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ttttaehyungie · 4 years

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a twist of fate | pjm x reader

a twist of fate | park jimin x reader oneshot

☘ genre | bff2l, soulmate au, fluff

☘ word count | 4k

☘ rating | PG-13

☘ summary | It was on one of those nights, sprawled lazily on the couch with the armrest as a pillow for your head, mindlessly scrolling through the threads as you speed-read them, that you first came across the term. Singular soulmates? It had you sitting up. Singular soulmates, put simply, was where someone may be your soulmate, but you’re not theirs.

☘ a/n | This fic was fueled by the recent return of my struggles with insomnia (but has, in turn, further fueled my insomnia as well...) and I just wanted to write some characters being dumb alrite HAHAH

The day your best friend’s name appears on your body was a day filled with panic for you. You still remember the immediate response your brain spat out the moment you saw the black letters of his name printed on your skin.

What the heck- NO.

It’s not that Jimin was unattractive- in character nor in looks. It’s just that, like every boy that age, he was obsessed with girls, entranced by any girl that so much as looked at him for more than two seconds. You couldn’t blame him. Being fourteen was just like that, or so you’ve heard. Being fourteen, pubescent and hormonal, people around you just magically became attractive, acne and brace-faces didn’t matter. Being fourteen, standing at the cusp of maturity and the newfound independence that it brought, but without possessing said maturity in its fullness yet, love and relationships were inevitably an exciting topic to navigate in all its sparkling novelty. Being fourteen, you knew that he didn’t really have feelings for you.

But now, at age twenty-two, his name still sits in its place under your collarbone. The cursive style of it has the starting letter of his name looping into the other remaining letters that resemble little waves with the way it’s strung together.

No one really knows all that much about soulmates, just that the mark appears after your soulmate falls in love with you. But as to how fleeting or how deep the feelings are, no one knows. Whether the mark fades along with the feelings is a mystery too. There’s little proper literature on the subject, and whatever you do know about the topic is the result of casually scrolling through reddit whenever you’re bored.

It was on one of those nights, sprawled lazily on the couch with the armrest as a pillow for your head, mindlessly scrolling through the threads as you speed-read them, that you first came across the term. Singular soulmates? It had you sitting up. Singular soulmates, put simply, was where someone may be your soulmate, but you’re not theirs.

You’d dismissed it away back then, writing it off as hogwash floating around on the internet where there’s no information gatekeeper.

Now? It’s become a real fear.

Because you’ve fallen in love with your best friend.

Har har, what a cheesy romance trope, you know. But what were you supposed to do when, during that Christmas break of your first year of college, you had the shocking revelation that Jimin had grown up.

You barely restrained yourself from gawking at the sight of your best friend walking down the street towards your rendezvous point. You’d gone off to different colleges, neither of them far from your hometown, but not close enough that it was convenient to see each other anytime. So you haven’t seen each other in four months. And apparently, in the time that you’d both gone not seeing each other, Jimin’s body had suddenly gained all this muscle in a lithe and toned kind of way. Studying contemporary dance full-time had really changed his body, his once lean and slender limbs now becoming sinewy and firm.

He’d really become a…

“...Hunk.”

“What?”

“Hug!”

You barrel into his arms, and his familiar musk eases you. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the ridges of his body where soft and pliant flesh used to be. But he rests his chin atop your head, and the gentle weight of it is still the same as ever.

“Did you miss me? Or are you just using me for my body warmth?”

Even though he’s changed physically, he’s still the same dork as ever, and it has you smiling both with mirth and with the assurance that he’s still the same Jimin despite the distance of four months between you.

“You’re probably the one using me for body warmth, Mr I’m too cool to wear a jacket to the movie theaters.”

“That was one time!”

It earns you a jab in your side that has you squeaking and writhing in his arms. Yup, some things stay the same.

It’s at your yearly Christmas get together with the gang that things start to go wrong.

Up to that point, you’d blamed the odd sensation on the initial surprise at Jimin’s change in physique. But now, looking at him in his black turtleneck and silver hair, standing by the fireplace and laughing with Tae, his eyes creased in laughter in that oh so familiar way, it has your heart squeezing in a very unfamiliar way.

It’s just because you haven’t seen him in a while and you’ve missed him, you rationalize, taking a sip of the drink in your hand.

Or it could be the alcohol. Yes, it must be the alcohol.

He’s still the same Jimin as ever, you muse, yet something about him just feels so… different. It’s like he’s grown up so much, even though he’s still retained his dorky rambunctious nature.

On the drive here, one arm on the wheel and the other on the backrest of your seat, and the setting sun behind his profile, you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt in your chest.

But maybe it’s just the golden hour sunshine that had him bathing in radiance.

Yet, you knew the view of him was just one thing. It was also in his aura. Leaving for college had forcibly hurled all of you into independence, and Jimin’s had left him becoming someone with a quiet hum of reliability.

Even his chronic tardiness had been left behind with high school Jimin. You’ve known Jimin since preschool and after all these years of knowing him, you’re well-accustomed to the pouty apologies that he doles out each time he’s late- which is always. When he’d offered to pick you up at your house at 5pm to drive you to Hobi’s, you’d fully expected to only have him swing by at 5.30. To your surprise, when you’d made your way downstairs at 5, you’d found him sitting in your living room chatting with your mum, as he apparently had been doing for the last 15 minutes.

