#pls note that there is a distinction between

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older! eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson smut #older!eddie smut #dad’s best friend!eddie #dad’s best friend!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

[ncroissant]

HEAR ME OUT ON SUB! HUSBAND! FRANCIS AND DOPPELGÄNGER READER I BEG OF YOU AJAJSHSBDBJSEHE

sub! husband! francis mosses x dom! doppelgänger! gn! reader

summary: phone sex with needy francis mosses (pt. 2 here)

wc: 1.6k

content warning: nsfw, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism kinda (security camera on him), slight nipple play, masturbation

author's note: thank u for the great ask anon :) i had so many ideas with this one, but this one stuck the most hehe >:) sorry for literally taking so long on this, writer's block is a bitch!! hope you guys enjoyed this one !! not proofread, minors pls dni !!

it was just a quick one-two, in and out of this man's apartment.

you just needed a reason to stay in this person's apartment until you established your place. you'd act like his loving, doting partner, working their job then living their best life. that was the plan.

but here you were, complaining about their life like it was yours.

things were getting boring in the security office. there was no one to deny because you let your fellow doppelgängers in. plus, it was a weekend so no one wanted to be home today.

in contrast, something you did like about living your copy's life was your new husband. he'd come home earlier from deliveries just to wait for you to come through the front door. dinner ready, table set, plants watered. he was such a sweetheart, always tending to your needs.

unexpectedly, as domineering as he seemed, he was actually more needy in the bedroom. always needing guidance, extra attention and someone to boss him around. that's what got his dick rising.

so when you decided to phone his apartment, knowing it was off day, he was quick to pick up.

"hi dovie! how's work?" he had a little lilt in his voice, acting like he didn't stamper to the phone, knowing it was you. he wasn't one to give out his apartment number.

you chuckled at his speedy response, leaning back in your chair. "hi lover boy. it's going..." you trailed off, checking the window for any customers. "you miss me?"

"mhm. always miss you," he nodded, holding the phone tightly in his grasp. "when're coming home, hm?" like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

"miss you too, honey. my shift ends at 6. three more hours to go!" you cheered sarcastically, staring at the clock as you watched the hands tick. "you alright all by yourself?" you asked, pulling out a notepad.

you had a habit of doodling when francis spoke, he always loosened up when it came to you. "kinda. i miss you lots though. think 'm gonna read a book later," he rambled, though there was a distinct sound of rustling on his side.

"is that so? what book where you thinking of reading?" you placed the phone between your chin and shoulder, trying to find a pen. it was silent for a bit, but the rustling persisted. "francie? you still there?"

"oh, sorry," he cleared his throat, almost as if he was snapping himself out of a trance. "mmm, i-i don't know..." he was huffing softly, you could almost feel him breathing in your ear through the phone.

you were quick to put two and two together. "francie...are you doing something you shouldn't be doing?"

he almost let out a whimper, the rustling making much more sense. "'m sorry..." he sighed, the noisiness of his end coming to a full stop. "i-i was touchin' myself..."

as if it wasn't obvious already: his panting, his rustling. "'s okay, honey. do you need help?" he flushed at your suggestion, toying with the zipper on his slacks.

"b-but you're at work. don't wanna distract you," he mumbled, his thighs squeezing together at the thought of you guiding him to an orgasm.

"work's slow today. entertain me, honey," you chuckled, your laugh making his ears tingle. "want me to help you cum, hm?"

he nodded, forgetting that you couldn't see him. the blush on his face travelled from his ears to his cheeks, down to his neck and back. it was a sight you'd pay to see. "is your cock still in your hand, honey?"

"no, i was just rubbing through my pants..." he shyly confessed, feeling his bulge throb.

"m'kay, take off your pants and underwear and hold out your cock," you instructed, completely abandoning your doodles. "tell me what you were doing to yourself while i was talkin' to you, honey."

you heard shuffling against, fabric against skin. "mmm, well, hearin' y'r voice made my tummy feel funny. then i felt my cock feel tight in m'pants, hngh," he explained, his zipper quickly freeing his cock.

"s-so then i jus' started touching myself a lil'. just through my pants 'n shirt, nothin' else!" he defended himself, but his revelation made you smirk.

"playing with your chest too, hm?" you repeated, a wide grin plastered on your face. "is your cock in your hand now?"

"mhm!"

his hand was gripping at the base of his cock, squeezing it to get some sort of friction. he was kneeling on the couch, legs slightly spread, his balls rubbing against the cool leather underneath.

"why don't you start making yourself feel good, honey? stroke it nice and slow for me, yeah?" you cooed.

he did as you said, no questions asked, stroking at his already hard cock as slowly as he could. "'n then why not you keep playing with your chest for me too? since you had no problem doing it earlier."

"mngh...o-okay...!" he squeaked, his hips rutting into his hand. he quickly placed a hand on his chest, rubbing his nub with a waving hand motion. "o-ooh! 's so-"

"you really like that, huh? like when people play with your perky chest," you taunted, feeling your own chest feel heated.

you almost wanted to join him, but the security cameras in your office made you think otherwise. "i wanna go up there and fuck you, honey. you like that too?" you whispered, making him moan.

"mhm, mhm! c-come up, hn, please!" he begged, his hand picking up its pace. his slick was sticking to his hand, slowly gathering at the tip of his cock. "miss you, dovie! miss you lots, aagh!"

you could only imagine how pathetic he looked. legs spread, weeping cock in hand, nipples poking through his shirt. he would be waiting for you so patiently, waiting for you to come home with his cock rubbing against the carpet floors.

you felt yourself leaning too far forward, accidentally pressing a random button on your panel. francis' moans filled your ears, but a certain image popped up on the security camera feed.

your husband on full display.

"francie, can you look to your left a little?" you ushered him to look towards the camera in disbelief at your discovery.

he obeyed your orders almost instantly, making you smile. he was in the direction of the camera, but not looking at it directly. he was completely unaware of the it, as much as you were.

but despite the strangeness of it all, you wanted to use it to your advantage.

"lay on your back f'me, honey. make sure your legs are spread wide open," you instructed, watching him meekly get into position. "i want that shirt unbuttoned and your pants to your ankles."

he hastily got undressed, his hand cupping his left breast. you wanted to cum at the sight of your pretty husband all open up from you, waiting for your next command.

"what's next, dovie? what do you want to do to me?" he innocently asked, his freehand hooking under his thigh to pull it up to his chest.

you grinned evilly, looking at the lewd position he was in, fantasizing what you should do next. "i want you to keep stroking at your cock, and playing with your chest."

and he followed instructions so well. he'd stick his fingers in his mouth before rolling his spit covered digits around his nipple. then he'd stroke at his cock, the desperation to cum more evident on his face.

the way his brows knits and sweat rolled down his temples made it clear that he was close. all this while the phone was wedge between his shoulder and ear, making every moan very audible.

"don't slow down, honey. i need you to keep stroking until you cum." you scolded, seeing how tired his wrist was getting as he got closer.

"o-oooh 'kay! 'm t-tryin' my best, haaagh! hand's getting a lil' tired, dovie, mmngh!" his lewd moans slipped out, as his hips shook from the speed he was stroking at.

his eyes were screwed shut, drool dripping down his lips at the thought of you praising him. "'m cumming soon, dovie! h-have to cum soon, unngh!" he panted, fucking into his fist.

you chuckled at his desperation, closely looking at your husband squirming on the couch, curtains wide open for the world to see the little slut you were hiding away.

"'m not seeing you pinching your nipples, honey," you scolded, making him tense up.

he did what you asked for, tugging at the tips of his nubs, but your comment made his dick tighten. "hnnnghh! y-you can see me?" his back arched against the couch, the view of his dick getting closer to the overhead security cam.

"o-oooGHH! c-CUMMING! cumming, dovie! 's coming out, hnnnghhh!" he exclaimed, cum shooting out of his tip, staining the entirety of his face and the couch.

although the feed was in black and white, you could see the splotches of cum that coated your couch and the way his clothes darkened from the wetness.

"such a good boy, honey. did so well f'me," you praised, chuckling at the way he twitched in his spot, unmoving. "you g'na wait until i get up there and fuck you properly, huh?"

he nodded mindless, huffing loudly into the phone.

suddenly, someone walked up to the window. "entry request and id, please," you disregarded the lewd image in front of you, returning back to your job.

he felt himself cum again just from the sight of your professionalism. you were so sexy when you were on the job. his orgasm came too quicky, his cock throbbing at the loss of cum.

"n-need you to f-fuck me, dovie, hn..." francis moaned into the phone, making you blush. you mindlessly looked through the person's papers, paying no mind to accuracy.

you let them through with no questions before gripping at the phone. "'m leavin' early. just for you, francie," you growled into the phone, feeling yourself get worked up.

"be ready in 5. i'm comin' up."

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #sub francis mosses #that's not my neighbour #thats not my neighbor #that's not my neighbor #milkman #smut #x reader #ncrescent asks

[hoshiseon]

desire ♱ 001

♰ pairings :: ot8 vampire!ateez x fem!witch!reader

♰ genre :: dark fantasy, smut, strangers to ?? to lovers, fluff, maybe slight angst?, soulmates/fated lovers

♰ gen. content :: polyamory , references to religious themes, witchcraft and magick, mythical beings of all kinds, mentions of other idols, vampires with magical abilities, switches povs

♰ chapter warnings :: fear/anxiety, description of injury

♰ word count :: 8.1k 0_0

♰ note :: this took me entirely too long but hey! first chapter woohoo!! this will be my first time ever writing a series but i'm very excited :] pls give me feedback i'd love to hear your thoughts! and if i missed any warnings lmk!!

♰ main m.list | series m.list | next ♰

i've been walking for quite some time, i realize probably much later than i should. the sun had started setting long ago and now the forest was almost too dark to really see anything. but i need this mushroom. if this ointment isn't finished by tomorrow the merchants will never buy it and then how will i feed myself for the next week or so- 

snap!

i feel my heart thump against my rib cage as my head whips up at the distinct sound of a twig snapping. i focus my gaze on where the sound came from and watch as a squirrel scuttles up the trunk of a large tree. i feel the tension in my body release a little. great, now i'm being paranoid. if i hadn't gotten so absorbed in that book then maybe i wouldn't have to be out here past dark searching for a damn plant. as i grumble to myself internally, i become less and less aware of my steps which is never good for someone who trips over thin air more than is probably considered normal. and in that moment, the universe seems to prove that point by way of me tripping over a large rock and falling flat on my stomach. i groan as pain shoots through my already bruised knees (from tripping prior to this). brushing off dirt and leaves i stand back up and huff. i accept defeat and turn to hopefully find my way back to my cabin. only to realize, i have no idea where i am. have i seriously wandered so far? i do a 360 and cannot recognize any of the trees surrounding me. anxiety starts to settle in my gut as i come to the conclusion i am very lost. you'd think living in the woods would teach me enough lessons about roaming said woods in the dark...but apparently not. even still, standing here will get me nowhere so i turn back the way (i think) i came from and start to make the journey back. i pray to every god there is that i do not manage to get more lost as i try to keep track of the trees that i am passing… with little luck since its only getting darker. 

ssssnap!

i freeze mid step as a branch snaps somewhere behind me. whatever that was sounded much bigger than a squirrel. my heart pounds in my chest as the overwhelming fear twists my gut. reluctantly, my head turns to the sound to see nothing but a vast, dark ocean of trees. the once comforting darkness spikes my paranoia as my eyes struggle to focus on my surroundings. i hear another branch snap and whip my head to my right. still, i see nothing but darkness. this is not good. with no other option, i continue the path i started. anxiety courses through me as i walk and now im acutely more aware of every little sound, down to the puff of my own breath leaving my mouth. as the fear crawls up my spine, i start to walk faster and faster until im damn near jogging. i continuously stumble over the natural debris covering the forest floor but i keep my brisk pace, not bothering to slow down.

as my boots catch on a particularly large tree branch, i fall and look up to see that i seem to have come into a decent sized... clearing. in the middle of the woods? i push myself to my feet and look around to see a near perfect circle of space between the cluster of trees. i step farther out of the tree line and strain my eyes to try and see anything that could help me identify where i am. but i definitely would have remembered this clearing if i'd ever stumbled across it before. i've never seen anything like this in these woods besides the clearing surrounding my own home. as i look around confusedly, i forget that there was a small chance i was being followed by something. instead astonishment replaces the fear as i look around. but not for long. i start to hear the distinct sound of crunching leaves coming from my right. this time my entire body freezes for a fraction of a second and i do not turn to see whatever it is coming for me. instead i turn left and start to run. as i sprint through the tree line, i make it long enough that the clearing behind me starts to morph back into endless trees. but turning back to look proves to be a mistake as i trip once again and fall, unable to catch myself as i collide with the ground. sharp pain shoots through my knee again and i know this time i would not just have a bruise. i wince and cry as i push into the dirt to roll onto my back. 

through my fear, i could only hear my boots making contact with the earth beneath me but now that i am still i can definitely hear the pursuit of something coming towards me. it doesn't sound like running but then again i may not be able to hear over the sound of my own pounding heart and heaving breaths. i attempt to scramble to my feet and push through the pain in my leg but i can only manage a weak limping jog. i feel tears pool in my eyes as i stop to lean my side against a tree. there's just no way i'll make it to my cabin like this. and there's no way i'd beat whatever it is that's following me. as the pain in my knee starts to throb, i sink lower until i'm sitting with my back against the tree. through my wallowing i failed to realize that the sound from before had stopped. as i turn my head to look around, i spot a silhouette off to my left. back from where i originally started running. it looks like.... a person? who in their right mind would be out this far? it seems like the seconds drag on as i stare wordlessly at the unmoving figure. i have no options to weigh so i wait. for impending doom most certainly. but there's nothing i can really do. trying to get up again really isn't practical and would just alert them to my location, if they don't see me already. 

i blink and suddenly the figure looks a lot closer than they were a second ago. no... my mind is playing tricks on me no one moves that fast. my heart rate kicks into high gear as the figure starts to become larger. they're definitely getting closer. my reflexes kick in and i scramble with no success to get onto my feet. i hear my breath stutter and a cry threatens to leave my lips as the figure finally really comes into view and then stops. though it's still very dark, they're close enough now that i can see the person is a man. he's human looking... enough. but that doesn't really quell my fear. he's still not close enough that he could hear me if i spoke in a normal tone but i know he can see me. i watch as his head tilts to the side for a second before he starts to walk, much slower now, towards me. 

"are you injured?" though he's still not very close, his voice carries and i can hear the genuine concern (and confusion) in his tone. he sounds human enough. i nod, not trusting my voice at this current moment. he walks until he's standing an arms length away and then crouches down. 

"i apologize. i didn't mean to frighten you, are you lost?" oh. though i tried to focus on his words i became quickly distracted by his voice. a smooth rich tenor that made my brain a little fuzzy. i still can't see his face clearly but he has to be pretty with a voice like that. i was so caught up in my own thoughts i completely ignored his question. "oh, that may not be an appropriate thing to ask... uh if you're okay with it, i may be able to help you." he quickly backpedals once he gets no response from me. it takes me a few seconds to answer but really what have i got to lose? only my literal life. i can't get anywhere like this and there's... something about him. i would say my intuition has never done me wrong and if i'm trusting it, he doesn't seem likely to hurt me. so i nod once again and try to will the shakiness out of my voice. 

