brushed against the lock on the door. You were too slow, Lord Diavolo opened the door, humming a soft tune.

• “Oh, my goodness! MC I’m so sorry I forgot you were in h...” He looked down at you, at how disheveled you looked, little whisps of hair sticking to the tears coating your face, your chest heaving with uneven breaths.

• “What happened?! Are you okay?!” he dropped to his knees beside you, his brows knitting together with concern. “Do you want me to get Barbatos? I’ll get Barbatos-”

• “Wait!” You croaked out, reaching for his arm, “please... I’m not- I don’t- I’m... I don’t want anyone else to see me like this, please, Lord Diavolo...”

• He was hesitant to touch you at first. “What do you want me to do?” His hand hovered over yours for a moment before landing on the back of your hair that was firmly planted on his arm.

• “I don’t know.” You sobbed, sucking in a breath. “I don’t know anything; I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

• He moved closer to your trembling form, enveloping you in a hug, which might’ve pressed you up against his man tiddies, but it’s not like that hurt anything.

• “Is it the Devildom? Would you like to go home?” He asked, his heart twinging with a distant sadness.

• “N-no... I just get like this sometimes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You said, your voice nothing but a rough whisper against his clothes.

• “Come, I’ll tell Barbatos and Lucifer not to disturb us.” He scooped one of his arms on the backs of your knees, using his other to coax one of your arms over his shoulder, cool to the touch against your feverish skin.

• You tried to compose yourself as he lifted you off the ground with ease, looking down at you, deep in thought. “Would you like to sit out in the garden with me? Perhaps to get some fresh air? Or you may rest on my bed, if you prefer to bundle up and take a nap or something of the sort.

• The two of you both decide to go to the garden together. He set you down on a beautifully crafted granite bench, drawing his D.D.D from his pocket. “As I said, I will inform all of the staff, along with Lucifer and Barbatos, to leave us be. Does that sound alright with you?”

• You shook out your sweaty hands, trying to cool your face in the same stroke. The outside air was certainly cooler than inside, with the moon and stars casting a gentle silverish-blue light upon Diavolo’s bright red hair. “Yes.. Thank you. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me like that and it’s nothing wrong with the Devildom, I love it here; it’s just that sometimes everything just feels like too much and some people say I overreact because it seems like whenever I have a breakdown it’s over the small stuff. B-but it’s not because of small stuff, it’s just the small stuff keeps building up until a little thing sends me into a frenzy and-” Your lungs begged for air as you spoke, until you had no more to give.

• Diavolo waited for a few seconds, waiting for anything else you had to say. “I understand. Well, I can’t say I understand you completely, people are very different from one another, but I can say I see where you’re coming from. And if you were to ask me, MC.” He took your shaking hands in one of his, “I, personally, don’t think you overreact at all. You’ve been so calm and accommodating to everything here in the Devildom, a feat which not many humans can achieve. I don’t think you fully understand how big of a deal that is.”

• He plucked a rose from a nearby bush, the underside of the blooming petals crafted from shadow, and the center of the flower was filled with bright neon colors that glowed in the eternal night of the devildom.

• “And because of that, MC, I’m proud of what you’ve become.” He stripped the thorns from the rose with the nail on his thumb, gently tucking the stem behind your ear.

Barbatos ♥

• This bitch is a robot.

• Barbatos does not have breakdowns.

• And if he did? You wouldn’t be able to tell.

• He doesn’t know how to take a goddamn break. If he feels stressed, he gets restless, and if he gets restless, he works.

• And if there’s nothing to do, because he again, never takes a break and already has everything done? He bakes.

• He is predictable in a sense that he’s good at everything, and he’s so consistant that you could mistake him for a machine

• He is terrifying, he is the most subtle and beautiful chaos you’ve ever seen.

• He is Barbatos.

• And that’s how you came to this moment.

• Another sleepover that Lord Diavolo had invited you, and all of the brothers to.

• You love the brothers, you really do. They’re good company, and they’re entertaining. But holy fuck are they clingy, and loud, and do they always have to be at war with one another?