Jimin notices your arrival and you don’t miss the quick once-over he gives you. But he doesn’t say anything about it as he gets up from the couch- the same couch he’d once stained from tripping and spilling chocolate milk all over way back in middle school- and promises your mum that he’d make sure you come back in one piece. When you got to his car, instead of the candy wrapper and crumbs-strewn car you were expecting, you were met with a surprisingly spotless interior instead. Your previous perception of your best friend- little brother to be taken care of at all times- was shattered with each new discovery that left only a sturdy and dependable version of him in its wake.

You go to take another sip of your drink, only to find that you’ve unknowingly emptied the cup while you were musing over your best friend’s recent transformation. Frowning into the cup, you decide to get a refill.

From the corner of his eye, Jimin spots you moving off the couch and it’s clear you’re heading to the kitchen where the drinks are. The flush of your face is a tell-tale sign of your tipsiness, if your quiet and withdrawn demeanor weren’t already a dead giveaway. He sighs and apologizes to Tae, cutting him off mid-sentence, and heads over to the kitchen after you.

You’re just about to gulp down more of Yoongi’s mulled wine when a hand wraps around yours, preventing the tilt of the cup and stopping you from ingesting any more of the inebriating liquid. A pair of stern eyes are trained on yours, and you wilt under his gaze, letting him take the glass from you.

But no. Your brain suddenly speaks through the fog. Thoughts of him have already plagued your mind all night, keeping you from having fun. But he’s not going to stop your fun any longer. You reach back for the glass, but it’s a weak attempt that’s easily countered as he pulls it away and out of your reach. He quirks an eyebrow at this.

“Stop controlling me,” you whine.

“I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just know you, and know that you won’t like missing the rest of this gathering just because you drank too much too fast.”

“But I’m fine!” Your voice comes out a little louder than you expected.

“Just slow down on the drinks, okay?” His tone is hushed as he attempts to placate you. “How many glasses has it been?”

“Not even that many.” Unlike him, you can’t be bothered to keep your exchange discreet. “Just give me the damn drink, Jimin!”

Unsurprisingly, your bickering has caught the attention of the others. Back in the living room, it’s Hoseok that has been badgered into playing peacemaker. He enters to see the two of you squabbling in his kitchen. But he also sees something else. Someone- most probably the instigator of all chaos in the group aka. Jin- has sneakily hung mistletoe above the drinks station, likely in hopes of catching two unsuspecting people as they got drinks together.

Which turns out to be you and Jimin.

Hoseok’s bright laughter cuts through the thick tension that has settled over the room. You look at him, only to find him pointing at something above your heads, and that’s when you finally look up and spot the mistletoe.

When you look back at Hoseok, the smirk that sits on his face is smug and unbudging.

“You gotta kiss now,” he sings in an equally smug tone.

“No,” you refuse. “No way.”

“Uh-uh, you know the tradition. You’re not escaping this.”

You shake your head adamantly.

“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss,” he goads. “C’moooon it’s just a peck.”

Jimin, who has stayed quiet up till now, finally speaks up. “Am I really that unappealing?”

He’s unreadable, wearing an expressionless mask.

“Okay, fine.” You’re unsure what his words mean, and it has you relenting, giving in to him as you so often do. “It’s just a kiss.”

You lean in, expecting just a chaste peck that will placate Hoseok. But you’re taken by surprise as Jimin cups your face, hand slightly cool on your cheek from your alcohol flush. The sensation is refreshing and you find yourself leaning into it slightly. His face hovers near yours, and the proximity has your heart pounding. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut as he closes the final few millimetres between you. The kiss he lays on you is hesitant but the tenderness is undeniable, his plush lips nipping yours gently. He pulls back slowly and you can’t help the yearning that grows in tandem with the distance between you. Before you can say anything, he breaks eye contact and turns to Hoseok.

“There. Happy?”

Hoseok is nothing but pleased.

“Definitely.”

You’ve kissed. Jimin and you have just kissed. You kissed Jimin. Well, technically, he kissed you. You just stood there in shock the entire time. But the point is, Jimin, your best friend, and you kissed.

You spend the rest of the night by his side under his insistence that he keeps watch over you. He still refuses to let you drink a sip more. Not that you were putting up a fight anymore after what had just transpired.

At least your quietness for the rest of the night can be pinned on your tipsy state- you’re known to be a quiet drunk.

The rest of the way back home is spent mostly in silence too as you struggle to process what’s just happened. Even up to when you’re pulled up at your house and the engine is cut, you and Jimin merely exchange quiet goodnights.

The silence surrounding it persists till the next day. You’re hanging out in his room, watching a movie. You had said yes to the invitation to laze around in his room for the afternoon way before the unexpected events of the previous night. Even though the thought of seeing him had you antsy as hell, you couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to flake on him, so you dragged yourself over to his place.

It hadn’t been too bad when the movie was playing, you could just fake that you were watching the movie intently. But when it came to an end, so did your excuse for your unusual quietness. So here you are in his room, an empty bowl of what used to be popcorn and an incredibly awkward silence sitting between the two of you.

“Hey, ____,” he begins quietly.

“Hm?”

“We’re still best friends, right?”

Best friends. Right. You can’t deny the way your heart sinks a little at that. Quickly, before he can notice, you plaster on a smile.

“Of course we’re best friends, what are you talking about? We’re Jimin and ____. The dynamic duo. The inseparable pair.”

Jimin smiles faintly at that.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, y’know?” he starts again. “The kiss, I mean.”

“What?”