"okay... i um, i can't walk." i say, my voice quiet as i look to my leg that is still in pain. he follows my gaze as if he could really see what i was referring to. nevermind the dark, he definitely can't see past the two skirts i have on and the knee high socks and combat boots. he seems to realize this fact as he clears his throat and turns back to me. 

"i can carry you... if that's alright with you, of course." he answers back. he almost sounds shy... or embarrassed? not being able to see his face clearly is really bugging me but i nod anyway. he moves to make it easier for him to maneuver me before an arm encircles my waist and i'm being lifted from my seated position. i quickly swing my arm to go around his shoulders, ignoring the warmth i feel creeping up my neck, and try to hold most of my weight. once he has me mostly lifted up he scoops his other arm under my legs. i hiss when the movement causes a jolt of pain through my knee. 

i feel him tense and i rush to reassure him. "i'm okay, sorry my knee is just.... i'm fine really." i say and he relaxes, letting out a soft ‘okay’ as he stands back up to full height. as he starts to walk i can't help but try and study his face. this close i can see him a bit more clearly but not by much, the only light being from the bright, full moon. i can see enough to notice his hair and the outline of his features but not much more than that. as i look at him, i feel a question bubble to the surface and can't help but voice it.

"why are you helping me?" i ask hesitantly, hoping it doesn't sound like an accusation. 

"well... had i not frightened you, you would not have gotten injured. i do sincerely apologize, i had not expected you to run." he says matter-of-factly, like that was the entire reason he approached me in the first place. even though i can feel that that’s not the entire reason he started to follow me, i see nothing else to say so we continue on in silence. i watch as the trees break and we end up back in the clearing. which confuses me but i say nothing. once we're a few paces away from the tree line he stops. expecting to see nothing, i turn and look out into the clearing. except now there's a very large mansion sitting in the middle of it. my jaw drops as i stare. there's absolutely no way i would've missed that! but then i feel it. there's a subtle tremor in the air like a shimmering in the energy. magick. it tingles against my senses and if i didn't practice magick i would never have felt it. but it's definitely there. there’s no way… illusion magick is hardly used anymore and you'll find very few who are able to conjure illusions around anymore, most magick users being wary of them. so how he managed an illusion this strong is beyond me. i reach out with my senses, trying to feel the man's aura but i sense nothing out of the ordinary. he feels… normal. so how in the hell- he's..not alone. as the realization dawns on me, the mansion comes to life, lights turning on inside and out. 

"ah, this would probably be a good time to mention that i do not live alone." he says sheepishly as he looks down at my awestruck expression. "most of my housemates should be asleep or off to their own activities so we most likely won't be disturbed." i don't miss the maybes in that statement. 

"oh...okay." i breathe out still not believing my eyes. just as he's about to continue walking, the grand front door slowly swings open. i think i hear him mutter something under his breath but i don't pay attention long enough to try and discern what it was. the man standing at the door is tall in stature and i notice a similarity in the way they carry themselves with the grace of someone of high status. almost royal in a way. he strides down the steps towards where we stand but stops farther away than i assumed he was going to. 

"who's this?" the taller man says as he looks between me and the man currently cradling me. i probably should've gotten his name. he seems to realize this too as he looks down at me with furrowed brows. 

"y/n... i'm y/n." i answer instead, trying to save the awkwardness.

"and i'm yunho, nice to meet you. what...happened, seonghwa?" yunho smiles as he says it but he shares a look with his housemate, who i now know the name of, that i don't understand. 

"i startled her and she fell while running. her knee seems to be injured." seonghwa summarizes but there's another look that passes between the two. like they're not just having this conversation out loud. 

"ah, i see. well in that case, you're in good hands." yunho shifts his gaze to me and his eyes soften, similar to the way it would if you were trying to console a wounded animal. i can't help but smile at the kindness in his tone. seonghwa walks up to yunho and the latter turns to go back up the steps with us in tow. as we walk through the door, i'm immediately overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the interior. and we're only in the foyer! i can't even begin to imagine the rest of the mansion. 

the decor is dark; a blend of black, silver, and shades of red everywhere you turn. in the middle of the foyer sits a small pedestal with a statue of a woman with devilish wings standing atop it. she stares up with long, clawed hands reaching up towards the luxurious chandelier that glitters like diamonds. the floors are dark marbled tile and the ceilings are higher than i thought was ever possible. there's a wide, curved staircase on either side leading up to what i can assume is another beautiful foyer. down the hall in front of us leads to what i can see is the living room on one side and the kitchen and dining area on the other. i can't see the details from here but i see the decor in there is also black and red. the entire place is lit up in a warm glow from the light fixtures lining the walls. 

as i admire the opulence, i forget about the two men waiting with me. that is until i feel eyes on me. when i snap out of my daze i see yunho looking at me, there's a gentle smile curving his lips and w o w. in the dark i couldn't make out his features very well but... he is beautiful. even more so than his home. my eyes rove over his tall, lean figure and i try not to let my jaw hang. his brown hair is highlighted with honey blonde streaks throughout and his skin is perfectly clear. he's dressed head to toe in black with a long overcoat that brushes the back of his shins. the only color in his ensemble is the red on the inside of his coat and red accents on the undone buttons of his loose black shirt. the smile curving his lips slowly morphs into a smirk as i continue to stare. we make eye contact and i shift my gaze immediately, embarrassed at having been caught. 

"we will have to go upstairs, all of my supplies are in the study at the moment." seonghwa says apologetically, though i only realized halfway through his statement that he was speaking to me. i turn to look up at him and am once again struck by beauty beyond my comprehension. no seriously, what did i walk into? and how many more of them are there?! i try (and fail) to stare less but i can't help it. his eyes are sharp, almost piercing but also kind as he looks at me. blonde strands of hair fall into his eyes and i have the strangest urge to push them away. his skin is clear even this close and he smells delightful. has he smelt like this the whole time and why have i just noticed? i snap out of it quickly enough that neither of them suspects my silence and reassure him that it's fine. 

"i'll leave you both to it, i have things to attend to. but if you need anything let me know." yunho smiles and bows his head at me before passing another silent look with seonghwa. he walks away, hands in his pockets as he takes the steps. he turns as he gets to the top, sparing me a last look and there's something i can't put my finger on in his eyes. but then he's disappearing down the hall before i can decipher what his look meant. 

seonghwa

i look down at the girl in my arms out of my periphery again. for the millionth time since we arrived at the mansion. i wonder if she's noticed me stealing glances at her. not likely considering she has yet to mention it. i just don't understand. she shouldn't have been able to get into the clearing let alone our home. she stumbled through the barrier completely unaware of the alarm she raised inside these very walls. we all felt it when she passed through. the dim trill in the air, a slight shift in the energy. i can still feel the way my hair stood on edge and my senses heightened. our magick is powerful, we'd made very sure of it. so how was she here? and why? from what i can tell, she seems very human. she smells very human. 

she was right to have run at first but then she put up no fight coming here. it made no sense. this poor girl... she has no earthly clue what she's willingly walked herself into. or rather allowed me to lead her into. even now as i carry her up the steps, she seems utterly calm. of course i can still feel the way her heartbeat hasn't gone back to normal and i can feel the nervousness around the edges of her energy. but every time she looks up at me, her eyes are clear. no worry creasing her forehead or apprehension in her gaze. just clear curiosity. and i feel no anxiety with her here. not really. except for the swirling confusion, i feel... relaxed. definitely not how i should feel with an intruder in our veiled home. but i can sense it on yunho too. he wasn't afraid, just curious. maybe a little concerned. for her... she really shouldn't be here. 

i look at her once again and can’t help but be endeared at the awestruck expression that hasn’t left her features since we first stepped through the door. her eyes are wide with wonder as she looks around the halls and her lips are slightly parted as she takes everything in. i don’t even realize how long i’m staring, my eyes tracing over her features as we walk. despite how human she looks, she’s… beautiful. in an imperfect way. bright eyes, full lips, round cheeks, moles and freckles scattered across her nose. i watch as her lashes flutter every time she blinks and the way her tongue pokes out to wet her lips before she closes them. she’s enchanting. the thought snaps me out of my trance and i look forward to see us approaching the study. 

as we come to the door of the study i can hear the low murmur of voices on the other side. i pause, not wanting to disturb whoever is on the other side and also not wanting anymore of my housemates to know she's here. not that they can't smell her or sense her... but it would be best that no one else saw her. i don’t get much time to ponder my options because within the next second the study door swings open to reveal two more of my housemates. how lovely.

reader

oh you’ve got to be kidding me… i probably have the facial expression of someone who’s just seen a comet but really you can’t blame me. not only am i astonished by the sight of the immaculate study with a large, dark mahogany desk and more shelves of books than i could ever afford. but there’s also two very beautiful men staring at me inquisitively from the open doorway. 

“ah, i wasn’t aware we had company.” the shorter of the two says, clear apprehension in his tone as he looks me over. our eyes lock and mine roam over his face, his features somehow both soft and sharp. his blonde hair is styled and he’s dressed in a long, black overcoat that brushes the backs of his knees with red trim on the bottom with a vest over the white button up he wears. the buttons on his garments are all silver as is the jewelry that adorns his wrists and neck. my eyes trail over the necklaces he’s layered, all looking like they’d take me years to scrounge up enough money for one. grand, colored jewels and crosses hang off the chains of multiple while some just look like chain links. i glance back up at his face to see him already looking at me, a smirk curling his lips and a brow quirked. i quickly turn my attention to the man standing next to him to see him already looking at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable. where the other man’s features are softer, his are all sharp. piercing eyes, angled nose, plump lips, and a sharp jawline. he’s dressed in similar clothing except the inside of his coat is a deep purple and he has much more accessories. large rings, long necklaces, a plethora of bracelets. the top few bottons of his shirt are popped open and the muscular planes of his chest are on display. he’s much taller than the other two men and his long, muscular-looking legs show for it. his eyes never leave my face and for some reason, the look in his gaze makes me nervous causing me to look away quickly. 

“i apologize, she got injured and i offered my assistance. it is much too dark for anyone to be out there alone. we won’t be very long.” seonghwa says, sounding only slightly apologetic. it seems like he has more to say, an undercurrent to his tone, but he just shares a long look with the shorter male. the two men standing together look to each other, another one of those unspoken looks passing between the two. 

“that’s fine, we were… just about finished in here anyway.” the tallest one states and his voice, much deeper than the other two, pulls my gaze back to him. although he was speaking to seonghwa, his intense gaze stayed trained on me. there’s a question in his gaze but i’m not too sure what it’s about. i’m once again forced to look away but not before i got to drink in his features a little. it really shouldn’t surprise me that these two are just as gorgeous as seonghwa and yunho but still i am awestruck by their features. the two leave the room, both brushing past us quickly and not sparing a last glance as they continue down the long hall. 

seonghwa very quickly walks into the study and pushes the door closed with his foot. did i hear the lock click or am i imagining things? seonghwa sets me down gently on a soft brown sofa, being conscious of my injured knee. once he sees that i’m mostly comfortable, he paces over to the large desk and rifles through the drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. i take the time to really take in the room, straining my eyes to read the spines of the books i could see from where i sit. i can recognize a plethora of books on foliage and herbs, some i know i have on my own shelves.

“those books are san’s. he takes an interest in anything to do with plants and herbs.” seonghwa’s voice from the desk startles me out of my daze as i look to him. he looks to be pretty busy shuffling through the first aid, i didn’t think he was paying me any mind. but there’s a gentle smile on his face that i know i am not the cause of. there’s a fondness in his tone and aura when he spoke of this san, that must be why he’s smiling.

“well, ’san’ and i have something in common then.” i respond, a smile that mirrors his playing on my lips. 

“is that what you were in the forest for?” seonghwa inquires as he rounds the desk with what looks to be an ice pack, black gloves, and bandages in hand. 

i nod. “yes, i was looking for something to finish off this ointment i'm making. i was supposed to have it by tomorrow to take into town but… i don't think that's going to happen.” i say the last statement with a sigh as i look down at my hands fiddling in my lap. 

seonghwa hums as he comes to stand next to me on the sofa and i take note of how tall he is now that he’s not holding me. he kneels down to be directly in front of my knee, pulling the gloves over his nimble fingers. “well, i truly do not think it’d be safe for you to try and find your way back to your home now that night has fallen. even if one of us went with you, the forest is… different at night. but san may be able to help you find that plant in the morning, if that's something you'd appreciate. i don't assume this area of the forest is familiar to you?” as he speaks, he starts to move my skirts up and out of his way but my socks are still an issue. 

i answer him as i lean down to help him remove my boots and socks. “no… no i’m not familiar with this area at all. and i actually have no idea how i found myself over here… i wasn't meant to go too far but then it started to get dark and i lost my way… a few times.” i keep my gaze off him as embarrassment floods my mind. once my clothing is out of the way, we're both able to actually see the injury and i hear seonghwa take a sharp inhale next to me. that doesn't look pretty at all. my knee is inflamed and swollen with a nasty looking bruise right underneath and small cuts all over. i reach out to gingerly press two fingers to it and immediately retract my hand with a hiss. 

“how bad is your pain?” i look to seonghwa to see him studying the injury with furrowed brows. his gloved hands are cold as he shifts my leg back and forth, probably trying to gauge my mobility. but even that slight movement causes pain to shoot through my leg and i wince, reflexively trying to move out his gentle grasp. he murmurs an apology as he looks up at me through his lashes. i’m momentarily distracted by his gaze but quickly shake myself out of it. 

“it's… pretty bad. there's a dull throb even when i don't move it.” i answer his earlier question and try my hardest to keep still as he grabs a wipe from his lap to start cleaning the cuts. seonghwa nods but otherwise stays quiet as he starts the process of fixing the injury. we sit in silence as he cleans, bandages, and wraps my knee. i find it very difficult to keep my eyes off his face as his hands move nimbly on my skin. his beauty is incomparable, strong brows furrowed with concentration, sharp eyes with pretty lips. as if he can feel my stare, his eyes flick up to mine. i look away quickly pretending to stare at the shelf behind his head. i really hope he can’t hear the way my heartbeat sped up with that nanosecond of eye contact because it feels as if the organ might jump out of my chest. a man i just met should not have this effect on me. get a hold of yourself! 

seonghwa continues his work on my knee, seemingly completely unaware of my inner turmoil. between the calming silence and seonghwa’s gentle touches against my leg, i find myself relaxing further and further into my seat. just as my eyes start to feel heavy, a soft knock sounds on the wooden doors. both our heads look to the doors before i hear seonghwa sigh and mumble something along the lines of “excuse me” under his breath. he stands up and brushes the wrinkles out of his pants, making his way to the door. the beautiful, billowy sleeves of his white blouse sway with his arms as they swing at his sides and i watch him walk as if in a trance. i snap myself out of it and instead turn my gaze to inspect my knee. now that it’s cleaned and bandaged it doesn’t look as gruesome. the cool ice pack is relieving the pain and throbbing but the swelling won’t be down for a while. i’ll have to wait for seonghwa to make a decision on whether i’ll require more care or not but it doesn’t feel like anything more than a sprain. i test it out by twisting my leg and of course, feel pain shoot up my leg but surprisingly not as bad as before. my inspection is interrupted when seonghwa opens the door and a voice i recognize speaks up. 