• Belphie was laying his head on your thighs, Asmo practically draping himself over the lower half of your legs like some sort of cat. Satan was laying his head on your stomach, his legs kicked up over each other as he read a book.

• How he could read, much less see, with how dark the room was? You had no idea. Demon fuckery, probably.

• Leviathan didn’t touch you with any of his regular limbs, rather, he was in his demon form, with the tip of his tail wrapped around your ankle as he laid a little bit away from you, playing a video game on his phone.

• Beel, thankfully, was just holding your hair while he laid on the floor, his large hand resting heavily against yours.

• And then... and then there was Mammon. He was clinging to your arm; you were sure he’d wrap his legs around your waist and stick there the entire night if Satan wasn’t in the way.

• There was no Lucifer to save you, either, he was in another room, separated from both you and the brothers, which was totally unfair.

• And Diavolo, obviously, was in his own room.

• You began to wriggle in their grasp, “hey, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be back, if I’m not back soon then just go to bed without me.”

• Mammon let out a quiet whine, rubbing his face against your shoulder, obviously half asleep.

• Satan sat up, swift to smack him on the back of the head with his book. “Get up.”

• Mammon quickly unstuck himself from you, rubbing the back of his head, rolling over and curling up once more.

• Everyone else evacuated off you, leaving you to stand up and quickly scramble off. The urge to get away was strong, yet the feelings weren’t there, at least not yet. Your head felt empty; devoid of all coherent thought, as silent as the cold halls of the castle, all of the lights off.

• Numb

• You wandered until you stepped into what must’ve been the main kitchen. It had to be some sort of commercial kitchen, not the type you would see in a house, but rather a work place. The tile was cool beneath your feet, your eyes slowly adjusting to the unforgiving dark.

• Everything was stainless steel aside from the dishes you could see, all different shades of red, with edges of night and gold.

• Were this the house of lamentation, you might have sat on the counter, but given that you were a guest, you opted on seating yourself on the floor.

• You stared at the grout beneath the tiles, the edges of your vision mushing together the longer your gaze stayed still, the edges of cupboards swirling with the air around you.

• It felt like hours before your eyes begin to sting from being open so long, making your eyes water. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, slipping onto your shirt and dampening the fabric, all while you couldn’t be bothered to care, or rather, you wanted to ignore it. Pretend you were just tired, or you weren’t really sad.

• Were you sad, though? It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how you felt. Sad, angry, anxious? Just upset.

• Without taking your eyes off that spot, you slowly hugged your knees to your chest, your face contorting; lips quivering, and nose scrunching up slightly.

• Before you knew it, you were nothing but a puddle of quiet sobs, shaking like a leaf and sniffling. Your tears dripped down onto the corners of your mouth, covering your lips with salt.

• “I had a feeling somebody was in here.” You heard from behind you.

• Your throat grew tight, your heart pounding in your chest.

• Barbatos.

• Half of you wanted to turn around, but the other half wanted to pretend that it was just your mind playing tricks on you, that you didn’t actually hear somebody, but deep down, you knew you’d been caught.

• Slowly, you turned, aggressively swiping at your face to get rid of the tears. There he was, towering over you, inspecting a white tea cup, decorated with cold leaf. He wiped away a smudge with a towel in hand. He turned his gaze down to you, setting the tea cup aside. “What has upset you, MC?”

• You were hesitant to answer him, after all, he was the least emotional person here, it felt weird to mention this to him.

• “I just... I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.” You hiccupped, avoiding his sharp gaze. You made sure to keep his short and sweet, not wanting to hold up any of his time.

• Was he... still in his work clothes?

• Does he even own pajamas?

• “Ah, I understand. You feel as though you’re generally just upset, though you feel like you don’t deserve to feel upset because nothing necessarily happened that’s been out of the ordinary? Is that the case?”

• You opened your mouth to explain further, but... “yes, that’s... spot on, actually.”

• “Come, take my hand.” He held out one of his gloved hands, waiting for you to grab onto it.

• After a moment of consideration, you did so, allowing the demonic butler to pull you up off the floor, gently steadying you.