“I mean, Hobi was just pestering us into it so, yeah. Can we just forget about it?”

It has you pausing for a beat, but you scramble to agree.

“Yeah, yeah. Forget about it.”

That was all three years ago. You’d been friendzoned a whole three years ago. But still, you couldn’t get over your feelings after three years. You said you’d forget about the kiss, but you never did.

What hurt even more than being friendzoned though was the growing possibility that you were singular soulmates. After that Christmas break, things with Jimin had just gone back to normal, your best friendship persevering over geographical distance as you returned back to your own college campuses.

The kiss had certainly complicated things in that you suddenly had all these feelings for the person who at one time had simply been your best friend. Of course, it wasn’t just the kiss. Perhaps it was that first semester you’d spent apart- the first time your previously inseparable pair had ever really been separated- that made your appreciation for him grow. Or maybe it was the growing up he had done over that time that had you seeing Jimin in a different light and finally considering him properly as a man. The kiss had merely been the seal on the confusing feelings that had been bubbling up inside you since your reunion till the Christmas gathering. You had to come to terms with it- you’d fallen in love with your best friend.

If you were his soulmate, your name would surely have appeared on him by now. But he never mentioned it and the dynamics between you two only continued on as best friends.

And it sucked. You were in love with your best friend, your soulmate, but you weren’t his.

You’d tried dating around, in the last few years. Well, if your name hadn’t appeared on him, then maybe it’d appear on someone else. Maybe you just hadn’t met them yet and hadn’t fallen in love with the right one yet. Heck, maybe when they fell in love with you, their name would appear on you just under Jimin’s. It was an odd idea, you know, and you’d never heard of anyone else having that experience before. Perhaps you should launch your strange query out into the unknown void that is reddit and hope to find a comrade somewhere out there in cyberspace.

But the thought of it, imagining a name under Jimin’s, was just plain revolting to you. And what would they even make of it, having to play second fiddle to someone who’d been in your life through all the finger-painting and scuffed knees and awkward puberty and the countless late-night conversations on anything and everything? After all, your long-standing friendship with Jimin had been built on the kindred spirit that you’d serendipitously discovered in each other all those years ago in the playground of your childhood.

You always had to suffer through this train of thought, didn’t you, each time you were about to meet Jimin. You exhale, huffing out your frustration, and wrap your shawl around you as you step out of your car. It’s his graduation show tonight and the formalwear was a dress code requirement. You’d left all your formal dresses at home and had to borrow your college roomie’s instead. But the one she’d loaned you was strapless and failed to conceal your soulmate mark, hence the shawl to hide it.

By the time you get seated in the auditorium, it’s only a couple of minutes till the show begins. The program booklet keeps you occupied as you search for Jimin’s name to take note of which items he’s in so you can look out for him. But you know that even without it, you’d still spot him any time he’s on stage- his stage presence powerful and captivating enough to hold the audience rapt at attention.

The lights dim, and the conversations in the hall quieten with it. The anticipation for the show to begin is palpable. With a bang, it starts, the first item full of fierce and strong movements. You sink back into your seat, settling in for the entrancing show that the dance majors never fail to provide.

The show goes well, and Jimin’s appeared a number of times now. He exerts this magnetic pull on you, your gaze following him from when he first steps on stage till he runs off into the wings. Having followed his dance journey for so long now, you can see just how much his full-time training has paid off- the lines of his extensions are long and poised, his turns are immaculate. His movements exude passion and emotion, and you can’t look away.

That’s probably why you notice it. It’s as he’s running off stage that he stumbles. It’s small, and he’s almost at the wings, but you see how his ankle rolls and a pang of worry reverberates through you.

The enchantment from earlier is broken and replaced by nothing but concern. Each jump that he lands no longer has you dazzled, but wincing instead as you imagine him landing on his busted ankle. You know Jimin and you know his work ethic. He’ll put the production over his well-being any time and only speak up about it after everything is over and his body left battered with abuse.

There’s a slight relief when the lights finally come back on at the end of the show, but it’s not in its entirety. You need to see Jimin.

You’ve been to enough of his shows to remember the path backstage, and you sneak into the dressing rooms, slipping past the families and friends of the exhausted but happy dancers now crowding the lobby in the usual post-production celebrations.

Now that you’re backstage, your next challenge is finding the right door to Jimin’s dressing room. You spot someone ahead of you carrying an ice pack and figure it must be the person Jimin finally, and most likely begrudgingly, admitted his injury to.

“Jimin-ah,” the person calls, as he opens one of the many doors in the corridor.

“Ah, thank you so much,” you hear Jimin’s cheery voice ring out. You roll your eyes. It’s so like him to be putting on fake smiles to hide just how bad the pain is so that he won’t cause his friend to worry.

Your heels clack annoyingly against the floor, but you can’t find it in you to care to be quiet as you race to see him.

“Jimin!”

“____?”

Maybe you should have knocked. Or maybe you should have texted him that you were coming backstage. But then, you can’t find it in you to regret not doing either of those things because you burst into the room to find Jimin, drained and still in his final costume. That is- a shirtless costume. In your peripheral vision, you register his shocked expression, but your eyes are locked on something else.

Sitting there, just underneath his collarbone, is your name.

Jimin reaches for the first thing he can grab, which happens to be the ice pack, and attempts to cover up the mark, but that only has him hissing from the icy sting on the thin and sensitive skin of his chest.

“You idiot.” Your words are harsh but your tone is nothing but soft.