“i apologize for disturbing you but hongjoong needs you. right now.” i hear seonghwa make a disapproving sound and i turn to look at the two. yunho’s already looking at me and seonghwa seems to be hesitant to leave. 

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, you can leave me if you need to attend to other things. can’t do much like this anyway.” i gesture to my leg and try to smile reassuringly. truthfully, the thought of being left alone in this beautiful strange home is making me nervous but i don’t need either of them to know that. both their brows furrow as they listen to me, neither of them really trusting my words. finally, seonghwa nods with a resigned sigh.

“i would not advise putting pressure on it but you should be alright to walk soon. allow the swelling some time to alleviate and do be careful.” he instructs and turns with a bow. yunho comes into the study and closes the door behind him. he takes long strides to the sofa opposite of mine and takes his seat. just like with seonghwa, i become entranced with the way he moves so gracefully despite his long limbs and stature.

“if you don’t mind me asking, how’d you do that?” yunho inquires curiously. his eyes are on my bandaged knee and he flicks them to my face for a second before looking back. 

mildly embarrassed, i laugh before explaining how i’d gotten here. i choose to leave out the part where seonghwa absolutely terrified me and pretend that me falling was all my own doing. i brush my hair back out of my face as i finish my spiel and it dawns on me that i probably look an absolute mess. i suppress the urge to cringe into myself, suddenly self-conscious. 

if yunho notices my sudden shift in attitude, he doesn’t mention it. instead he hums and nods as he looks back to me. “how does it feel? i know seonghwa’s pretty skilled with things like that. are you in any pain?” he asks and something about his voice puts my nerves at ease. i try not to think any longer about how the man sitting in front of me makes me feel and focus on answering his questions.

i shrug and shift my knee back and forth but notice the pain has subsided significantly. huh… that’s strange. “well… it doesn’t really seem to hurt at all anymore. doing this before hurt quite a bit but now i feel… fine.” i say, confusion lacing my words. i bend my knee experimentally and although it feels sore, the pain is barely noticeable. my brows furrow and i put my leg back down. yunho seems to understand my confusion and chuckles. 

“seonghwa’s got a way with wounds. we’ve all experienced it, trust me. you’ll be back to normal quite fast.” he stands and walks over to the desk, putting away the supplies seonghwa left out by accident. as he busies himself with that, i feel my attention shift back to the row of herbal books. one book in particular standing out to me. the spine is dark green with big, gold letters in a beautiful font and on the base, a golden honey cup mushroom. 

“would you like to read it?” i hear yunho’s voice from behind me and i jump, obviously too distracted to have noticed him move from the desk. he chuckles under his breath and the sound gives me butterflies. i shake away the feeling, internally reprimanding myself. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. those are sannie’s books but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind you taking a look. do you want me to get it for you?” i turn around to see him leaning back against the shelves behind the sofa i’m on. this man is sinfully beautiful. 

clearing my throat, i respond. “no no, i think i can get up.” i lean down and pull my socks back on before carefully swinging my legs over to plant my feet on the marbled floors. i hear rustling behind me and see yunho making his way around the sofa. i push my hands into the cushions underneath me as i try to stand. yunho extends an arm to me a little panickedly, not trusting my balance and injured knee. but i wave my hand and get to my feet on my own. once i’m standing, i make sure to shift my weight to the non-injured leg and take a step. my face scrunches as i feel the soreness in my knee but it’s nothing i haven’t handled before. 

i limp my way over to the shelf and immediately my gaze zeros in on the pretty green book. i run my index finger over the lettering that reads “Mushroom Magick” before gently pulling it off the shelf. the cover has the same phrase with many different kinds of mushrooms decorating a circle around the words. the book feels familiar even though i know i don’t own this one and i flip to a random page. the page has a plethora of notes scrawled in rushed handwriting with highlights on phrases the owner of the book deemed important. i smile to myself reading some of the notes i assume the aforementioned ‘sannie’ left. i continue to flip through and read over the random notes they left before i finally come to a page without any annotations. this is where i assume they left off but i continue to skim through the pages until a presence behind me breaks my focus. i snap my head to see yunho standing a few paces behind me with his hands behind his back. he seems startled by the way i turned but recovers quickly with a polite smile.  

“i’m sorry to disturb you… but i promised seonghwa i’d make sure you were resting and i noticed your shifting. you can bring the book with you to the sofa, you probably shouldn’t be standing on your leg for so long.” yunho explains as he gestures to said sofa. in all honesty, i hadn’t even noticed my shifting so his observation is impressive… but that also means he’d been watching me pretty carefully and the thought makes me a little nervous. i have half the mind to decline his offer but a part of me feels like he’s more persistent than that. with a resigned sigh and nod, i limp back over to the sofa, mushroom book in my hand with my index finger in between the page i’m on to make sure i don’t lose it. i take my seat and he follows suit sitting, with much more grace than i had, on the sofa opposite to me. i notice his lack of entertainment and wonder for a second what he’s going to do while we sit here but decide that’s none of my concern before opening the book back up to the page i was on. 

the room is silent save for the sound of our a clock ticking and the pages of the book in my hands turning. i become quickly engrossed in what i’m reading, so much so i pay no mind to the man in the room with me. though i did look up one time when he got up to go to the desk. and maybe i stared at his figure for much longer than was necessary. it’s not like he noticed, by the time he’d turned back around my nose was in my book. a few more minutes and pages later, he gets back up again. this time he goes to examine a different shelf, one i can’t decipher the contents of from where i’m sat. i watch as he paces before he sighs softly to himself. he must feel my eyes because he swivels to turn to me. i snap my head down and try to refocus on the book but i can see from my periphery, him making his way over to the other sofa. i look up again as he sits and send him a small smile which he returns. i can see he wants to say something so i wait for him to speak before turning away. 

“would you… like a tour of the mansion? i can see you’re enjoying your book so i apologize but… i feel i might lose it being stuck in this room.” his smile is shy as he asks. he tries to look relaxed but the bouncing of his leg is hard to miss. i consider his offer as i stare at the ground, not really able to look any of them in the eye for very long. what i’d seen of their home was absolutely atonisihing and it’s hard for me to even imagine what the rest may look like so out of sheer curiosity (and maybe a small desire to want to be around his calming presence) i nod my agreement. 

his smile widens as he stands, holding his hands behind his back. i close the book, making a mental note of the page i was on in case i come back before placing it down on the cushion beside me. i get to my feet and i see yunho’s arm come from behind his back, probably to offer me support, but then he retracts it just as quickly when he sees me walking fine on my own. i start for the door, listening as yunho falls into step behind me. once we reach the door he side steps around me and reaches for the handle, pushing the door open and letting me step out into the hallway before him. the house is quiet as i look down the long hallways, yunho closing the door behind me before coming up on my right side. he smiles down at me as i look to him for directions and standing this close i can finally see just how tall he is. he gestures down the hallway to our right and turns to start walking, me having to play catch up to keep in time with his long strides. 

“hongjoong, seonghwa, and i designed this entire place ourselves. though most of the detail was seonghwa hyungs’ ideas.” he explains as we keep a leisure pace, allowing me to take in the beautiful architecture and artwork on the walls. we pass by many doors, yunho telling me what lies behind each one as we pass. another smaller study that only a few of them use, a few bedrooms one of which is unoccupied, a library that belongs to someone named ‘yeosang’. the heels of our boots clack against the marbled tile floors and his coat rustles as it fans out behind his long legs in the same way my skirts rustle as i walk. but a beautiful painting stops me in my tracks and yunho slows to a stop alongside me. i reach my hand out to brush over the canvas with barely my fingertips, mouth agape in awe. in the painting a beautiful woman with wings much like the ones on the statue in the foyer sits in the middle of a meadow, in one hand a large pomegranate and the other a skull of an animal. her lips are stained red with the juices of the pomegranate but the way she’s depicted licking it off her teeth as the juice drips off her tongue makes it look like blood. she’s completely nude, skin glowing from the light of the pale moon in the dark, starry sky over her head. a crow sits perched near her feet, picking at the seeds she took out the pomegranate and a cat is curled by her side, sleeping peacefully. her long dark hair flows beautifully down to her thighs, nearly brushing over the sleeping kittens ears. 

it’s completely unlike any painting i’ve seen, the artist putting such detail into the setting and atmosphere of the scene depicted. there’s something serene and intimate about the mood, like your’e peeking in on a moment between this woman and her companions. i turn to look at yunho to see him admiring the painting much like i was just doing. there’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes trace over it before looking over to me.  it’s then that the feeling one of the residents of this home must have painted this themselves presents itself in my thoughts. 

“it took yeosang years to perfect this masterpiece but it’s one of his most prized pieces of work.” yunho confirms my previous suspicions as he brings up this ‘yeosang’ once again. looking back to the painting i can offer no other response but open-mouted awe. yunho chuckles at my expression. “yeosangie would be very flattered by your clear admiration. would you like to see more of his art or the rest of this wing?” he leaves the choice up to me as if it’s an easy decision. i look at him and then down the hall, lips parting to answer but the sound of a door opening pulls both of our attention. yunho turns to face down the hallway ahead of us as a figure steps out the opened door into the hallway with us. from the way he’s positioned, the other person can probably barely see me behind yunho’s giant figure. i try to step to the side to see down the hall but yunho’s arm closest to me moves up very subtly, a silent way of telling me to stay put. 

“yunho? who were you talking to?” a clear, slightly husky voice asks. it sounds like whoever it was has just woken up. 

“ah… no on-” yunho starts to deny my presence for reasons i don’t understand. a pit forms in my gut as anxiety creeps up my spine. why wouldn’t this other man be able to know i was here? i shift my weight to my non-injured leg, biting at my bottom lip nervously. the movement was a mistake because my skirts shift and ripple behind yunho’s legs. the other man’s eye immediately zone in on the movement and i freeze. i see yunho’s shoulders tense as the other man’s gaze slowly trails back up to look his housemate in the eye. then yunho releases a puff of air letting his shoulders drop and he steps to the side ever so slightly. “seonghwa brought her here. she got lost in the forest and hurt herself. i was just showing her around.” yunho explains, sounding defeated. the other man looks me over with his head tilted and cat-like eyes narrowed in suspicion. he’s not as tall as yunho but is broader than him, wide shoulders drawing my attention even from this distance. his jet black hair is ruffled from having just been asleep. he’s clad in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, the most casual dress of any the men i’ve seen thus far. our gazes lock and he seems to be trying to read me as he stares, eyes flitting around my face.

yunho breaks the tense silence by clearing his throat. “y/n, this is san. i think i mentioned him to you earlier in the study. san, this is y/n.” all san does in response is hum, looking away from me back to yunho. 

“does hongjoong know you’re showing her around?” san inquires, brow raised. yunho looks away, scratching the back of neck nervously. ah, that must’ve been why he didn’t want san to see me. but who was this ‘hongjoong’? every time he’s been mentioned, they speak of him in this high regard. “yunho… do you even know how long seonghwa plans on keeping her here? should she really be seeing… everyone?” as he asks the last question, san’s gaze turns to me again. there isn’t as much hardness in his gaze, just apprehension. like he doesn’t trust me. i suppose that would make sense, i am a random stranger in his home. yunho opens his mouth to speak but i cut in before he can get whatever he was going to say out. 

“i don’t plan on being here much longer, i assure you. i appreciate all of seonghwa’s kindness but i have things to attend to back at my own home. he was just offering me shelter for the night since it’s dark and i lost my way. in the morning, i’ll be going back to my cottage.” i answer san’s inquiries with a polite smile. both men turn to me as i speak and san’s eyebrow quirks up again. 

“uh, weren’t you searching for something? san may be able to help you find it!” yunho says, head turning back to the other man who gives him an incredulous look. 

san sighs as he looks back to me, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “what is it you were looking for?” he asks in a bored tone that offends me ever so slightly. what is his issue? 

“you don’t have to help me, i’m perfectly capable of finding it on my own.” i answer with indignation, matching his stance. san’s bored expression breaks as he tries to fight off a smirk.

“if that were the case, would you have gotten yourself lost?” he asks with an irritating self-satified smirk on his lips. my arms drop from my chest as my brows furrow but san pays me no more mind, turning back to his bedroom door. “if you’d like my help, yunho or seonghwa can bring you to me tomorrow morning.” and with that he walks into his room and shuts the door behind himself. yunho and i are left in the silent hallway as irritation stirs in my gut. 

“do you… still want to see the rest?” yunho asks softly as he looks at me. 

i turn to him and smile. “yes, you were saying something about seeing more of the art?”

♰ note :: cliffhanger tehe >:) and we met quite a few members... pls pls leave feedback i want to hear you thoughts!! if you enjoyed consider rbing.

#dividers by cafekitsune #🪐 — works.desire! #ateez fics #ateez au #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #poly ateez x reader #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #polyteez x reader #vampire!ateez x reader #vampire!ateez #i hate tags sfm

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

imperfectionist (vinny hong x jo!reader)

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 1

part 2

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

warnings: fem!reader, gifted!reader, cursing, mentions of blood & violence, mentions/flashbacks to vinny's shitty childhood. jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), physical descriptions (resemblance to jay, jay's mother, heavily implied asian features) intelligent!reader, female rage, implications of academic pressure, middle child problems, second person's pov (you, you're, your), ANGSTY, lowkey self-indulgent, SPOILERS everywhere, includes momma bear vinny but then reader is also kind of a momma bear, reader is NOT yumi, but yumi still exists here. lmk if i forgot anyth

note: i can't stop tossing and turning while reading s4 lol. our vinny pls come back now im bawling my eyes rn

———

None of the recontres you had with Vinny Hong in the entirety of your life was normal.

The first time you encountered him was when you accidentally bumped into him in a vulnerable state while walking home under a light rain shower after a tiring day volunteering at the hospital your parents were working in. The light pouring rain hit your umbrella with soft thuds as you were finding your way through the alley you accidentally passed by after taking an alternative route, but getting a little lost in the process.

You shuddered when you heard a groan. You immediately looked around and kept your guard up in case it was a kidnapper. But no, it sounded like one of pain. Stopping your tracks and pulling over your feet, you looked around the alley. Your eyes expectantly scanned until your eyes found the source of the grumbling noise. There he was, slumped against the wall.

I knew it. you thought.

It was a man. How cliché. His head was bowed down so he couldn't see you. Let me guess, a high school boy was mobbed and injured somewhere and now is left to die in a dark alley to be found lifeless once the sun rises?

You scoffed. If only you had all the time in the world to be a delinquent, that will most likely be where you're meant for. These high school boys are wasting their lives when they unknowingly have the time to choose to be a better person. You discreetly envied how these kinds of people can still choose how they'll live their lives—regardless of presence of sense for separating actions between good and bad.

And so you walked past the alley.

Your steps slowed down as the man groaned again, this time followed by a rustle. A slight pang of guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. Damn it, this wasn't…

You reluctantly looked back to where the man sat. You've always sworn your life you wouldn't meddle in anything that wasn't your business. But for some reason, the guilt of having the ability to help but refusing to, drowned your fixed principle.

Just as you were having an inner banter with yourself, your feet made the decision for you instead and took you to him. You pushed the button on your umbrella to automatically close it, pointing the sharp end to the stranger. You weren't even sure if he's still alive because he suddenly quieted down after that last groan. Only the light from the nearest post gave you an unclear sight of the man and the fluff of his fiery red hair.