• With a snap of his fingers, a chair appeared, shrouded in a soft green glow as it warped into the room. He gestured to the seat of the chair, nodding his head formally. “Please, sit. I will prepare something to calm your nerves. In the meantime, please, MC, tell me how you are feeling.”

• In your gut, you knew he was aware exactly how you felt, he could probably just tell. That was already proven by how he pretty much read your thoughts aloud, but still, it feels different when you actually talk about it.

• “I mean... you kind of already said it. Nothing major has happened recently, but I just feel awful, I guess. I can’t tell if I’m annoyed or sad, but I feel like I’ve just been numb for a while and then all of a sudden, I just needed to... get away from everyone.”

• “Would you describe it as drowning?” Barbatos approached the stove, lighting the pilot light beneath one of the burners with a long match. He filled a kettle with water and placed it on the burner, then reached into a cupboard, pulling out a glass jar, filled with tea leaves, and a label you couldn’t quite make out through your watery eyes, and the fact that the kitchen was still dark, the only light available being the stove.

• “I would think so. Like when you’re holding your breath and you’re fine at first, and then you start to squirm, and the more you squirm, the more you need air.”

• He scooped a little bit of the tea into a strainer, clasping it shut and setting it inside the porcelain cup. “Is it also the case that you feel alright until you think about it?”

• “Yeah, kind of like when you feel bad, but you aren’t quiet crying, and then someone asks if you’re alright, and you realize that you’re not really alright. And really, you’re the furthest thing from feeling alright.” Slowly, your crying began to cease as you watched his dexterous hands, the pearly white of his gloves standing out against his dark outfit.

• He swiped his slender index finger across one of the countertops, rubbing it against his thumb with a thoughtful hum. He ducked down to beneath the sink, withdrawing a rag and some sort of cleaner. “Do you sometimes feel like those brothers treat you as something that comforts them, rather than someone who also needs comfort?” He asked as he sprayed the counter, wiping it down thoroughly with the rag. Part of you would bet that the counter was already clean.

• “Y... yes. That would be accurate. It’s like they argue over keeping me near them, instead of spending time with me, if that makes sense.” The more he pointed out ways you didn’t even know you felt, the more you felt like you understood how you felt.

• He put the rag and the cleaner back beneath the sink as the kettle began to whistle softly, billowing steam out from its neck. He checked his watch, eyeing it carefully for about 20 seconds before he finally poured the water in. Somehow, he managed to produce the perfect amount of water from the kettle.

• After about 7 minutes, he pulled the strainer out of the water, shaking it a little over the cup before discarding the soggy leaves inside.

• “Here, this should make you feel a little better.” He presented the cup in front of you.

• Were his eyes glowing?...

Simeon ♥

• Simeon definitely has his moments, but unlike a lot of the Obey Me boys, he has decent ways of coping, so it’s not often that he has a breakdown.

• Also, being the mom friend, he naturally has this 6th sense when people aren’t feeling their best, it’s programmed into his system.

• You had planned a study session at Purgatory Hall with him, given that he knows just about everything there is about well... everything, he’s smart, but never really brings it up.

• The walk from the House of Lamentation to Purgatory Hall wasn’t hard, only a few minutes, but it felt like the quaint little path led on, sprawling out further the longer you walked. You could feel the stones beneath your aching feet just a little more than normal, and the air nipped at your ankles; sinking its icy claws into your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

• After a short walk that dragged on for what felt like forever, you finally reached the door of Purgatory Hall, giving it a few weak knocks, adjusting the book bag that had begun to dig into your shoulder.

• Simeon was quick to answer, greeting you with his smile, sweet as honey. “Hello, MC. I’m so glad you could make it, come in.” He stepped to the side, nodding his head as you stepped through the doorway.

• He immediately had his suspicions, but decided to keep quiet for now. Despite his doubts, there was still a chance that maybe you just had to shake it off, or perhaps the walk was boring.

• “I was actually just making lunch, Solomon and Luke are both out running errands, so it’s just us. You’re free to join me in the kitchen if you’d like, we can study there for a bit. I’ll take your bag, it looks heavy.” He shut the door behind you, turning his gaze back to you.

• “I don’t wanna burden you, Simeon, it’s fine. Thank you for agreeing to help me out.” You suppressed a lengthy yawn, your eyes watering as you did so.