Sensing the seriousness of the conversation about to go down, his friend excuses himself from the dressing room. But you barely register that either, your mind still fixed on the visual memory of the soulmate mark on your best frie- no, your soulmate’s chest. The mark that matches yours in placement and in font.

You approach him slowly, and kneel next to him where he’s slumped on the floor and leaning against the wall. With a trembling hand, you gently hold his wrist and pull the ice pack away. There it is, skin slightly reddened from the cold, but the delicate swirls of the letters of your name sit crisp and delicate on his chest. Your thumb strokes across the letters, across your name imprinted on his skin.

“When?” You take the ice pack from him and settle it on his swollen ankle.

“Three years ago.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” your voice is soft, your eyes shimmering with tears from welled up emotions. He holds your gaze in his as his thumb wipes away the tears that have spilled over.

“I thought you wanted to remain as best friends.”

A sardonic laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “And what gave you that stupid idea?”

Jimin averts his eyes with the next statement, the boring linoleum floor of the dressing room acting as his anchor as he verbalizes the thoughts that had wrung his heart out for so many years now. “I’m not your soulmate, and it’d be really selfish of me to force you into a relationship with me just because you’re mine.”

Your jaw drops. Then you sigh and shake your head lightly. A gentle tug on your shawl has it slipping off your shoulders and folding haphazardly into his lap. You get the satisfaction of watching his eyes go wide, his gaze trained on the script sitting just underneath your collarbone. The thought that it’s an exact replay of your own reaction has you giggling.

“But I-” he stutters, index finger rubbing at his name as if it would rub off. “But you said? We’re still best friends?”

Then his head snaps up to look you dead in the eyes, brows furrowed.

“Wait. Why didn’t you tell me?” he cries.

“We were fourteen!”

“Since we were fourteen?! You knew since we were fourteen and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I figured it was nothing more than pubescent hormones!” you scoff defensively, arms crossed in indignance. “Need I remind you just how many girls you were obsessed with that year?”

“Just one,” he mumbles and you barely catch it.

“What did you say?”

“It was just you,” he whispers. Your arms go slack as you see the earnestness in his eyes. He clears his throat and looks away. “I mean, I’m sure you know the struggle- what if I’m the only one who feels this way? And what if I lose my best friend because we’re not meant to be?”

The way his words resonate with your own sentiments so deeply reminds you just why you’re best friends. He’s captured your thoughts and struggles so astutely, as if you both shared one mind. Perhaps that’s why you’re soulmates after all.

“Is that why you asked me if we were still best friends?”

All you get is a quiet hum in response.

“And is that why you told me the kiss didn’t have to mean anything?”

He sighs. “Like I said, it would have been selfish to just keep you for myself, even if you’re my soulmate. Your soulmate could have been out there somewhere.” He finishes the thought with a chuckle and a shrug. “But not gonna lie, I wish you’d told me sooner. Do you know how difficult it’s been to love you from afar all these years because I thought I wasn’t your soulmate?”

“Oh believe me, I definitely know that struggle firsthand,” you say, echoing his earlier sigh of exasperation at both of your stupidities. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s beaming as he asks, “are we still best friends?”

You snort. “Definitely idiots.”

“Well at least now I know I’m your idiot, idiot.”

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writing-the-end · 3 years

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LoL Chapter 36- Addows

(what’s this, a chapter on monday? Yes! Starting today and for the foreseeable future, LoL will now update mondays and fridays! Hopefuly it will gain more attention when it updates more often,,,)

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

If the hermits hope to enter the most dangerous place in Lairyon, they need to know about the Forest of Memories. Xisuma, Cub, and Joe venture to the haunted city of Addows in search of information.

____________________________________

Mist swirls around Xisuma, his vision obscured by the thick fog of the city. Old, ancient buildings are all around him, once a city of the ancient ones still alive with the people of Lairyon. Massive stone temples, graveyards for heroes and legends, buildings with no known purpose that now house creeds and clairvoyants.

Addows is a home of ghosts. Ghosts of the past, present in both tomes that the temples and libraries hold, and actual spirits that wander the eternally misty street. No one is spooked by the spooks, just another face in the crowd.

And it’s the perfect place for the hermits to dig up ancient knowledge. If anywhere would have information on the Forest of Memories, it would be the hallowed halls of Addows. Cub creeps closer to Xisuma, not quite sure if he likes not being able to see more than a few feet in front or behind him. He’s sure there’s some sort of proverb that Joe would spew at him about this and the past or whatever, but right now he doesn’t want to hear it. Joe, meanwhile, is loving this atmosphere. The spooky vibes, the aged buildings and haunting people. He could write entire novels about this place, how much it fits his aesthetic. He may just have to build a new library on Eremita to match this. Plus, his fuzzy cloak is comfortable and fits in well with the shadowed passersby.

The three hermits wander the streets, walking through the midday mist, watching as buildings appear from nothing and disappear once again. Joe gets distracted every once in awhile on a witch’s shop, books older than the kingdom, apothecaries with all kinds of rare materials, and about a dozen different colored candles. And lots of rocks. TFC would have a field day.

But after what feels like both hours and seconds of walking down the twisting streets of the ancient city, they finally arrive where they need to be. A building so old that the rain and forest has weathered it down, and a whole new layer of detritus has turned to dirt, ferns, trees, and vines growing down the massive stone pillars. In the weathered carving, the purpose of the ancient building remains the same. It’s a library, the largest in all the kingdom and filled with the most extensive, the most knowledgeable, and the most ancient of works. In languages long dead and unrevivable, written by ghost writers that now haunt these halls, and recounted by the living and the dead that wander the stacks.