One of his hands fell limp on the floor while the other was covering his wound. It seemed like he's been in the same spot for minutes yet the distinct bright colour of fresh blood told you the injury happened not very a while ago. You weren't sure of how to approach him properly, so you lightly kicked his leg once, but he didn't respond. So you kicked him for the second time, this time, harder. Finally, he responded by quietly groaning in pain once again.

“Who… the hell… are you…?” He weakly questioned as looked up to squint and take in your face, but your figure was against the light from the lamp post, so your silhouette was the only thing he's capable of registering. Even when in pain, his voice still sounded atrocious. Like he's someone used to speaking to people harshly. Luckily, you weren't intimidated for a single bit. It'll take a lot more than harsh tones to drive you away. You've been there.

You fumbled inside your tote bag to search for your phone, “Who are you to ask?” When you got ahold of your phone, you turned the flashlight on and you got a clearer view of the blood oozing out of this stranger's side, staining his hand in the process. It looked like a stab wound, judging from the volume of the blood oozing out from the wound.

“As expected.” You raised your hand to point the sharp end of your umbrella to him once again. “I will help you. But if you attempt to do anything funny, I'll stab you on your other side, too.”

Your first option as was to call immediate professional help. As you tried to dial the hospital hotline to call an ambulance, your phone kept indicating there was no service. The signal's jammed. You almost threw your phone to the nearest wall out of frustration as you hit the side of it with your palm. You side-eyed the man behind you.

Shit. Now what? This kind of stab wound is fatal, especially because he already lost plenty of blood beforehand. It wouldn't bleed that much if the penetration wasn't deep. It might have even hit a vital spot. Calling for help now will be difficult because of this deserted alley and the continuous pour of the rain didn't help either, plus, your phone has no service.

“..I don't need… your help...!” he glared at your silhouette and cursed himself as he shut his eyes tightly while attempting to sit upright, enduring the excruciating pain on his side.

“You're quite obnoxious for a dying man.” You looked around to search for more resources. This is a closed alley. If you leave him here for another minute to find help, he might completely lose his consciousness, he was already limp in the first place. You were left with no choice. Your hand hesitantly reached to fumble around your bag once again until you got an OS, gauze pads and sterilized medical stitching needles.

Your mother would be furious if ever she finds out you stitched a stranger's wounds. You can only imagine her yelling, “Patients are not your playthings and the Medical field is not your playground! Who are you to perform Medical procedures? You're not even a Doctor yet!” Yeah, for sure Dra. Jo wouldn't be so pleased to find out her daughter's attempt to fix someone up. You kneeled and looked at the stranger. You needed to gain his trust as professionally as possible.

“I won't ask your name since you're clearly hard to talk to. I'm [Y/N]. I'm no Guardian angel of yours. I do light voluntary work in hospitals and I have current trainings on how to attend to emergency patients. But I'm still a high school student so I'm not yet licensed. Anyway, going to a hospital will always be the safest option, but I have knowledge about stitching wounds, at least. I'm going to temporarily stitch you up so you don't lose more blood, then we'll get you to a hospital once I find phone service.”

You surveyed his overall state, he looked very pale, although it's easy to tell that he's naturally pale, by losing a lot of blood, he's getting even paler each passing second. You were running out of time.

“Do you consent to this?” You asked him calmly through your glasses.

He breathed out heavily. You knew he was wary and reluctant. Which is understandable. But if it's not you, who else will do it? You heaved a sympathetic sigh. As you unemotionally tell him about the circumstances of his skepticality, that you well acknowledge.

“Hey, you might have a family member waiting for you at home. They would be devastated to just hear from the news that you were found dispatched and lifeless out here in the morning.” you looked around, left and right. “I won't force your consent out. I haven't touched you anywhere yet and I wouldn't if you don't want me to, so I can just leave you here, without me being a potential suspect of your murder. But you should probably think about the ones that didn't know their last sight of you alive was the last they'll get, ever.”

He looks at you for a few seconds while he grits his teeth, before he slowly, lightly nods. Shutting his eyes and removing his hand from covering the wound, implying that he had put his trust in you.

You checked his carotid pulse first. Just as you thought. Erratic and weakened. And then looked over to watch the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders. Shallow breathing. He definitely lost a high volume of blood already. You hastily started disinfecting everything—your hands, the tools, even the gloves. You checked his expression. You gave him a heads-up before lifting the side of his shirt to attend to the wound properly. You began working up and stitching the wound on his right side. You looked at his face once again that's being covered by the shade of the unfinished constructions caging the alley, while going through your first stitch.

“I'm sorry, this is the only option, for now. I'll find more professional help after this.”

He had no more energy left to open his mouth and reply. He grunts in pain while you were busy ushing the needle through-and-through. You asked him to bite down on a cloth while enduring the pain, since you didn't have anesthesia and he can feel every poke of the needle on his skin. You stitched him with precision with your skilled hands. Your hands were painted crimson red during the process.

This wasn't your first time stitching. You've done this a couple of times—but only to a simulator. You pulled yourself together as you kept in mind that a person's life is in your hands this time.

While you were focusing on the stitches, all the stranger can muster are croaky groans, as the pain of the wound and the stitches stung, so you tried to do it faster. When you were done, while wiping your blood-stained hands, you noticed how his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was wincing in pain. He tried to look up at you again, but his sight of you was blurry.

“Don't worry, that'll be removed at once when you're taken to the hospital. What I did is only first aid, and you already lost a lot of blood so we still need to get you to the hospital as soon as possible.”

You pushed your knees to stand up and find phone signal, but before you can, his hand rose and reached for yours.

“No.” He clutched your hand to stop you. His hand was rough—and also large. You have large hands for a female, but his hand almost completely enveloped yours.

The side of your lips shifted downward while looking down at him. “You must really want to die.”

He gripped your hand tightly from the severe pain he's enduring. You know how much pain he's going through right now and he didn't mean to do so, so you let him squeeze your hand.

“I would rather die… than pay a hospital bill.” he weakly held on to you, falling completely unconscious. His head fell on your lap. You furrowed your brows and put his head into a more comfortable position.

Oh, so he was serious on dying?

You coming to his rescue definitely doesn't just end with a few stitches.

***

please bear with me, you guys. i wrote this way past my bedtime before a 7am class so it's yet still unedited lol ! always remember to put seeking professional help as top priority if you ever encounter this kinda scenario irl

#windbreaker #vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #vinnyxreader #jay jo x reader #windbreaker x reader #vinny x reader #yoobinhong #dom kang #shelly #manhwaimagines #manhwa #manga #imagines #wind breaker #minu #jay jo #vinny

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

[ Previous Chapter ] [ Series Masterlist ] [ Next Chapter ]

— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes. 

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal. 

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his. 

But this morning is different. 

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name. 

It echoes back to him. 

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears. 

How can nothing be so loud? 

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed,  he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips. 

The gears in his brain start to turn. 

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone. 

Understanding twists his guts bowtie. 

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house. 

He finds nothing. 

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin. 

He goes outside. 

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street. 

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo. 

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real. 

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase? 

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice. 

I love you with everything I am. 

Until the next life, 

Lua 

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too. 

—

The words don’t compute at first. 

He shakes his head and reads it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick. 

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right. 

This can’t be happening. 

He needs to talk to you right fucking now. 

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you. 

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play. 

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces. 

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.” 

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone. 

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss. 

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you. 

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way. 

This time he gets nothing. 

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean? 

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and— 

Your phone jumps to life. 

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker. 

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?” 

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?” 

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…” 

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards. 

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.” 

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?” 

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.” 

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information. 

Parker continues. 

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips. 

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.” 

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor. 

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go. 

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?” 

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.” 

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor. 

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.” 

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene. 

It takes him three seconds to find it. 

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark” 

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues: 

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges. 

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges. 

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture: 

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.” 

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment. 

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer. 

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds. 

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!” 

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up. 

The second person he calls is his lawyer. 

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?” 

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.” 

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?” 

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.” 

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.” 

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?” 

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.” 

“I see.” 

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.” 

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks: 

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.” 

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen. 

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues. 

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat. 

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.” 

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.” 

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.” 

The nausea returns. 

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.” 

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs. 

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy. 

But for once, he feels completely sane. 

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.” 

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.” 

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass. 

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same. 

“How’s she doing?” 

His stomach twists. 

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her. 

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat. 

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp. 

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.” 

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?” 

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds. 

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.” 

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you. 

He speaks it out loud. 

“She’s in the fucking woods now.” 

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones. 

Darlene stays quiet. 

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?” 

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.” 

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name. 

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?” 

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.” 

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.” 

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?” 

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.” 

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.” 

He huffs and takes a drink. 

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim. 

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.” 

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity. 

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?” 

“Not… necessarily.” 

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?” 

“Doubt it.” 

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.” 

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.” 

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?” 

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.” 

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her. 

“Zero two one four eight eight.” 

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then. 

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so. 

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear. 

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?” 

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?” 

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.” 

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok. 

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack. 

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.” 

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?” 

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.” 

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.” 

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.” 

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.” 

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him. 

Seconds twist under his skin. 

The minutes lodge inside his throat. 

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop. 

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed. 

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka. 

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially. 

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting. 

This time it’s different. 

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you. 

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless. 

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

A burden. 

What a load of shit. 

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere. 

Of fucking course he would choose you. 

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second. 

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all. 

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started. 

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death. 

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks. 

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?” 

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?” 

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt. 

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den. 

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display. 

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia. 

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.” 

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?” 

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly. 

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear. 

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink. 

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.” 

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA. 

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?” 

“No.” 

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” 

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him. 

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.” 

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.” 

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?” 

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” 

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.” 

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip. 

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.” 

“Can I pick out your hair?” 

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.” 

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.” 

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist. 

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character. 

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream. 

Thank fucking god. 

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor. 

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster. 

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass. 

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding. 

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something. 

Seriously. 

He has no jurisdiction here. 

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle. 

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore? 

Eating. This. Shit. Up. 

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby. 

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave. 

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations. 

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here. 

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame. 

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?” 

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.” 

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light. 

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo. 

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects. 

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.” 

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.” 

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition. 

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit. 

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare. 

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side. 

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.” 

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.” 

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?” 

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.” 

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…” 

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word. 

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?” 

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.” 

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.” 

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck. 

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.” 

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?” 

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.” 

“I am not that drunk.” 

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.” 

“Sorry to interrupt.” 

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo. 

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.” 

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?” 

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.” 

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar. 

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes. 

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble. 

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?” 

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”  

“You guys do this often?” 

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.” 

“Cute,” Dieter mutters. 

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?” 

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.” 

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day. 

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train. 

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out. 

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse. 

Wouldn’t it make you feel better? 

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him. 

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman. 

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar. 

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken. 

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon. 

There’s something else, though. 

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles. 

Anika and Dieter. 

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York. 

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while. 

But it would have faded. 

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you. 

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star. 

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is. 

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation. 

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore. 

—

Sometimes things go sideways. 

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony. 

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged. 

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table. 

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend. 

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband. 

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever. 

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.” 

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission. 

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?” 

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.” 

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.” 

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him. 

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention. 

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave. 

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence. 

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning. 

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens. 

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing. 

You are fucking everywhere. 

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales. 

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind? 

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself. 

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline. 

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part. 

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet. 

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval. 

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances. 

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one. 

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life. 

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger. 

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence. 

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?” 

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head. 

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.” 

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.” 

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.” 

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?” 

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.” 

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him. 

He releases a big sigh. 

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles. 

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?” 

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.” 

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.” 

“Got it.” 

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door. 

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door. 

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.” 

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?” 

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running. 

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt. 

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs. 

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.” 

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[azuryuu]

yuu h. in my ramshackle dorm leader uniform fan-design (+ without cloak)

as usual, click on the image for a higher quality

i decided to try my hand at designing a uniform for the ramshackle dorm ! personally very happy with how it turned out:)

non-dorm leader variant of the ramshackle uniform feat. kat (@kit-ken / @clovers-n-roses's yuu):

also- if you'd like to, feel free to draw your yuu in this ramshackle uniform:) i'd be very flattered if you do:) just credit me for the original design also pls tag me i'd like to see uwaaaa

character design notes are under the cut as well for those interested:)

date: 17/08/23

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

general notes

same top hat and cloak as the ghosts - the cloak has ripped and frayed hem for that "ramshackle" look

dark makeup around eyes and on lips to have that sunken eyes ghost look: black eyeshadow and optional blue highlights around eyes + black/dark blue lipstick

white dress shirt + pants + shoes to emulate the white bedsheet ghosts of ramshackle

ruffles at the hem and back of the dress shirt are long and flowy to emulate the ghost tail so the students have a similar silhouette to the ghosts

shared design between dorm leader and dorm member

dark blue top hat

dress shirt all have the same collar and ruffles by the throat

black sleeve garter on both arms

buttons have ruffles only to the right (my right, their left)

dress shirt opens midway into an upside down V-shape

white dress pants with blue waistbands + the inside of the pockets are dark blue with lighter blue stripes + pocket stitching in dark blue x-shape

shoes are all primarily white with black and gold accents + golden buttons on the outside-side

unique to dorm leader

sleeves are actually shorter but with more elaborate ruffles: no cuff + ends at around midway on the forearm and flares into frills - two layers of ruffles

dress shirt hem flows into ruffles which covers the pants pockets and extends all the way to the back -> the frilled hems also have 2 layers -> the 2nd layer of ruffles (under) split into 2 "ghost tails"

pant legs are tucked inside the boots

boots that extend mid-lower leg, layered with white pleats with golden accents + 6 buttons on the outside + black body + golden sole + black strap with golden accent that goes under the shoe

customisation ideas for dorm members

same top hat + ruffles around the throat + collar as dorm leader

possible customisation for the cloak -> for kat, same cloak as yuu h. -> potential cloak idea: cape that splits halfway in the middle in an upside down V-shape for extra flowiness

dress shirt has frills but not as ornate as dorm leader

sleeves have frills but not as distinctive -> for kat, long cuff with 4 buttons, and ends with short pleats. -> potential sleeve idea would be like epel's school uniform

dress shirt hem opens like dorm leader but no ruffles in the front so pants pocket details are visible

dress shirt has long flowy ruffles for the "ghost tail" at the back only -> only 1 "tail" -> only 1 layer -> shape of actual ruffles is highly customisable, can be anything as long as it's long enough -> for kat, the "tail" slopes to one side, short on the left (my left, their right) and becomes long on the right -> potential "tail" idea: can be uniform/symmetrical

pant legs can be tucked into the shoe or not, depending on the shoe itself n personal choice -> for kat, pants are not tucked in -> pants hem can be flared into additional ruffles if so desired

choices for shoes is open to most styles as long as the colours and layered appearance remains more or less the same -> for kat, ankle boots with the same colour and pleating as yuu -> potential shoes idea: can be dress shoes, taller boots, school shoes, etc...