• “You aren’t a burden at all, MC! Really, you’re helping me just as much as I am you, I have trouble with some of the subjects as well.” He carefully pulled the bag off your shoulder, not giving you anymore room to argue.

• “...Thank you.” You said, dragging your feet as you followed him into the kitchen. He set your bag up against one of the counters.

• “Go on, take a seat,” he gently patted his hand against the counter.

• “Are you sure?”

• “Of course, Luke isn’t tall enough to reach some stuff on the top shelf, so he climbs the counter a lot. Sometimes I wonder if those of us who are shorter just don’t feel fear, because I’ve seen him hop down from heights far taller than him. Or you can sit on the floor, if you want, I just want you to feel at home.”

• You didn’t have the energy to act like sitting down somewhere didn’t sound nice, so you abided with his recommendation, hopping up onto the counter and scooting back until your back hit the cool wall behind you.

• “And how about I give you a little quiz?” Simeon worked over the stove, cooking what seemed to be bacon.

• “Mm, that sounds okay.” You leaned your head back, resting it against the wall as you listened to him shuffling around the kitchen, his footfalls soft beneath the tile flooring.

• “Alright, first question, what is the word for ‘curse’ in Latin?”

• You rifled through the words in your head, in a slight daze as your thoughts clouded together. “Uhh, imprecatio, I think. Yeah, that’s what it is.”

• “Correct! Good job. Next question, hmm... after the Devildom was formed, what covered its surface?”

• Sleep tugged angrily at your mind, gnawing away at your coherency. “A forest...”

• “Great! There’s an ancient elixir that needs three ingredients, powdered unicorn hoof, bittergrass root...” the rest of his words faded into the background as you felt your consciousness slip from your grasp.

• “...MC?” Simeon turned to look at you, slumped against the wall with your mouth open a little bit, as if you were about to answer before you fell asleep. “I knew it” He laughed to himself, shaking his head a little as he covered his mouth. “Poor thing, they look so exhausted.”

• The angel turned the stove burner off, carefully coaxing your legs around his waist and hoisting you up onto his hips, taking great care in having a secure grip on you.

• He hummed a gentle tune as he walked out of the kitchen, taking you down the hall to his bedroom. His melodic voice reached your asleep mind, lulling you further into dreamland.

• He fumbled with the door a little, eventually opting on just standing on one foot and opening it with the other.

• And with that, he set you down on his bed, tucked you in, and went back to the door. He took one final glance at you, tilting his head and letting out a quiet “awe... get some rest, you deserve it.” Before he finally shut the light off and closed the door.

• I would say you awoke to it being dark outside but... it’s the devildom. It's always dark.

• Instead, you awoke to the sweet smell of chocolate permeating the house. You slapped your hand out to feel for your phone on the bedside table, only to find that it wasn’t there, being met with nothing, not even the lamp that you kept. Just the cool surface of a wooden bedside table.

• Come to think of it, this didn’t smell like your room, either. Rather, it smelled of flowers, vanilla, and new books.

• Where?... What?...

• It took you a moment to realize that you weren’t in your room, in fact, it took you a moment to remember exactly what’d happened before you’d fallen asleep.

• Simeon cracked the door a little bit, peeking inside. “Oh, you’re awake! Good morning!” he opened the door all the way, two mugs in hand.

• “What... what time is it?” You groaned, slowly sitting up, your back aching.

• “I guess I shouldn’t have said morning.” He went to the other side of the bed, turning on the lamp on that table. “It’s more like nine o’clock.”

• “Nine o’clock?... but... I barely even studied...” guilt began to well in your stomach, regret prominent in your mind. “I just... I just... fell asleep?” Your head spun as you talked, your voice cracking.

• Oh dear god... er, huh, Simeon’s dad, was your mouth dry, and did it taste awful.

• “Yes, you did fall asleep. And I’m glad you did.” Simeon sat on the edge of the bed, holding one of the mugs of bubbly hot coco out to you.