“And a delightful young adult section with some of my favorite works for young readers.” Joe hums. “Anything, and I mean anything-” He pauses, letting Xisuma and Cub fill in what he means, “can be found in the national library of Addows.”

“That means if there’s anywhere that will tell us how to handle the Forest of Memories, or what could be hiding in there, it’s here.” Xisuma wanders down the stacks. All three hermits itch to reach out and pull books of their favorite genres or authors. Cub wants to dive into the deep end of the ancient ones history. Xisuma wants to study the great works of the best astronomers. And Joe wants to read the most mind boggling pieces that make absolutely no sense. He loves that feeling of being left confused about what he just read.

They search the tomes, from geography to history, history to science. They search every section- even the young adult section. Cub resorts to portaling around rather than running the worn stone stairs, but to no avail. In the end, all three of the hermits are sitting in an alcove of ferns and vines, staring out over the thick misted city.

“It wasn’t in anything. Has no one ever written about the Forest of Memories?” Xisuma grumbles, pulling off his mask. It’s not like there’s any sun, he doesn’t need his brother’s creation.

“Someone had to. It’s been around for eons and is nestled in the heart of Lairyon. I can think of so many epics that could rely solely upon those two aspects.” Joe speaks with his head on his hands, looking over the library. Where haven’t they checked? “I’m starting to think it’s not even real, just a bunch of folktales.”

Silence, until Cub’s eyes light up. “Folktales! Where do you put everything that you don’t know or understand?”

“In the trash bin?” Joe’s dry humor is not lost on Xisuma, but Cub is too excited.

“The folklore!” Cub summons his magic, a portal opening between the hermits, taking them to the very entrance of the library. The beginning of it all. He jumps through, skidding into a cracked pillar, but the stone is held fast by roots of the forest. Joe and Xisuma follow after, the portal collapsing behind them.

“Forest….forest...forest…” Cub whispers, running his fingers along books, scrolls, even just tablets of stone. “Forest, Evernight. Nope. Forest, Creation of. No…”

He stops, fingers coming to rest on a manuscript. Two wood planks pressing fabric pages together. It has no written title, but the front of the book is a tree with it’s branches intertwined like that of a brain. Cub grabs the manuscript, opening it with fervor. “Godsdamnit.”

“What’s wrong now?” Xisuma sighs, peering over the portal mage’s shoulder. But the symbols scrawled on the fabric are meaningless to them both. Not even Joe, who purveys in ancient and useless knowledge, has no ability to read the book.

“Ahh, The Journey to the Center of Lairyon’s Mind. A very good work. Quite dense.” All three hermits shriek, echoing in the quiet library as a misty head appears through the bookshelves. They should have been prepared for a ghost, but in the heat of the moment, they forgot they were in the most haunted city in the kingdom.

“H-have you read this? Can you r-read this language?” Joe holds the book out.

The ghost steps through the shelves, her hand becoming solid enough to hold up the piece. “It’s old kipling. Before they integrated into one oceanic script. Back in the early days, when Lairyon was just a bunch of warring nations. Ah, the oceans were so peaceful in comparison.”

“What does the author say? What does this mean?” Joe points at the fine print of a page that the kipling opened.

“It’s the dedication! It’s to me!” She laughs, ghostly fin ruffling with joy. “My wife was such a wonderful author, she is still curious to this day.”

Xisuma surges up to the ghost, no longer afraid. “The author, she’s still here? Where is she?”

“Why, I’m sure she’s moping around our gravestone, waiting for me to come back so she can tell me more stories that she picked up from the other ghosts.” The kipling ghost pauses. “Would you like to meet her, or rather just read through this dingy old book? Why not meet the real adventurer Cielle DuNord? Bravest woman ever, only person to enter the heart of the Forest of Memories and come back sane. At least...only recorded person.”

From the oldest library, the hermits follow the bouncing kipling down the street to the oldest cemetery. Sometimes they lose sight of her in the fog, her ghostly figure becoming a part of the mist and disappearing. But it just takes a laugh and a call from Lady Nellaime, her dress swaying like kelp in the waves, and they’re back on track. The misty glen opens to reveal ancient tombs and stones, but Nellaime waltzes through the historic graveyard as she would saunter through a flower garden.

Despite the spooky feeling, it’s not scary. The hermtis feel a sense of calm respect among the gates. Rare flowers bloom at the entrances of mausoleums, trees sprouting from burial mounds. Candles provide light along the well cared pathway, and a child runs by, smiling as he trips and hugs an ancestor’s gravestone.

From the mist, a glowing form appears, hugging the boy back. The ghost settles down in the grass, chatting with the family. Nellie continues past, deeper into the heart of the graveyard, seemingly bigger on the inside. The tombs age the deeper they walk, until Nellie stops at a raised crypt. Carved in the ancient coral stone, two smiling faces rest on their backs, the women’s hands intertwined at the center. Nellie skips onto the tombstone, knocking on the nose of the other kipling. “My sweet Cielle, you have visitors! More fans of yours!”

The eyes blink open, misty blue lashes fluttering. A noncorporeal form drifts from the stone crypt, dress flowing from existing to not, strong arms reaching over and hugging her wife. “You always make friends so fast. Living or dead, you just make people smile. Just like lighting up my life, my little ghost light.”