#falsely draws #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst yuu #twst oc #twst mc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland mc #-; yuu stranger lore #-; my art

[spacingoutforever]

PLOT THEORY FOR S2 - Fallout

**MANY FALLOUT SPOILERS AHEAD - read at your own risk**

i have this weird theory that the juxtaposition we see between Cooper's outwardly grim appearance vs his morals being intact, and then Max's outwardly normal appearance vs his morally neutral choices, might be a way of telling us more about looks being deceiving for future developments.

hear me out.

Max is knocked out as soon as he finds out about Shady Sands, but he was definitely intending to do some damage, revenge had its hooks in him from the beginning. it was always there, whether it be to regain the honor the Brotherhood took away from him, then evolving into being part of the trio that was now after Hank. the man who robbed him of his home, family and hope for the future.

i saw a video essay discussing the moral choices of Lucy and Cooper's characters and i really liked the criteria they created for measuring it - ill link it below.

she says there's 2 main parts:

1. loss of control

2. being unrecognizable after enduring hardship

whether you agree with this criteria or think there's more to be added, i like how simple of a base it provides, when approaching these complex characters.

so if we then apply this to Max, he is the only member of our main cast who exhibits both points.

1. loss of control:

this is distinct to me in the Philly shoot-up, where he isn't able to control the T-60 power armor enough to put up a fair fight against The Ghoul. literally crash-lands it and then gets flung into the atmosphere LIKE PLS

he mistakenly attacks the people of Vault 4, once again losing control of his power.

the chicken-guy .... trying to derail that argument but saving the wrong person ><

Note: it's FASCINATING if you look at his character metaphorically, because the power armor is someone having the means for good but not having the understanding of what true 'good' means to them, yet. the power armor is LITERALLY his OUTWARD POWER like who is he really, underneath it??!!!!

we don't have this problem with Cooper and Lucy right now, their power is shown to be INWARD. the Ghoul's experience/connection to the beginning, and hers is her obvious moral strength and perseverance. they overlap.

i feel that his character is supposed to lean into the apprentice archetype, where he is currently lacking a proper teacher to show him the ropes. at first we expected Lucy to fit this role because of her inexperience on the surface, and yet when given a 'mentor' she not only challenges him but proves she can handle herself. ruling that one out, and leading us to believe the fate-intertwined aspect of ghoulcy has a touch more to it. implicit rather than explicit.

2. being unrecognizable after enduring hardship

Max to me fits this point too, because we still don't get a glimpse into who he truly is, besides knowing his past. from the beginning, his goal is to be a Knight of the Brotherhood, that's how he defines himself currently.

when he fights off the gulper, he reiterates this line to himself: "i am a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel".

he says it AGAIN in response to Lucy's advances in the vault. which is a clue into how much he relies on it for his moral code, to the point where it crosses into his personal decisions. not just for 'missions' or survival.

this is like foreshadowing a tipping point for me, because without the Brotherhood, what does he want? he's acting in alignment of the code that was pushed on him, but it always feels like he has to remind himself to BE that.

that it doesn't come naturally, the way the other characters' do. we see this at the start where he gets the answer wrong in class, he's bullied, an 'outcast' within his own community (for lack of a better term).

by comparison, the Ghoul isn't even a real 'outcast' in the way cowboys are stereotypically portrayed, because he fits in the wasteland better than anyone.

so point 2. becomes relevant when he gets the armor and is unrecognizable from where he started. this is a point he never thought he'd get to, but he sacrifices his real identity to get there.

SO ALL THIS TO SAYYYY...... that's where i feel his character will be vulnerable to a villain-arc!

in the ending, he gets accepted as a Knight, but his expression betrays him. there is a continuous inner conflict within Maximus that is SO SUBTLE and its written so beautifully. i think we're going to see ghoulcy pushing each other in the right direction. their shared journey seems to be about regaining HOPE.

but for Max, i feel in my bones that something darker is coming for his arc, it feels like revenge. the goofy, lovable boy in the clunky armor, may very well end up having the darkest battle to face. and it's because he's alone in doing it.

this was a lot to digest, so if you made it this far i thank you from the bottom of my heart!!!!!!!

AND if you have anything to add i would love to hear it :) !!!!

#fallout prime #the ghoul #ghoulcy #cooper howard #lucy maclean #maximus #fallout theory #spoilers #fallout spoilers #vaultghoul #Youtube

[gwaaaaar]

breaking my silence...

whoever told me the second half of death note was trash... YOURE WRONG YOURE WRONG YOURE WRONGGGGGG 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣 MELLO AND NEAR ARE WORTHY SUCCESSORS TO L YOURE JUST A STAN!!!!

near... sweet jesus baby they didnt deserve you !!! I was so pleasantly surprised to see how distinct he was despite people calling him "white haired L". LIKE hes a lot more cautious than L but isn't above being a sarcastic little shit and actively causing problems... i read a fan translation and he uses a lot of cuss words to refer to certain people he dislikes. I dont know if thats in the official translation as well but i do like the visual of this 7 yo saying "asshole" and "dickhead". I know hes 17-18 and this is average teenage behavior but gah hes so cute and moe and make little "vrooooom" noises when playing with his toys... 🥺 cant help but stan. Hes in his zone unbothered...

AND THE FACT HE CHALLENGES LIGHT IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE SO BLATANTLY... no mind games no time for light to make his next move just fuck it we ball. Also very fond of the scene where he drops hundred dollar bills off the SPK building. He's unpredictable just like Mello is but in a different way and its fascinating i love this guy. Also enjoy the fact that his flavor of justice is that he doesnt really have one hes just doing his job. The verbal beatdown he does at the end about how lights just a crazy serial killer... GET HIS ASS NEAR !!! Hes not pretentious and its just... its just good you know? L wasn't very pretentious but he does call himself justice sometimes and stuff along the like(?) Near drops all pretense... cant help but stan

Also really fond that he actually likes mello its just mello doesnt like him... I know canon never explicitly states their relationship with each other, like if its a brotherly relationship or not (altho isnt there some cain and abel parallels??? Not sure). But i really do see a siblinglike relationship between the two. Canon doesnt really put any angst on their relationship bc near doesnt care lolol, but the two do remind me of certain siblings that have a strained relationship because of the pressure put on one of them (or on both. Again fuck wammys house all my homies hate wammys AND WATARI!!! ME WHEN I GET YOU!!!) I really would love to see the two interact... and maybe just be happy by each other/pl. Because god it really terrible to see how much mello hates near and its not even nears fault :,). AND FUCK THE CHOCOLATE BAR HE EATS AT THE END TO HONOR MELLO???? STOPPPP IM GONNA CRY... near the man that you are... they dont deserve you baby...

And smello... mello mello mello... I've heard more positive things about him compared to near bc hes more "interesting" and i can see why people take that angle BUT. God they still undersell him so much??? I feel like hes one of the few characters to have a goal besides catching Kira (or not getting caught) because of his inferiority complex. I do not mean to undersell any of the other characters when i say this because theyre all very complex! They all have their driving goals and the like. Its just that i argue that Mello's is more persistent and that it is not centered around the conflict but rather himself. Even if he caught Kira perhaps he would still never be happy with himself because Near is always "going to be better" because of the shit he went through in wammys. Theres a whole discussion to be had abt the ethics of wammys house... but ill save that for another post wwww.

Mello is also someone that isnt pretentious about his idea of justice bc hes a fucking criminal. (BTW i love the two opposing sides of the successors... one that tries falling within the law but still doesnt give a shit and the other that doesnt give any shits at all and eventually helps the law.) And its so... I LOVE YOU RUTHLESS CHARACTERS I LOVE YOU CHARACTERS THAT STOP AT NOTHING TO GET WHAT THEY WANT.

And the thing is ... Mello does have his own sense of justice because its not as if he sacrifices innocent bystanders to get what he wants he just does what is necessary. LIKE ofc its fucked up that he kidnapped sayu (and traumatized her...), takada (and the stripping... but at least she got a blanket:,) honestly tho id blame that on the misogyny of the authors) and the director of the police im not about to be a mello apologist (yes i am/j). But a. He probably knew no one was going to get hurt in the first place because hes just that damn confident. b. His remorse for matt and soichiros deaths show that he doesnt intend on sacrificing anyone and when things go astray it saddens him a little. And c. THE FACT HE PROBABLY KNEW HE WAS GONNA DIE AND STILL SACRIFICED HIMSELF TO HELP NEAR... near would "win" but mello prioritized putting kira behind bars and while i cant guess his motive, from my end it does seem like in extension he prioritized doing the right thing, which would be to sacrifice his life and pride to help near get the final piece to catch mikami... wow what a man im so deathly ill

After typing all this, i must say... is L really as complex as years of DN fans have said?? I think im about to get crucified for this opinion, but legitimately is he??? I think he is complex most certainly just... maybe not as much as others have said... i might just be missing details about his past + lore from external media so maybe thats why i have this opinion. But i feel like the successors *are* toe to toe with him despite their split screen time... idk tho :3 this is just my thoughts meow

#death note #death note mello #death note near #l lawliet #Mello #Near #mihael keehl #nate river #Feel free to beat me with hammers in the comments meow

[dani-dance]

Which soda would each just dancer's go to be?

My opinion just based on vibes. Also pls note that I'm Dutch so I'll be basing it off of sodas I've had.

Night Dancers version

Jack Rose: the start of this whole thing. Royal Club Rose Lemonade. For obvious reasons and also because every time I see it it always has 0% sugar and I feel like Night Swan would be strict about his sugar intake, and he'd just bring that over into adulthood. It also just makes you feel very fancy when drinking it. It doesn’t really look like it does in this image, honestly, it’s way more see-through, like sparkly water with a noticeable pink tint.

Mihaly: Rivella. I can't explain why because it's such a distinct taste that can't really be compared to anything. It's sharp yet refreshing, a little bit floral or herbal but not overpoweringly so? You'd only notice it if you were really paying attention to it. Someone on Reddit describes it as 'somewhere between a ginger ale and bubble tea'. Alternatively: any flavour of Crystal Clear or Fuze Tea.

Sara: This is fully based on vibes but Cherry Cola. 'Basic' choice but with a little twist! Also I'm pretty sure her hair ribbons have cherries on them so like. I guess that could also be related to it?

Brezziana: A tie between Fanta Lemon and Orangina! Both just based on vibes, honestly, can't explain it very well. Orangina is sweeter, Fanta Lemon is more sour, I feel like she'd somewhat alternate them based on mood and weather.

Wanderlust: Wanderlust gets Sprite. Again as I said in the beginning, just vibes no specific reasons for most of these.

#dani speaks #just dance #jd #jd mihaly #jd wanderlust #jd jack rose #jd sara #jd brezziana

[mooncheese3]

au wherein in a bid to further unite the sect, yqy sets up boards that are kind of like padlet, where everyone can put a random thought on the board, and everyone can chip in their own thoughts, etc etc

at first the notes were all formal— disciples requesting for things to be sent to their peak, comments about broken fences that needed to be fixed, reminders— but then gradually it became this free-for-all place for everyone to air out their grievances and/or gushings

this is when the xian shu girls take over

by this point the board is half full of ramblings about romance and tension between seemingly random people

and then someone starts talking about the peak lords

in the beginning it was a harmless little

"peak lord shang is a very good shizun :)"

but, kids being kids, someone started to get really competative.

"ACTUALLY our bai zhan war god is a way better shizun"

"liu shibo? No Offense but what does he Actually teach you--being a reckless monkey who cant go a day without breaking something? ',://"

"YOU QINGJING RAT COWARDS ARE NOT SUBTLE AT LEAST MY SHIZUN ISNT A JERK"

the one who wrote the third one wasnt Actually a qingjing disciple. theyre more creative with their insults than that; shizun would be dissapointed. it was an anding kid who was sick and tired of rebuilding and restocking baizhan all the time. they werent gonna admit it tho, thatd be dumb

(un)luckily, the fight is flawlessly curbed when someone writes

"ੈ✩‧₊˚Whenever shen shibo and liu shibo fight, it kind of reminds me of my grandpa and grandma LOLੈ✩‧₊˚"

"Waht are you implying, anonymous bro?"

"✧.*All im saying is that maybe theyre not /just/ enemies, if yk what i mean :3 ✧.*"

"What"

"Enlightened shimei/shidi above, do remember that baizhan train in the body, not the mind. 🤧"

"Wtah."

anyway it gets so bad the peak lords had to bring it up at a pl meeting

ALSO AU OF THIS AU WHEREIN THE BOARD HAPPENS DURING LIUJIU’S DISCIPLE TIME

lqg gets the “im gay?” realization bc of the board. specifically he gets the “im gay for sqq?” realization. so ofc he goes to his sister lmy for help (she is three years old). from her baby talk, he gets “practice your confession ge !!” (“prac ifff copesion? ge :D”), so he does just that. but he realizes early on that hes REALLY bad at this romance talking thing, so with great reluctance asks TheBoard for help—anonymously, duh.

“How Do I Confess To Someone.”

what lqg doesnt realize is that his handwriting is very distinct. Bold, Strong, and Harsh characters, with the downwards strokes narrowing from a wide start to a thin point as sharp as cheng luan? yep. thats head disciple liu right there.

“GODS ABOVE HELP US ITS HAPPENING ITS REALLY HAPPENING !!!! ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶”

“?”

“What shidi/shimei means is that you should properly organize your thoughts first. Truly think about what you want to say; be honest!🙌”

“Anything More?”

“༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ yes. one moment, me and my shimeis are making a list for disciple to use ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧”

it snowballs from there. in the end the liujiu confession happens in public (how mortifying! -sqq, in his head after), and a full transcript is posted on the board later in the day. theres also life-like drawings of the confrontation, kind of like a courtroom sketch

#liujiu #liujiu start to feel awkward and avoid each other as much as possible #so ofc The Board TM started kicking up a fuss over how meddling in peoples business can ruin things #basically its a xianxia tw1tter LOL #dw they do end up courting and its a happy ending #thoughts #original shen qingqiu #shen jiu #liu qingge

[zonnemaagd]

Where the Sea Ends | Leikenbomen

Here lies Ikuzand the Mage, Hero of the Lower Lands.

A funeral in Feendal is a joyful occasion. It is said tears would draw the dead back to our world to comfort us, causing their souls to become trapped between worlds and linger there for eternity. As such it's required to be a night where beer flows without limit, and no story is too queer to be told as long as it creates laughter and joy.

But duinnimfen, what other stories may confuse for elves, have a much different way to honour their dead. Since their bodies are interlinked with zeide, the magical energy that is contained in all natural things, they will always return to our world in the form of that energy.

To commemorate this process a duinnimf is buried on top of a taafelberch 'table mountain' which are commonly used for Sun worshiping (Note that the people of Feendal do not have a distinction between the concept of hill or mountain). They are placed into a grave naked under the cover of a thin layer of leaves from their birth-tree. A young branch from their birth tree is then planted on top of this grave, and the oaken twig that all mages carry is cut into it, giving it a base to grow from. As the tree grows its roots will slowly wrap around the body, connecting them to both the earth and the heavens.

If you pass a hill with a singular oaken tree on top, it is likely to be the resting place of a duinnimf. If you wish to inspect such a tree up close be warned, for nothing but ill fortune has come to those that harm a leikenboom.

PRONUNCIATION : sg. [lɛɪkənboʊm], pl. [lɛɪkənboʊmə] ETYMOLOGY : from lijk 'corpse' and eikenboom 'oaken tree' REFERENCED IN : Where the sea ends, Chapter 1

This post is the first in a series that will highlight certain aspects of worldbuilding from my fantasy project Where the sea ends. Let me know if you'd like to be put on the taglist!