• The edges of your vision swirled and clouded with tears as your lip quivered, the confusion of just waking up and not being able to recall anything striking you like a fast ball. “But... Simeon, that means I wasted your time.” You began to sob, the pressure of being put on the same level as the demon brothers finally catching up to you, all in this one dazed moment in Simeon’s bedroom. “A-and how am I going to pass if I don’t study every day?! I only have so much time and if I’m wasting it by being lazy and falling asleep, I don’t deserve any of this, I don’t deserve to be praised or...” you sniffled, letting out a heavy cough.

• “Hey, MC.” He set the cups down on the bedside table, scooting closer to you. He placed a delicate hand on your lap. “It’s okay that you fell asleep. If you’re well rested, that means you can absorb information.” His thumb gently rubbed along your thigh in a comforting manner. “No grade is above your wellbeing. If it’s too much, I’m sure there are adjustments that can be made. Do you understand how big of a deal it is that you’ve learned this much?”

• You stared into his angelic turquoise eyes, flecked with gold. Somehow, staring into those eyes brought you a little peace. With one look at you, it felt like he understood everything you were feeling, and he had the words to match exactly that.

• “Solomon, Luke and I, the demons at RAD; we’ve all had thousands of years to study, hundreds of years to take in the same information that you’ve only had about a year and a half to learn, do you understand how positively impressive that is? Everybody struggles sometimes, MC, and everybody is fallible no matter what anybody says, you’re allowed to make mistakes. And it’s alright to not know something.”

• You began to tremble the more he spoke, his words striking all the right chords in your heart. “I just... I don’t know how to take all of this in, I still have all of my knowledge about the history of the human world, and now having to relearn world history, but for the Devildom... it just feels so weird, and I’m really, really, trying. But it... it... it...” You stammered a few more times, trying to regain your bearings. “It feels like everything's melting together and this feels like I can’t possibly learn it all in time.”

• “Come here, my lamb.” He opened his arms to you, an empathetic smile gracing his features.

• You crawled toward him, flinging your arms around him tightly as you cried into his shoulder.

• He was warm, and smelled exactly like the room you were in. Slowly, he began to pat and rub your back, speaking softly into your ear. “There you go, just let it all out, it’s okay to cry. I know times get tough, and it’s alright to admit that. You’ll be alright, it’ll all work out. I believe in you.”

• When Simeon felt your shaking and sobbing slowly die down, he leaned back, looking into your eyes. “Now, would you like some hot coco? Solomon and Luke are home.”

• “Yes...” You sniveled, wiping at your eyes and mouth “Please...”

• He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing the top of your head. “Alright, then.”

Solomon ♥

• Solomon hasn’t had a breakdown in a while. He’s, how do you say it? Desensitized to so much shit.

• But nevertheless, he’s human, he gets it a little more than his demonic and angelic peers.

• Currently, the two of you were in potions class, in the middle of a mini-test.

• The task was simple to the untrained eye, just mix two liquids, drink it, and allow the instructor to see how your body and voice changed.

• He had already gone, he was assigned to turn into an older woman with brown hair, which he’d done with ease, and was now already back in his typical form.

• The instructor approached you, watching as your hands frantically scrambled around your lab station, your heart pounding, your mind succumbing to your anxiety.

• Solomon leaned on his knuckles, idly tracing the intricate swirly grain of the lab station he was at, humming softly to himself as he occasionally looked up to glance at you.

• You knocked over a vial.

• The sorcerer flicked his index and middle fingers up, eyeing the vial intensely as it quickly levitated itself up and back onto its stand.

• “Great job catching yourself, MC.” The instructor nodded, gesturing for you to continue.

• You gave Solomon a weak smile, hesitantly pouring in one of the liquids in a different tube, slowly drizzling another in.

• You peered into the small cast iron cauldron on your lab station, smiling in relief as different reds and purples swirled around on the surface, dancing with one another as they mixed.

• It was only when yellow and green began to bubble up to the top that you got concerned... it wasn’t supposed to bubble, and those were the opposite colors you were aiming for.

• It began to bubble over, quickly expanding and turning into a thick foam, covering the desk in a sticky, marshmallow-like substance.