“Not in front of guests.” Nellie giggles, her fins fluttering from the sweet kiss.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such…” Cielle looks the three up and down. “Unique visitors upon my grave?”

“Are you really the only person who has made it out of the Forest of Memories alive?” Xisuma wastes no time, which causes both ladies to titter.

“No, though I know Nellie here likes to be hyperbolic. Quite a few people have gone into the Forest without going crazy. But you have to be prepared to enter in.” Cielle leans forward, tugging a ghostly finger through Xisuma’s hair like a mother combing a child’s hair.

“Prepare? What kind of spells do we need? Weapons?” Cub flips through the pages of the book, but it’s in a completely unknown language to him.

“You can prepare yourself physically as long as you like, but it won’t do much. You have to prepare yourself mentally.” Cielle taps her head, and giggles. “See, for me, all I had to do was think about my fiancee back in Corelpi. I dunno how, but it was like a walk through a garden.”

“But there is one place that knows all about the Forest of Memories. Where the most people have entered and returned relatively sane.” Nellaime grins, a few locks of hair falling from her messy bun. Cielle reaches over and fixes the loose locks. “Fielville!”

“Of course,” Xisuma slaps his hand on his head, leaving a bright red mark on his skin. “Druids, insectia, the oldest traditions from the ancient ones are still practiced there.”

“The elder there has entered and exited the Forest of Memories more than even I have- but then again, she lives longer than me, which isn’t fair.” Cielle sits back. “But be warned- no matter how prepared you think you are for that wood, it will be nothing compared to the true might of the forest. You will return with whatever trove you are in search of-” She pauses. “Or you will not return at all.”

#hermitcraft #light of lairyon #lol #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft au #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard cub #wizard joe #wizard xisuma #cubfan135 #joehills #xisumavoid #xisuma

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

Text

. half that, at best .

summary : lying over text will get you far. seulgi considers herself quite the catfish connoisseur, in a sense, acting twice her size to swoon her date. unfortunately, that only works if you don’t live with four -- very determined people -- who’ll stop at nothing to pry the good and honest truth out of you.

small note : not an original idea, my role is messenger, nothing more. just here to fulfil my promise to drag the very... *perceptive*... reaadvelvet (whom you can all thank for this delicious torment) down with me. also wow, first time i’ve written about vibrators and they’re... hard to write for. also dirty talk y i k e s. hands up, who can tell i was running on 2 hours of sleep when i wrote this? i proofread later i sleep now.

[cocky(g!p)seulgi x wenrenejoyri]

tw : dubcon, degredation, humiliation.

...

Yerim cracks the door open and peers into her room. The air is so damp and heavy with perfume her nose crinkles and she has to practically swat at it to clear the soft lavender fog.

“Unnie, I asked Joohyun unnie and she said yes to pizza tonight,” she says, leaning into the doorway and speaking into the direction of the girl sitting on the bed hunched over her phone, texting furiously.

The younger girl speaks again, louder this time. “Yah! Unnie. Are you listening?”

Seulgi shoots up from the bright LED screen and casts her attention on her impatient housemate, who’s now standing before her, open-palmed and waiting. “… ngh, sorr – sorry, Yerimie, wha – huh?”

Yerim rolls her eyes. “Phone. Give it. I know you have coupons.”

“… mm, yeah… just…”

She’s so distracted, it’s annoying, Yerim thinks. Both her and her unnies are starving for some pizza goodness out there and all Seulgi can think about is getting her dick wet with her dumb little date tonight. With a final head shake, she looses the patience she’s never had, reaching down to snatch the device out of Seulgi’s grasp.

“No!” she yelps, a little too much desperation in her tone, “… Minji’s gonna be here soon, I –”

But Yerim’s already scrolling.

“Wow, can you stop texting your stupid tinder date for like one minute? I’m trying to – wait, what?” she pauses to properly read the screen again before throwing her head back in the loudest cackle the other girl has ever heard, “… I’m going to fuck you till you can’t walk anymore?!”

Seulgi knew she was going to be discovered the minute her phone left her hands. She hadn’t had time to close the app before an impatient Yerim had rudely swiped it out of her clutches. Still, it didn’t stop the crippling embarrassment eating away at her from the inside out when she heard all her steamy, filthy exchanges coming off the lips of their mischievous maknae. All lies, of course, but Minji didn’t have to know that. She had already come up with a list of excuses for why she wouldn’t be able to spend the night or why they’d always have to do it ‘next time’. But all that seems to be falling apart before her eyes, now that Yerim’s the one with the power.

“Yah!” she screams, jumping up from her bed and frantically trying to pilfer it from the girl who’s too wildly curious to let go. “Stop! Shut – no! Give – give it back, shush!”

Yerim’s folded over on the floor now, clutching at her sides with how apparently hilarious Seulgi’s sexting is. “Unnie – unnie!” she manages between fits of laughter, “how are you gonna do that when you can’t even… you can’t even last like twenty seconds!”

Before she knows it, the whole house has gathered into her room. Seulgi grits her teeth at how Yerim’s obnoxious cackling lured the other four in. They simply observe for the moment, poorly concealed enjoyment painted on their faces, seconds away from partaking in the ‘fun’ themselves.

Suddenly, they’re interested in something else… and it isn’t how much they can get off of their next pizza order.