#fantasy #worldbuilding #fiction #writeblr #nederlands #nederlandse fantasy #wtse

[appocalipse]

omg Idk if ur still doing this but RAIN; Being convinced to dance in the rain, no matter how far away their home is.  with STEVE I would literally die

yes, i'm still doing this ♥ also pls don't die, here's a kiss 💋

[RAIN; Being convinced to dance in the rain, no matter how far away their home is.]

"Oh shit," you say when the first icy drop of water touches your skin. The rain is no more than a threat now, a drop here and there, but the promise of what comes next is what worries you. You and Steve are far enough away from your place — going for a late-night walk was far from your wisest idea.

"Let's run back," you suggest, taking Steve's hand without thinking too much about it.

Officially, Steve is your friend. But half of the thoughts you have whenever he's around aren't exactly friendly — there were a lot of almost-kisses, accidental touches, whispers in the dark, and you two had long crossed the safe ground of friendship towards more dangerous territory. But he's also hard to decipher, despite everyone else thinking otherwise, thinking that he's an open book. Being in love with him still feels a bit risky to you — you're still not entirely convinced that he's over Nancy Wheeler, so you've kept your distance.

You start to run, but Steve doesn't move, gripping your hand tightly. You're barely a step away from him, your arm stretched out between your bodies.

He smiles as if he knows a secret that you don't and asks, "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

A delicate tug is all it takes to bring you a little closer, just enough for the tips of your shoes to almost touch his.

"Cindy Lauper," Steve whispers confidentially. And indeed, the distinct notes of Time After Time can be heard in the distance, muffled by the rain that gradually intensifies but still easy enough to understand. Someone must be having a party or something.

Steve holds up your joined hands and encourages you to spin around, not quite in time with the music but a good attempt. You giggle like a child and he wants to hear that sound again, so he spins you around once more before pulling you flush against his chest. It works; you do giggle more. Then you lift your chin and look into his eyes as if realizing how close you are, how big of a step this might be. Steve wants to kiss you so bad it almost hurts.

But he was the one who started this. He can't stop now.

You barely notice the heavy rain as his hand moves to the small of your back, subtly pressing your body into his. Steve feels you shiver and doesn't think it has anything to do with the cold.

Moving to the music, he takes you with him, and you can do little more than laugh at the silliness of it all, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Steve," you murmur, as if to say you're so silly.

I love you is what you really mean.

Steve has his own form of non-verbal communication that he desperately wants you to decipher. He leans his head down and presses his cheek to your temple, hands on your waist. "Your hair smells nice," he whispers.

You chuckle, bringing a hand to the back of his neck.

"What are we doing?" you're very close, his hand is very firm on your waist; this dance is clearly a step outside the friendship zone, that much is obvious.

"Dancing," Steve replies stubbornly. His smile makes ignoring the rain all too easy. He spins you around and gets the reaction he wants — a lovely giggle, a genuine sparkle in your eyes.

Then Steve pulls you back to him, so close the tip of your nose almost touches his when you look up. He moves barely a few inches, Cindy Lauper sings her last few lines, and he prays that someone will put the song back on again, that you won't notice it's over.

Steve lets the side of his nose touch yours and leans in slightly as you do the same, lips parted mirroring his own. He breathes and you breathe and the tiny space between your faces feels like a thousand possibilities-

Then the sky splits in two — or so it seems when thunder cuts through the darkness, sounding like a damn bomb, a crack so loud it seems to come from directly above your heads, causing the two of you to stumble away from each other immediately.

Spell broken, Steve licks his lips and tries not to show how hard it is to breathe now. He takes your hand again and starts running towards your house, your sweet laughter filling his ears.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things drabble #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb

[bucknastysbabe]

Little blurb sitting in my notes for too long— 18+ I can’t really stop you minors but PLS DONT😐I’m awkward and sweaty goodbye

You sat in your boyfriends lap, pushing his strands of thick chocolate hair behind his ear. He gazed at you, face lax and his body pliant. Bucky’s hands rested on your hips, methodically kneading the soft flesh. You held your intense arousal to yourself, not wanting to hit Bucky with the strong emotions.

Bucky mumbled, “S’okay baby.”

He rubbed his hands up in a soothing motion. Your eyes flicked down to his pink pout, slightly wet from your earlier kissing. You stated vaguely, “It’s a lot. I don’t know how it’ll affect you.” Glancing away you tightened your hands on his broad shoulders— tethering you to the present. Buck always kept you grounded. You whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you bear. I don’t know how to use- uh- this for good.”

You felt emotions constricting your throat. Bucky had mentioned you letting your guard on your projection powers down for certain situations. Especially sex, as you were learning emotional intimacy. He had his own obstacles and the pair of you had made some ground, but you’d always held up this final wall. Bucky interrupted your thoughts with soft kisses to the column of your throat. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

He rasped, “I want all of you sweetheart. I trust you.”

A vibranium hand caressed your cheek, turning your attention back to his darkened blues. The action itself reminded you of how much you two had come along. Lust was already pouring off of him in waves, making your cunt clench in need. Bucky cooed with a smile, “I’m all yours— even this scrambled mess of a brain.” You took a deep breath, tucking your face into the crook of his pale neck. Inhaling Bucky’s distinct scent you relaxed, blinking slowly. You sighed, “Okay. I’m going to do it. Just don’t fight the feeling babe.”

The soldier nodded, biting his plump lower lip in anticipation.

You let your walls down, flooding Bucky with your love and arousal along with some extra projection of lust. You watched as his pupils expanded, turning the blue into thin rings. Bucky flushed underneath you, his body reacting intensely to the emotions. Still, his body remained lax. His mouth was agape, a tiny whimper escaping. You softly spoke to your boyfriend, trying to reach through the inevitable cotton of his thoughts.

“Baby, nod if you’re alright. I need you with me, ‘kay?”

He dazedly nodded, hands running down to your thighs and squeezing. His gaze turned to the flesh between his fingers, watching as if he was seeing a miracle. You pulled at Bucky’s hair to return his gaze. A sad whine left his lips but he obeyed. You stated, “Do you want me to take off your clothes baby?”

A happier whine filled the room.

He eagerly tried to shuck off his shirt, but you shook your head and took over. Then sliding off his lap— which Bucky protested before you reminded him of the task at hand— you unbuckled and unbuttoned him. He obediently lifted up his hips as you dragged off his jeans and briefs. Bucky downright mewled as his cock got caught on the fabric. You pressed your lips to his strong thighs, rubbing his hips in an attempt to soothe the soldier.

“C’mere— oh, please,“ he whimpered.

You smiled at his simper and straddled the super-soldier’s thick thighs. Bucky’s head fell back as you were seated against his weeping cock, a helpless groan tearing from his throat. You cooed, “Think you can take off my clothes sweetheart? My sweet boy.” You scritched at Bucky’s scalp with your nails, the other practically purring. You let out a ‘hm?’ to redirect his gaze which had strayed back to his hands on your thighs.

“Yesss,” Bucky slurred.

He ushered off your loose shorts, whining at the sight of your pussy. Then came your shirt, accompanied by another punched out noise from the sight of your breasts. You guided Bucky’s big hands to your bra’s clasp, the male undoing it with a bit of fumbling. Bucky latched onto your peaked nipple as soon as your bra fell down. He moaned eagerly as he sucked and licked at the bud. You jolted in shock, yelping sharply at the sensation.

“Oh my, my boy is so eager,” you gasped.

Bucky suckled harder, his hands pawing at your breasts like a needy kitten. He made aborted little thrusts against you as he whined around a bud. You gripped at the nape of Bucky’s neck, shivering as he popped off to move to your other nipple. You felt yourself slick up further and pulled Bucky’s head away from your tits. He let out a pained groan of, “Why?” You responded, “My sweet boy wants to fuck me right?”

Bucky mewled a drawn out please, now gripping at your ass to pull your cunt along his shaft. You shuddered slightly, scratching down Bucky’s built chest at the sensation. Your slick guided the way as he rutted against you, the head of his cock stimulating your clit. Helplessly you nibbled at Bucky’s neck, laving your tongue around his jugular pumping hotly with blood. You groaned, “C’mon bear, need you so bad.”

Bucky quietly seated himself at your soaked entrance, sliding in with a breathless whimper of your name. You bit down on the meat of your boyfriends shoulder with a cut-off moan. Bucky kneaded at your ass while he panted. Neither of you moved, overwhelmed with sensation. Bucky mewled some nonsense about how good you felt, spurring you to start riding him in earnest.

A throaty moan tore from the brunette’s throat, his hands clamping down for dear life. You’d cherish the aching bruises in the morning. You rode at a steady pace, bracing yourself on his muscular shoulders. You gasped his name repeatedly, the soldier’s cock filling you up perfectly. You angled yourself forward for Bucky’s cock to grind against your sweet spot. Another surge of arousal spiked around you, Bucky thrusting up in response. You hoarsely whispered in his ear, “Ah fuck, so good baby— so fucking big.” You nipped at his earlobe with a small noise.

Your boyfriend was in heaven. Practically drooling as all he could do was moan and whine under you. He would switch between strong thrusts to writhing pathetically, all overwhelmed. Now Buck was writhing, his hands still clamped down on your ass. He stuttered out little “ah ah ahs” as you continued your brisk pace on his dick. You pinched at his nipple, Bucky’s small noises peeling off into a genuine wail.

He’d never been so loud and submissive before. Bucky had been gentle and let you take the reins when the pair of you became intimate. But he was holding back too— craving that ultimate submission he’d done for so long. You wrapped a small hand around the column of his throat and begged, “S-sweetheart, doing so good m’gonna come. Make me come my love!” Your boyfriend nodded his assent and one of his vice grips snaked around to your clit. You fell onto his chest as Bucky moved up into you with solid thrusts. You felt his thighs shaking beneath you.

Bucky captured your lips in a messy kiss, spit wetting his lips from constant moaning. You sucked on his tongue, shivering as your impending orgasm heightened. Bucky whimpered into your mouth, “G’nna cum yes- shit oh god- I love you!” You begged Bucky mercilessly, licking into his open mouth. Bucky’s thrusts turned sloppy, grinding up into you roughly. With a pinch of your clit the coil snapped, you reeling with a drawn out cry. Youl clamped down onto him, releasing onto his lap.

Bucky shouted your name, gushing into you. He whimpered and shook through the aftershocks, ropes of cum filling you up. You fared no better, your forehead pressed against his own. The pair of you panted into each other’s mouths. Your satiation and love filled the air, pleasantly gracing your nostrils. Bucky’s own feelings made you feel warm and safe. He softly spoke, “Don’t move, please.” He stayed inside of you but his cock was softening now.

Your chest caught at the feeling of Bucky’s release dribbling out of you. You kissed him on the lips chastely, murmuring an ‘I love you’. Bucky looked up at you, his eyes watery and thick lashes clumped with tears. He croaked, “That was perfect— you were perfect.” You bashfully looked away, feeling self conscious. Bucky repeated himself, “No really, you’re precious. I’m so proud of you.” You choked back a sob, clinging to your man. You breathed, “Thank you. Shit.” His lips quirked up in mirth as he tucked a hair behind your ear.

“Love you,” he cooed.

#Bucky barnes x reader #sub!bucky #needy Bucky #soft baby #empathic projection reader #Bucky is touch starved #attempt at writing sub space #idk hope y’all like it #sub Bucky rights the only rights

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for a Fic...

~*~

1. For the next in the mood post - can you recommend some really funny fics? Whether it’s the premise or the writing, just something silly and fun and a little ridiculous

Magic Mishap by Regency_Bunny (T, 8k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Single parent WWX, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, Meet cute, Love at first sight, Himbo LXC, Magic tricks)

🧡don't threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media)

boyfriend material by ricken (M, 41k, College AU, Bad pick-up lines, Fluff, Humor, Mutual pining, Happy with a happy ending)

Please Call Me Again by legendlanzhan ( T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Kid fic, Single parent WWX, Prank calls, Fluff, Humor)

🧡Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, Junior Quartet Centric, Background WangXian, Fluff, Crack, Translation into Русский available: Важные различия by Alre_Snow, Greykite, WTF Modao Zushi 2022 (fandom_Wei_Wuxian_and_Co) )

Heir and Parents by draechaeli (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Marriage, Crack)

A Little Bit of Helpful Advice by pupeez4eva (T, 2k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Humor, Crack, Someone tell JC to sober up before he time travels, JC interrupts the Jin banquet with a few words of advice, Yunmeng Bros)

Impulse Spending by mondengel (Not rated, 890, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Crack, Humor)

can you feel it by lanzhancore (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Idiot Lovers, Crack Treated Seriously)

no certainty of doors between us by betts (T, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Roommates, Crack Treated Seriously, Drunken Confessions, Idiots in Love, dubiously consensual spooning, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing Clothes, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff)

CEO Billionaire Lan Zhan by detention_notes (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parody, Pining Bunnies, Wealth, Crack)

Wangxian Tax Universe Series by adrian_kres, RoseThorne (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Americana, Taxes, Family issues, Fluff, Crack)

The Mistletoe Virgin by Vamillepudding (G, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Romantic Comedy, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Deaf LWJ)

~*~

2. Hi, do you have any fic recs where either WWX or LWJ is an alien? Maybe more of a first contact/alien invasion sort of plot rather than a whole "in space" au? @ehyde

Lost and Found by diamondbruise (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, Alien Lans, Baby Alien LSZ, Slow burn, Soulmates, Crack treated seriously, Rough Sex, Happy ending)

every time we touch (i get this feeling) by celerydragon (T, 16k, WangXian, SciFi AU, Alien LWJ, Human WWX, Fluff, PWP, Pining, Psychic bond, Telepathy, Interspecies Romance)

so, your roommate's an alien by ariskamalt (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Alien LWJ, Roommate AU, Mpreg, Established Relationship, Dream sex, Eggpreg, Crack treated seriously)

~*~

3. Hi Mods! Thank you for everything you do on this blog! For the next I'm in the mood for could you rec me some LWJ desperately wanting WWX to move into the Jingshi with him? Like they love each other but WWX is still roaming around and LWJ is so ready for that to change and have his WWX with him all the time. I don't mind a modern AU but would prefer canon verse. Thank you!

It's Only Time by etymologyplayground (T, 8k, WangXian, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, It's About The Yearning., Getting Together, Love Confessions)

No more looking, I've found home by annadream (G, 3k, WangXian, letter writing, Post-Canon, Love Letters, Happy Ending, Self-Indulgent, Epistolary)

~*~

4. I’m in a mood for Wangxian Shenanigans (tm)

I Was Uptight, Wanna Let Loose by Anonymous (E, 2k, WangXian, Masturbation, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Semi-Public Sex, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Imaginary blow jobs) extremely explicit cloud recesses arc shenanigans, pls make sure you read the a/n, this one hits some pretty specific kinks

tame by rikke (T, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Very Dumb, very fluff)

Relentless by covalentbonds (G, 1k, WangXian, LWJ & WWX & LSZ, Everybody Lives/Nobody dies, Fluff, LWJ is Ripped, Inspired by Fanart) canon divergent shenanigans ft bb a’yuan

~*~

5. Oh great a powerful mods! I need help 🙇 I’m in the mood for Dark!Lan Zhan fics but ones that don’t feature him manipulating or Stockholm-ing Wei Ying. More of the “he’ll kill someone that looks at Wei Ying wrong and then buy Wei Ying flowers on the way home” kinda vibe. Can you recommend anything like that?