• That was the final straw for you already anxiety-ridden self. You stood up without another word and darted for the door, nearly tripping over a stool. The door fluttered shut in your wake, only leaving the lingering smell of you for Solomon to cling to.

• You took a few different turns, before ducking down against the wall and curling your knees to your chest. Humiliated sobs racked your body, making you shake and shiver as you struggled to breathe.

• “Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot... idi..ot...” You choked out, tangling your hands into your hair and giving it a harsh tug in a desperate attempt to keep yourself in the moment.

• You brought your hand away from your face, forming it into a fist, pondering how it would feel if it were to connect with your head as hard as you could. Would it knock the back of your skull into the wall? Would you bleed?

• Before you made the choice, you heard swift footsteps making their way down the hall. You held your breath, but the longer they continued, and the closer they got, the more your head began to spin.

• “MC?...” Solomon stepped into your slowly fading view, your gaze feeling hazy as you stared at him, sucking in a quiet breath.

• Static and stars tangoed at the edges of your mind, dizziness gripping your thoughts. “Solomon?... what... what are you doing?”

• It took you a moment to realize in your delirious state, but Solomon had already taken a spot next to you, taking a similar position you were in.

• He said nothing.

• You stared at him, still trembling and sobbing, too wrapped up in your own sorrow to even consider composing yourself.

• He pulled out a spray bottle and misted you in the face.

• You couldn’t help but notice how cold the liquid was, it sent a shiver right up your spine, confusing you just briefly enough to stop crying.

• “What did?... What?... why?... what was that?”

• “Don’t worry, it was just water.” He slowly lowered the bottle.

• “W-what was that for?”

• “Just to snap you out of it. Come here.” He spread his arms, nodding once.

• Did this man really just shock you out of a breakdown?

• Holy shit he did. He just essentially did the same thing as when people throw sliced cheese at crying babies to confuse them.

• And by God did it work.

• “Come on, don’t be shy. We aren’t strangers, I know you need a hug right now.” He flicked his fingers a little, raising his eyebrows slightly.

• You scooted a little closer, giving into what would’ve been shame and just melting into his arms. He snaked his arms up your back, lacing one hand through the hair on the back of your head and pressing your face into his shoulder. “There, there. Everything will be okay, everyone has their bad days, yadda yadda, and eventually we’ll get over them. I cry sometimes too.”

• Warm, salty, tears began to flow from your eyes again, soaking into the thick fabric of his uniform. Your breath hitched through the sobbing, your lungs tightening up.

• “That’s it, cry it out. Don’t be so discouraged, MC. There are spells that I don’t know, and I’ve been studying for thousands of years, you’ve only been studying for a year. All these demons here have been alive for who knows how long, and you still end up getting better grades than a lot of them. That’s crazy, right? Just think about it.”

• The low humming of his voice vibrated in his chest, his breathing permeating your marrow and slowly soothing your nerves. “Y-yeah... I just... it was just so embarrassing...”

• “I had to be rescued a few times because I accidentally trapped myself trying to do new spells. And I’ve had my fair share of mess-ups. Mistakes are part of the learning process, you aren’t meant to get it right the first time, that’s what it takes to really absorb information. And you know? I’m really proud of you. I’m proud of you for messing up. That wasn’t really a mess-up, it was just a different spell you performed at the wrong time.”

• He placed one hand on either side of your head, lifting your face from his chest, his slender fingers brushing strands of your hair out of your face. “You’re one of the most impressive and strongest humans I know, and I know a lot of humans. Your magic; the power you hold is unlike any other, and any spell you perform is bound to hold amazing results, intended or not.”

• “Thank you, Solomon... It means a lot, those words. And from someone as powerful as you, and as strong as you... it’s like you take everything in stride, you always act like everything’s meant to happen.” You stared into his eyes, the portals to his soul.

• “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. If I’m being entirely honest with you, I was scared with becoming emotionally close with you.” A sad smile graced his features. “Truth be told, I stopped befriending other humans because they always die, that’s why all of my friends are demons and angels. I was sick of losing people. And then you came along, and you changed the way I thought.”

• He slid his hands from your cheeks to your shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze.

• “I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #shall we date obey me #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me barbie #obey me diavolo

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