“Another one, another one!” Sooyoung’s taken to egging Yerim on, who’s more than beside herself with glee. The youngest wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and gracefully proceeds, doing her best impression of what she assumes Seulgi sounds like all hot and bothered.

A red-faced Seulgi, wishing the ground would just swallow her whole, just buries her face between her knees, having long given up trying to get her phone back. Any attempt she’s made to preserve the shreds of dignity she’s clung onto since this whole episode started is about to be torn from her when Yerim opens her mouth.

“A-And… and I hope you’re ready, cause I can… oh my god, cause I can go for ten hours, baby!”

This triggers an entire wave of laughter, from everyone, this time. Not that it matters to the girl in question. Poor Seulgi can barely hear them over the sound of her own utter horror pulsing heavily in her ears. She can’t even fucking leave because Joohyun and Seungwan are barricading the entrance, arms crossed out in front of them like bodyguards. And they’re wearing those awful grins, too.

Seulgi has to wonder if they’d planned this all along… or if they’ve just been practicing their non-verbal cues during their spare time and conveniently leaving her out. Either way, it’s all she has time to think before they’re pouncing on her, all at once.

God, they’re fast. And she’s helpless.

With Sooyoung and Seungwan on either side of her pinning her under their full bodyweight, she’s left with little to no wriggle room and swiftly depleting sensation in both arms. She can already feel the sweat dripping. Joohyun humming a little tune to herself as she scans her bedroom doesn’t help either. She’s searching for an appropriate tool of ‘quality control’, as she so forebodingly put it.

Finally, in an open drawer, she spots the perfect solution, with its cord dangling out far too invitingly to overlook.

When she hears the flip of a switch and the horribly familiar whirr, Seulgi does her best to crane her neck up, struggling to see past the tangle of limbs draped across her and weighing her down. She knows what it is, and she isn’t keen. “… wh-what… unnie… why have you … what do you –”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Joohyun cuts her off before she has the chance to finish. “Big girls don’t need to know what’s coming at them to be able handle it, do they?”

“Ten hours, huh?” Yerim asks in an incredulous giggle from the corner of her room. “I mean, that’s super impressive, so we just wanna see for ourselves, you know? Right, Seungwan unnie?”

Just like that, Seulgi finds her fragile fate in Seungwan’s hands, and she doesn’t seem nearly as careful with it, almost like she wants to see it shatter. “Mhm,” the smaller girl concurs with a nod before turning down to face the crimson one of the girl below them. “What’s a more realistic time, d’ya think? Five? Five minutes?”

Sooyoung quickly interjects. “Five? Hah!” she scoffs, “I’m not even giving her two. Look at it.”

All eyes laser downwards to the tip of Sooyoung’s finger, where -- to everyone’s delight (and Seulgi’s repulsion) -- there’s a very obvious tent in her jeans. So obvious, in fact, that her arousal is perfectly highlighted through the thick denim that has moulded around it to create a very captivating shape.

Seulgi opens her mouth like she has any hopes of defending herself, but the potential words break off into a breathy whine when the faint whirring she hears above her directly translates into sheer jolts of pleasure that rip through her body from her crotch. It’s incredibly difficult, but she squints down to see Joohyun holding a purple vibrator between her spread knees, intermittently running it up and down the growing length.

They all watch as it vibrates her to a full erection, helpless and hard and just begging to be taught a lesson.

“Here’s the deal, Seul,” she deadpans. “Since you’re sooo good in bed… since you’re apparently going to fuck Minji till she can’t walk anymore, I think it’s only fair that you prove it, don’t you?”

Oh… there aren’t words that can possibly describe the dread now coursing through Seulgi’s veins at that prospect, despite herself.

“So, yes, I think I agree with Sooyoung. Two minutes. If you last two minutes, we’ll forget this ever happened. And you’re going to last, aren’t you? You’re going to last.”

She hadn’t even noticed Joohyun hadn’t offered the consequences of her failure to hold out. She couldn’t. That was the least of her concerns, for now, anyway. The sensation of being vibed through her trousers was… deafening, to say the least.

You’re going to last, they said. Seulgi chants that in her brain like it’ll make her last longer, like it’ll help her succeed. But… but she’s not sure she can. No, she has to. No matter what, that’s not happening… she can’t – she’s not going to – cum in her trousers.

Oh but it’s getting harder and harder not to want to. Not when Joohyun hasn’t even given her cock a chance to get used to the tingly sensation, going in at the highest setting to begin with. It’s unbearable, even over her jeans… especially over her jeans.

“… uh – uh – nnie…” she’s panting out, screwing her eyes shut to prevent them from going glassy, “… p-please… please don’t… I… it’s… too – too high…”

Joohyun knows she’s referring to the setting, and of course, does anything but what Seulgi wants her to do, which is lower it… or stop. In fact, the younger swears she feels it stronger now, pressed unforgivingly flush against her straining boner, just enticing her to lose her load right into her underwear. Seungwan’s fingers skim over a flushed cheek, cruelly teasing as she wipes Seulgi’s tears with the pad of her thumb.

“But our little Seulgi likes it high, doesn’t she?” she smirks down at hips bucking up into thin air, desperate for some friction other than the intense sparks of electricity zipping through her from the vibrator. “Gosh, baby, you’re so hard you’re poking through your jeans… poor, poor Minji, hm? Don’t you feel sorry for her? I sure do! If she knows she’s been talking to nothing but thorough lack of self-control and a pair of cum-stained jeans this whole time… my, my, what would she think?”