Manmade Fate by YumichanHamano (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dark LWJ, Organized crime, Arranged marriage, Fluff)

🧡Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Light Angst, Crime Boss LWJ, Rogue criminal genius WWX) The crime boss! lan zhan tag might be up their alley, but this is only one that I have read and highly recommend!

🧡modus operandi by synonemous (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, Serial killer WangXian, Eventual happy ending, WangXian's Canon Kinks, Smut)

🧡in flagrante delicto by synonemous (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, Serial killer WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Smut, Wangxian's Canon Kinks, Modern Yi City arc, Angst with a happy ending)

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6. Hi! is there any fics with a cottage core kinds theme? Specifically one where both wwx and lwj reside in a cottage in like a rural area and are living a very peaceful type of life?Thank you!

come to the harbor of your longing by occultings (microcomets) (E, 32k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, cottagecore, hauntings, mediums, slice of life, dreams, no angst, smut)

tessellate by mellowflicker (T, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, Cottagecore, Hurt/Comfort, Gratuitous Domesticity, extremely touched starved, we found love in a hopeless place mp3, background NieLan, Happy Ending)

Summer Rain by Sweetlittlevampire (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, Romance, Getting together, Rabbits, Domestic fluff, Tooth-rotting fluff, Cottagecore)

dance into your hurricane by rightdowntothebone (E, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Amnesia, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, i mean look at canon, me manifesting my cottagecore future 2: the electric boogaloo) heads up this is a 65k one shot, so pace yourself reading it lol

the lives of birds by bleuett (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Fluff and Humor, Family Feels, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Rimming, Blow Jobs)

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7. For "In The Mood For.." could I request concubine/harem AU's? Preferably with prince/emperor Lan Wangji, but anything is fine. :)

The Imperial Jewel by Serinah (E, 39k, WangXian, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Dubious consent, A/B/O, Fucking while pining)

Rattling our cages by danegen (E, 65k, WangXian, Slow Burn, A/B/O, Pining while Fucking, WWX has a vagina, Canon era) this one is a variation on the concubine theme with an omegaverse twist

Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous ( E, 122k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, A/B/O, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Angst with a happy ending) ABO, it’s still a WIP, but it is AMAZING! The world building is meticulous, the smutty parts are steamy, and the humor is sublime ♥️♥️♥️

Flowers in the Palace series by stiltonbasket (T, 19k, Female WangXian, NieLan, Female LXC, Emperor NMJ, Empress LXC, Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Getting together, Harem, Concubine WWX, Consort LWJ) Harem AU with fem wangxian as part of emperor nmj's harem, but he has no relationship with them

For #7 I am recommending some Emperor!Wei ying that give the palace/concubine/harem vibe :)

The Last Concubine by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 13k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor WWX, Concubine LWJ, LWJ Whump, Forced Marriage, Starvation, Non-physical spousal abuse, Fluff and Angst, Doing the Wrong Thing for the Right Reasons, Happy Ending, WWX Takes Care of LWJ, Translation into Español available: El Último Concubino by deliciousblizzardshark, evirtual3)

Ab aaja re mere piya by mastani (T, 3k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor WWX, Consort LWJ, lwj being a pouty baby, also lwj being salty, because lwj doesn't not like to be exposed)

Conquering the Emperor by catbrainedschemes (E, 21k, WangXian, Historical, Imperial China, Emperor!WWX, General!LWJ, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Historically Inaccurate, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) this one is technically General!LWJ and Emperor!WWX

catch this manic rhapsody by anatheme (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Emperor WWX, Power Dynamics, AU where the Yiling Patriarch became the First Emperor of the Cultivation World, he calls LWJ his Concubine Lan and baobei, Switch WangXian, Mutual Pining, Immortal WWX)

The Concubine Mo Chronicles Series by Enigmatree (T, 71k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Prince LWJ, Concubine WWX, Mild Hurt/Comfort)

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8. hi! your blog is lovely i adore it so much!!! i'm really in the mood for a fic where lwj openly defies his family to get together with wwx/support wwx even as his family/Lan Clan hates it. just wangxian defying society and people to be together! thank you so much!!!! @darceth

A War of Stone and Silence by kitsunealyc for defractum (nyargles) (T, 4k, Canon Divergence, Burial Mounds, Lans Being Crappy Communicators, Wall of Discipline, Remix)

Share Your Silence Series by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (Varied, 138k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LWJ stays at Burial mounds, Romance, Everyone Lives, YL WWX)

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9. Hellow Mods, good day to all of u. Can I ask for recommendations on any Role reversal fics, but I would really love some Yunmeng siblings role reversal. Thank u so much.<(￣︶￣)>

If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, wangxian, JYL & JC & WWX, LXC/NMJ, canon divergence, role reversal, angst w/ happy ending, grief/mourning, loss, YLLZ WWX, hurt/comfort, healing)

Uno Reverse by A_flower_in_the_snow (M, 62k, wangxian, lan WWX, OOC, role reversal, 0not JC friendly, not Jiang friendly, time travel fix-it, WIP)

master of shadows by lily_winterwood & Matriarch (M, 41k, wangxian, major character death (WWX), canon divergence, YLLZ LWJ, dark LWJ, dark LXC, pining, soft JC, switching, bottom LWJ)

all the same reasons by aghostandchangeling (Not rated, 203k, wangxian, canon divergence, role reversal, YLLZ LWJ, fluff, angst, WIP)

bloom into the ground by tattletold (M, 58k, wangxian, canon divergence, major character death, role reversal, angst, grief/mourning, pining, happy ending, Mojo’s post)

Keep Holding On by abCEE (M, 257k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, canon divergence, role reversal, YLLZ JYL, yunmeng sibling dynamics, good uncle LQR, sunshot campaign, PTSD, established relationship, angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

Down with the Yiling Laozu!! by Marinelifeclub (T, 5k, wangxian, major character death, YLLZ JC, not JC friendly, not Jiang friendly, mentions of mpreg)

❤️overcast by willowcatkin (T, 7k, wangxian, canon divergence, role reversal, angst w/ happy ending)

through carrion glass, the stars by tombenough_and_continent (T, 13k, XXC/SL, XXC & LWJ, XXC & WWX, canon divergence, role reversal, major character death, sunshot campaign)

Like Petals in a Storm by bladedweaponsandswishycoats (jeweledichneumon) (E, 11k, wangxian, role reversal, resentacles, happy ending)

Alleviate by Carey_Miller (M, 122k, wangxian, major character death, modern, role reversal, YLLZ LWJ, reincarnation, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance, pining, heartbreak, friendship, family bonding, smut, WIP)

A Home Is Not A Place by staringatstars (G, 4k, NHS & WN, LWJ & NHS, wangxian, major character death, role reversal)

blood on lotus blossoms by cryptenhope (T, 7k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, canon divergence, role reversal, YLLZ JC, sect leader JYL, angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

Let the rain drown the wilted lotus by BlueAthena (Not rated, 20k, JC & WWX & JYL, JC/NHS, JYL/JZX, wangxian, role reversal, personality swap, YLLZ JC, sect leader JYL, JC centric, fluff, angst, slow burn, WIP)

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10. Hello! Fics where wangxian do not know each other before and WWX is the very fiersome YLLZ. Including but not limited to one's where it is wangxian arranged marriage, or their meeting by chance and lz not knowing that THIS is the yllz. But any where lz and or lxc either give the scary guy a chance or are uncertain of him but later learn that he is good, etc.

carried by the wind by saichan (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Different first meeting, Burial mounds crows, Letters, Yi City, Post SSC, Rogue Cultivator WWX, YL WWX)

Fated Meeting by LtLJ (G, 6k, wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, post apocalypse, hurt/comfort, happy ending, YLLZ WWX, BAMF LWJ) locked and can only be seen by logged in AO3 users

Sunlight smoke and silver ashes by apathyinreverie (M, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, A/B/O, Street Kid WWX, YL WWX, Secret Identity, BAMF WWX, Falling in love, Romance)

hot necromancer singles seeking dom daddies in your area by Mikkeneko (M, 19k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, BDSM Scene, Yiling Wei Sect, Aftercare, Brat WWX, Mojo's bookmark)

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YL WWX, Arranged marriage, Mutual Pining, Slow burn, Political scheming)

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11. Hi Mojo! I was wondering if there's any fics with Hualian as Wei Wuxian's parents? Or maybe other couples from others books/donghua etcs?

a warm coal in the hearth of our hearts by eccentrick (T, 46k, HuaLian, TGCF Crossover, Found Family, Kid fic, Fluff with plot, Angst, Hurt/comfort)

The Human Realm Is Not Worth It by Ju_StADreamer (T, 150k, WIP, ShenZhao, WangXian, Guardian Crossover, Time Travel Fix-it, Friends to Lovers, ShenZhao adopt WWX, Angst with a happy ending, Not Jiang Friendly)

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12. Hello wonderful mods! I would like to ask whether are there fics where LWJ/WWX is not entirely forgiving of his Sect and Lan Xichen? Especially post canon. A lot of fics seem to be way lenient on LXC and Lan sect prejudice ~ @hid9884

the moon obscured by clouds by unnecessary (M, 75k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Demonic Cultivator LWJ, Angst, Getting Together, Accidental Marriage, Case fic)

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13. I'm in the mood for... sickfic. All the sickfic, specifically with Wei Wuxian as the one cared for. But! I've already trawled AO3's sick/illness/sick wei wuxian tags. Any sickfic that isn't tagged as such, please rec me! Even if it's only a part/chapter of a fic (Like with Hope Dangling by a String by KouriArashi, or Letters by Withbroombefore, or many works by Stiltonbasket), I'd be happy to find it! Thank you! @kesterling​

Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sick fic, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It)

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together)

Walking Back To You by vesna (mrsronweasley) (T, 20k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, some graphic descriptions of an injury, Getting Together, Good Uncle LQR, wangxian-typical misunderstanding) might fit. wwx isn't sick but he is gravely injured

the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 70k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Chronic pain, Switching, Golden Core Reveal) wwx has chronic pain

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14. Hiii! I hope y’all having a great week. For the next in the mood for, I have two requests: a) a fic where jingyi plays the flute/xiao and he’s good at it (since he’s always critiquing wwx at the beginning) and b) a fic where wangxian became part of the romantic lore of gusu lan, maybe they even got to be part of history lessons as a couple? Thanks!

14B)

Retrouvaille by wxparoxysm (T, 69k, WIP, WangXian, XiCheng, Modern AU, University AU, Teacher WWX, Student LWJ,) Retrouvaille has the history and their love story in it

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15. Hi mods! I am looking for fics where Mo Xuanyu lives and has WWX as a friend/mentor/big brother/father figure. Canon era or AUs are great, but no mpreg or A/B/O please. Any pairings are welcome. Thanks for all you do!

The storm comes and goes (and I keep walking) by Naamah_Beherit (M, 41k, WWX & LSZ & MXY, & WN, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Blood and Injury, Identity reveal, Rape/Non-Con, Reunions, No Romance)

Mo XuanYu’s Bewildering Re-Start by MarbleGlove (T, 9k, WangXian,. WWX & MXY, WWX & WQ, Time Travel, Suicide attempt, Unreliable Narrator)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder

[scarletttries]

Speaking Volumes (Adrian Chase Request)

Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Gender neutral pronouns through, but AFAB reader for smut purposes). Mention of a bomb and fire for an angsty start, but happy ending as always.

Word Count: 3.3k

Requests: "Can I pls request adrian and the reader hooking up while on a mission with the 11th street kids? and they try to be quiet but fail miserably." And "Ello! I love your fics sm! 🤍And I hope you don't mind but I want to request something for Adrian Chase x Wife! Reader where something happened and they get separated amidst chaos and everything through Adrian tries so hard to find his dear wife 🥺you get to decide the ending so much angst please thanks 😊💕"

Author's Note: Guess whose rewatching Peacemaker and has rediscovered her intense feelings for Adrian Chase 🙃🥰 thank you so much to these two requests that have been chilling in my inbox for months and I hope you enjoy the combo! Please feel free to send my your Adrian Chase thoughts while I try to cope with my feelings 😍

Speaking Volumes

When someone asked Adrian Chase what his 'superpower' was, he might say his weapons skills, his endurance or his ability to heal. If he thought about it more though, he'd say it was his ability to spot any weakness in an opponent, whether in their armour or their character. It had saved his life on more occasions than one, and every time it hardened his resolve to never develop a weakness of his own. But as he stalked through another row of floor-to-ceiling shelves in this industrial warehouse, separated from each and every one of his team he knew he'd failed to protect himself from weakness as his mind perpetually wandered to the agent on the other side of the cavernous structure: you.

Falling for you had been more natural than breathing to Adrian. From the first friendly smile he'd known you were the one, different to everyone he'd ever met, the piece he didn't realise he'd been missing until your eyes met his. The atmosphere between the two of you had been undeniable, and it didn't take long until he couldn't contain his feelings, three little words spilling from his lips every time your paths crossed. And of course, you had no choice but to return them, deeply in love with the strange but endearing vigilante, captivated by his undivided devotion. You settled into a perfectly unusual life together, sharing a small apartment that quickly felt like home, working together on missions with the 11th street kids, and having each other's backs through everything from bad hair days to hostage situations. After spending so much of his life feeling like he couldn't quite connect with others, finding you had been the best thing that had ever happened to Adrian Chase, and it surprised no-one when six months after you met a mission to Las Vegas had ended with a quick stop at a chapel, making sure you two would be bound together forever.

As Adrian peeked out from behind another tall stack of crates, peering down the scope of his rifle, he tried to distract himself from all thoughts of his partner being in an equally dangerous situation, until he heard the distinct cry of Peacemaker's voice,

"FUCK!"

The crates beside him tumbled as the ground seemed to tremble, a deafening boom echoing through the warehouse. Adrian skirted the falling heap just in time to avoid being crushed, but the shelves around him were quickly caving in as the warehouse began to fill with smoke. Adrian's mind was racing - they got the address on this place a little too easily, it must have been a trap all along, wired to blow the second they got deep enough into the labyrinth of shelves. If peacemaker found the bomb he was probably closest, but he could take the damage, he'd be okay. Economos was out in the van and would be watching their backs for an ambush, which left the three other agents inside, possibly hurt, Harcourt, Leota and (Y/N). - His lungs seemed to empty at the realisation, you were in here, separated from him, lost in the chaos of smoke and flames and toppling steel. He could feel the panic setting in as his fingertips tingled with numbness that threatened to become all encompassing, his mouth drying out from more than the rising smoke. He tried to shake off his dread, focus on finding you again, willing his suddenly aching arms to work as he began to clamber haphazardly up the nearest pile of rumble. He could feel eyes start to sting as he lifted himself to a vantage point, vision obscured through the falling tears and climbing flames.

He surveyed the scene in front of him, struggling to make out even the most obvious shapes in darkness, let alone the small form of his forever best friend. His voice croaked as he tried to call your name through the darkness, a fresh cascade of tears joining it as he tried so hard to quiet his relentlessly talkative brain - I'm never going to be able to find them in this mess, and they're probably dead by now anyway. I'm going to be back to being alone, that was it, that was my one person and I couldn't even save them when they needed me. I never deserved them and now everyone will know it. (Y/N) was my one chance at love. - His chest felt bruised with every breath he took, like every falling brick was landing solely on his heart. He stood frozen, never feeling more lost and alone as he tried to scream,

"I can't find you (y/n)!" His desperate voice prevailed this time, echoing over the crackle of smouldering palates, his shuddering chest using every ounce of strength to fight back his inner monologue. - (Y/N) is my love, not was. I'm going to find them, i'm going to save them, that's what husbands do. And I'm a good husband. - He repeated the mantra to himself as he began to press forward through the choking fog, looking for any movement in the wreckage beneath him. He could feel his own lungs burning through the smoke, his ears ringing from the explosion, barely able to centre himself, desperate not to lose his sense of direction in the chaos. And then he saw it, a figure near the exit, thrashing and fighting against twisted beams of crushing steel, blocking their path. He wanted to keep his cool, approach slowly in case it wasn't you, but his heart was screaming so much louder than his brain as he climbed toward the struggling shape.

You had tried to pull yourself up on to the precarious shelves when the bomb went off, but each one seemed to topple towards you at the thought, leaving you trapped in one small corner, steel beams blocking the exit just beyond your reach. You kicked and fought and pulled at the metal, but it was steadfast, deaf to your desperate pleas to move. You tried to calm yourself, keep your breaths shallow, heart-rate slow, telling yourself that Adrian would never leave you behind, unwilling to face the possibility that he might not be able to find you in this obscured atmosphere. You told yourself at least he'd always be okay, and that he's never let you down before, but as the smoke and your tears grew thicker you found yourself beginning to give into hopelessness. You would give anything to hear just one more dumb joke in your husband's voice, to feel his arms around you again, to see his eyes light up when you tell him you love him.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" You heard a familiar voice call out from above you, spinning to see an arm stretching down for you to grab.

"Adrian!" You screamed, in terror and relief that you weren't here alone, your unorthodox angel pulling you out of the fiery depths with ease, wrapping his strong arms around you.

"It's going to be okay (Y/N). Now that I found you, it's going to be okay." He repeated, pulling you close to his chest.

----------------

Through some small miracle, no-one had gotten seriously hurt by the bomb. Chris was a little bruised and cut, and Harcourt had a twisted ankle, but as they sat facing each other in your team safe house, Harcourt gently cleaning the grazes on Chris's chest while he regaled everyone with the brave tale of him carrying Harcourt out of the fire, it seemed like neither of them minded. You laughed at the blush creeping across her cheeks as Emilia insisted it would have been quicker to just let her walk, casting furtive glances in the direction of an unusually quiet Adrian, who was focused on helping Economos carry what they could salvage from the warehouse into the tiny make-shift office at the back of the small house. As a comfortable quiet settled over the room, Harcourt spoke unusually softly,

"I know we all had a scare today, but we got lucky. We're all back here, we're all okay, and we shouldn't take that for granted. But we've still got a job to do, so we need to stick together for a few more days while we get to the bottom of exactly what they didn't want us to find."

The team solemnly nodded, resolved to go the distance on this case, despite the obvious risks. As Leota moved to help Economos set up his laptops, Adrian stepped casually behind you,

"Hey honey, please will you give me a hand moving something in the office?" His voice was overly nonchalant, only an innocent whistle missing from his attempt to act natural, but you were used to his tone being a little off so you followed him to the backroom, watching him quickly shut the door, and tilt a chair in front of the handle.

"Ad-" His lips cut you off with uncharacteristic force, crashing down with the weight of his adoration. He gripped your hips as his body pressed against yours, forcing you backwards, step after step until the small of your back pressed into the edge of the wooden desk that filled the space. Satisfied that he had you trapped against him, Adrian pulled away from the kiss, staring intensely at your face like a man who'd been reminded that one day it would be the last time he had you this close.

"I thought I was going to lose you today (Y/N)." He paused, swallowing the tremble in his throat, still reeling from the feeling of complete loss he had felt staring out across that burning building. "And the thought of living all of the rest of my days without you, was the fucking worst. Literally the saddest thing I could imagine, and it almost happened today and I didn't know what to do, or how to find you, but I knew I had to." His lips captured yours again, a chaste kiss to give him the strength to go on, "I had to find you, because you're the love of my life. And I can't go on without you." His hands crept from your hips to your bum, lifting you slightly until you sat on the edge of the desk, Adrian planted between your thighs. "Harcourt's right, we shouldn't take this for granted." His lips found yours again, satisfied that he had said all he needed to, Vigilante put his lips to better use. Their soft, warm embrace had your head spinning, all but forgetting about the team on the other side of the thin walls as you pulled at the tight fabric of Adrian's shirt. His intense focus seemed to lighten as he leant back, quickly pulling the material over his head, a delighted smile spreading across his cheeks as you pulled his chest towards, lips landing on the curve of his neck.

"I knew you'd find me Adrian. You're my hero." You whispered, leaving a trail of wet kisses over his sensitive throat, feeling the vibration of every soft moan you drew from him. Nuzzling your nose into his muscular jaw you whispered teasingly, "We've got to stay quiet okay Adrian, we don't want everyone to hear." Nipping just below his ear, knowing he can't help but groan at the sensation. Marvelling at your cheeky grin, you could see the excited expression on his face twist into a smirk, like you had given me a challenge he couldn't refuse.

Your lips returned to his chest, while his fingers found the button on your jeans, making quick work of releasing you from them, and sliding them down your legs. He fought back a devilish grin as he rubbed you through your underwear, waiting for your jaw to fall slack before plunging his tongue between your lips, swallowing the breathy whimpers you couldn't hold back. His fingers brushed over the fabric with teasing softness, building up your sensitivity without giving you any relief. He watched your chest rise and fall against his as his free hand unbuttoned your shirt, sliding it off your shoulders without his hungry lips leaving yours. You quickly pulled the tactical tank top you had underneath over your head, giving Adrian unrestricted access to your chest, hoping to spur him into giving you more of what you really wanted. Adrian drank in the sight of you, only covered by your increasingly damp underwear, chest heaving at his every touch, hips bucking to meet his hand as he played with the soft fabric. It took all his effort to fight the instinct to shout about how hot you are at the top of his lungs, but he managed with the need to make it you who couldn't contain themselves.

"Adrian please," You whispered, rubbing his obvious erection over his uniform, giving him your best pleading eyes, aching to feel more of him. He quickly stepped out of his pants, before whispering back,

"You look so fucking hot (y/n), I love when you get all needy because that's like how I feel about you all the time. Just remember you have to be quiet babe."

You opened your mouth to make a snarky response, but what came out was far from coherent words as Adrian fingers slipped beneath the slick fabric and deep into your entrance. You could almost feel his smug smile against your skin as his tongue found your nipple, lapping against the stiff peak as his free hand massaged the other side of your chest. Your skin was on fire as he moved, his thumb running over your wet folds before strumming your clit in steady rhythm with the rest of his touch. The ache inside you only grew as you felt him rubbing himself against your thigh, so turned on as he forced the adoring noises out of you, his name cascading from your lips at an unmistakable volume.

"Shh!" He chuckled against your chest, the vibration only heightening the overwhelming amount of sensation taking over your body, and taking any thoughts that didn't revolve around Adrian far from your mind.

"Adrian." You whimpered again as his fingers worked faster, the glistening wetness filling your underwear making every brush of your clit send electricity through your veins.

"You're so wet," He growled against your sensitive skin, "It's gonna feel so good to be inside you, you're so good to me." You let out an almost pleading moan at his praise, wanting nothing more than to feel more of him inside you, even as the sensation growing in your centre climbed towards its climax. Feeling your thighs start to twitch against his leaking erection, he could tell you were close, silencing the majority of your cries with his lips as he maintained the steady waves of pressure on your clit, playing lightly with your overstimulated nipples until he felt them arch into his hand, your core tensing as your clenched around his relentlessly plunging fingers.

As your head swam with pleasure, you knew there was no way the rest of the team didn't know exactly what was happening, but the least you could do was make Adrian just as guilty as you in disturbing the peace. Pushing his hand away from your pulsing centre you hopped down from the desk, dropping your now soaked underwear to the floor and turning your back to Adrian. Slowly you lent all the way forwards until your chest reached the cool wood of the desk, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking over your shoulder to see an awestruck Adrian staring down at you like he couldn't quite believe how lucky he got.

"Well come on then, give it to me Vigilante." You breathed out quietly, wiggling your hips against his throbbing manhood, earning a deep groan from him. Reaching back you ran his sensitive tip over your glistening folds, earning strangled moan after moan from him before finally you lined him up with your entrance and pushed yourself around him.

"Fuck!" He half cried out, echoing through the room and no doubt the whole house, but still making some attempts to keep his volume in check as he gripped your hips hard and began fucking into you. His hips slammed against your ass as he filled you completely, the sensation quickly building in you again as you began to softly moan,

"You feel you good Adrian, you fill me up so well. I can feel you so deep inside me." With every praise his groans grew louder and his hips bucked harder, his own excitement quickly reaching its peak as he fondled your fleshy hips, squeezing your cheeks as he thrust into you from behind. Desperate to get his volume up to its maximum level you looked back over your shoulder to lock eyes with his, using one hand to interlock fingers with him while the other trailed down your body to settle between your legs. Adrian watched with wide eyes as you brought his fingers to your lips, kissing them softly, then sliding them into your mouth, sucking on them without breaking eye contact. As Adrian's breath caught in his throat, genuinely concerned he might die of happiness before he had the chance to finish, he felt you moan against his hand, now rubbing your slick clit in time with his hammering hips. Bobbing your head against his fingers, running your tongue over the tips, and moaning at your own touch had Adrian shaking in seconds, fighting back his inevitable release just to be able watch this a second longer. The overwhelming look in his wide eyes had a similar effect on you as you felt yourself start to shake again, pulling his fingers from your lips to sigh softly with your release,

"I love you so much Adrian."

"UUHH, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH." His own cry did not come softly and neither did he as he slammed into the back of you, hips stuttering as he filled you with his warmth, worried his legs might collapse beneath him the second he pulled out of you. Willing to take the risk he pulled back, easily manoeuvring you onto your back so he could climb onto the desk and on top of you.

"You're the love of my life too Adrian." You cooed softly, brushing a curl now damp with sweat off his forehead.

"I'm never getting separated from you again," he replied resolutely, before pondering sincerely,

"Do you think anyone heard?" You burst into laughter, knowing whatever teasing you got would be worth it to have your Vigilante safe and close again.

--------------------

"This is your fault you know," Adebayo cursed, casting Harcourt a begrudging look as they all tried to ignore the sound of creaking wood and breathy moans from the next room. "You had to say not to take this for granted."

"Alright fine, someone write a note, we're going to a bar and they can meet us there. First rounds on me." Harcourt admitted begrudgingly, but her soft tone was not nearly as frustrated as it should be, genuinely grateful for the safety of all her friends. Even the annoyingly in love ones.

#writing #fanfiction #requests #adrian chase #one shot #peacemaker vigilante #adrian chase x reader #peacemaker #vigilante #adrian chase headcanons #peacemaker headcanons #freddie stroma

[daydadahlias]

What is the difference to you between Wattpad fic and non Wattpad fic? Genuinely asking. Isn't fic just fic and quality is going to vary regardless of where it gets posted? Also i think to me at least, x reader fic is kind of synonymous with Wattpad so how can you "condemn" one but not the other? Interested to hear your thoughts :)

ok so it is 1 am and I just finished writing a vEry bad paper so my brain is not firing on all cylinders rn. thus, pls forgive me for not being the most articulate.

I would like to first say that all of this is just my Jess Opinion so I’m not trying to make you disagree or agree w/ me and I’m not stating any of this as fact. These are just my personal thoughts that I state with authority and passion bc that’s how I talk :) ok!!

Obviously I don’t actually “condemn” any authors lmfao I was just being dramatic for comedic affect. Im not asking to burn any wattpad authors at the stake or anything. However, there is definitely a distinct difference between wattpad fic and ao3 fic, so much so that I can literally read a fic on ao3 and tell when it has been cross posted from wattpad.

Fic quality actually does not vary as much as you think dependent on platform. Usually people write amongst groups of likeminded people and similar writing styles so your writing style can be influenced a Lot by the platform you post on. Sure there’s an outlier here and there but pretty much all wattpad fic is simply Not written well for a variety of reasons.

My most personal beef from wattpad stems from their crack ass horrible garbage stupid bitch fuck ratchet tagging system.

On wattpad, there is NO way to trigger warn or appropriately tag for content or, as a reader, filter out content you don’t want to see. Unless an author specifically includes something in an author note about content warnings (which they Don’t do for the most part because no one else on the platform does so why would they break fhe mold??)

This means that when you read Most wattpad fics, you don’t know what kind of content you’re going to encounter. Often times, this content ends up being blatant internalized misogyny, domestic abuse, and/or dub-con handled with no tact or understanding for the problematicism of the subject matter :)

I don’t personally read x reader (bc I’m an aroace person so I’m just not the audience for it lol) but I certainly don’t knock people that write it. It’s a very valid form of writing/expression and there are plenty of very talented x reader writers on tumblr that I respect a lot. So that’s why I made the differentiation.

A lot of the x reader writers on tumblr are adults whereas wattpad is primarily comprised of children (when I say children I mean as broad a range as 9-16).

Because ao3 is regarded as “confusing” to a lot of young people just now getting into fanfic (ie. me when I was 12), they post on wattpad (or quotev, which is where I posted lol) because it is a platform made to be accessible for primarily adolescents.

This means that the bulk of fics you’re finding on wattpad are written by teenagers; often, straight female teenagers who have not had comprehensive sex education, do not understand the full spectrum of consent, have only consumed media that pushes damaging heteronormative expectations when it comes to romance, and are reading stories written by other adolescents who don’t understand these topics either!!! It’s usually a case of the blind leading the blind.

I don’t inherently think of wattpad being synonymous with x reader considering there is slash on there too. I instead consider it synonymous with adolescent writing. And, as we’ve established a few times now, I’m an adult who does not feel comfortable reading about children or reading the writing of children.

While there’s nothing wrong with kids learning how to write and becoming comfortable with their craft (and while I think it is important for them to have those outlets as it was for me), wattpad writers never really tend to grow out of that because that’s what basically All the content on wattpad is. They continuously feed into a loop of misinformation that they perpetuate the cycle of by not understanding the content they’re consuming is inappropriate and incorrect (I’m talking about romantic portrayals of abuse/assault and the glamorization of abusive men).

Young teens using wattpad makes sense to me. It really does. I used quotev so I don’t have room to talk. I can say, however, that I don’t like it, considering how permeated wattpad is with untagged rape and domestic violence that teaches young consumers really damaging perspectives about romance but… I know kids genuinely don’t know any better and have not been given an outlet to know better when our sex education system fails to teach us even the slightest bit of porn literacy… but that’s neither here nor there. And I often times make fanfic a deeper conversation than it needs to be :)

#and scene #take a deep breath #my thoughts :) #all personal no one is allowed to argue w/ me bc I’m not saying these things are fact #pigeon #anon #I luv how long this is #I spent 23 minutes typing this answer wow #jessay #that really was a jessay geez