Sooyoung adjusts her weight so she’s leaning to purr into Seulgi’s ear with barely contained amusement. “Should we tell her, unnie? It’s only fair to the customer… we’ve inspected the goods, and uh… they don’t seem to be in ‘working order’.”

There’s a whimper and then a slight shift. Joohyun picks this up.

“Gonna cum, Seul?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“… hgnh – noo…” Seulgi shakes her head vigorously.

However, when the oldest sees chestnut locks gracelessly splayed across the bedsheet, erratic breathing and probably the teariest eyes in the history of teary eyes, she has to laugh. It’s not like she believed her sniffling Seulgi in the first place – not when she can literally feel her cock twitching under her palm, leaking precum by the gallon. Fingers tighten around the trapped boner, and Seulgi lets out a pathetic mewl. “Oh I think you are.”

“I – no – I’m… I’m – ah! No… nooo…”

“Aw, poor baby can’t control herself. Is your little cock all leaky?” Seungwan’s got an arm across her chest to shove her back down whenever she tries to push up, to keep her pinned as the threat of cumming in her jeans stalks closer and closer. “You still have 30 seconds.”

Goddamnit, 30 seconds? The fact she didn’t shoot the moment that godawful vibrator was in her line of sight was no less than a miracle… how the hell is she supposed to last 30 bloody seconds longer? The thought of soiled underwear and wet spots strikes a crawling heat in her cheeks, up her neck and down her arms. A heat that almost overtakes the one between her legs. Almost. It’s built up to an ache so pulsing, she just can’t ignore it. The room is spinning, and she feels dizzy and heated and it hurts… it hurts so good. The way Joohyun has the vibrator meticulously positioned so it teases the sensitive underside of her cock just right almost off-sets how ashamed she is that this is even happening at all.

“… n-not – a – baby,” she stutters, each word punctuated by an involuntary thrust of her hips against that numbing sensation driving her mad. Every upward motion has the zipper line rubbing harshly over her shaft, the thin fabric of her underwear doing little to shield her from the rough stimulation.

“You’re nothing but a baby!” Sooyoung coos, scrunching her face at Seulgi, who can’t even see her clearly through that sheen over her pupils. “Big girls don’t cum in their little panties just from a vibrator.”

“Ten seconds left.”

It’s a voice, but Seulgi’s so dazed she can’t pinpoint whose.

“Poor Minji, she’s gonna be so upset when she finds out our little Seul still makes messes in her underwear!”

“Nine…”

“Seulgi-ah, why did you bother putting make-up on? It’s not like she’s gonna be looking at your face tonight.”

“Eight…”

Searing rivers of tears are streaming down reddened cheeks because of how mean everyone’s being to her. If it weren’t for the raging stiffness threatening to bust through the seam of her jeans, you’d almost think she wasn’t enjoying this.

“Seven…”

She’s practically giving herself whiplash from how much she’s jerking and twisting, trying anything to escape the stares of the four girls looming over her – watching and waiting for the inevitable with ear-to-ear grins.

“Six…”

Just as she thinks she’s actually going to make the full two minutes, Joohyun slides the vibrator up to settle on the head of her cock, so sensitive, so painfully overstimulated –

– that she can’t take anymore.

The teasing, the vibration, the humiliation… god, it’s too much and it’s making her – making her cum.

Her jaw goes slack and she arches up despite the combined weights of Sooyoung and Seungwan holding her down. She reaches her limit with a tiny, broken whimper as warm liquid spills into her underwear, seeping through and soaking the dense fabric of her jeans.

That’s going to be an orgasm to remember. The high is magnificent, if not a little excruciating, and it leaves her a dishevelled, breathless heap of nerves. Oh but… but her date! Oh no, she needs to regain her senses as quickly as she can and she needs to get cleaned up and she needs a new pair of jeans and –

“No, you don’t, Seul,” Joohyun interrupts her frantic thoughts. “Don’t even think of a fresh pair of jeans right now. You’re already running late. She’s gonna be here any minute now.”

She’s too weak to even protest when she feels two strong arms hoist her up and only wobbly knees. When it’s obvious she can’t walk on her own, they resort to physically escorting her out of her room… past the living room… and, oh gosh… right for the door.

She wants to beg, to plead with them not to do this, but she’s outnumbered, and she knows it’s pointless. This is happening whether she wants it to or not.

“It’s okay, little baby,” Seungwan winks, gesturing to the wetness on her jeans, obvious as ever. “At least that’s one thing you can be truthful about.”

She almost sobs when the door shuts in her face, and it only intensifies when she hears the childish giggling behind it. The evening air feels cool against the sweat on her back and absolutely frigid against that spot on her crotch. She barely has time to shiver and collect herself before she’s holding an arm over her eyes to shield them from the blinding pair of headlights that are now in front of her.

Oh god no. She hadn’t been through enough tonight? But this is what she gets for lying.

She has nowhere to go, and she can only pray that she’s doing a good job at hiding her embarrassment from the pretty girl now winding down the window with a cheery, “Hiya! Seulgi?”

#red velvet #red velvet smut #smut #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #ships? like all of them #also #i sniffed the piece of bread i was eating #and it smelt like ALCOHOL???#um #help?#is this an issue?#kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

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goindownshipping · 4 years

Note

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.” for whoever you'd like!

Hold me closer, please?

Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers (Stony)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: GAH! I loved this prompt, and my brain just ran with it. Thank you for being lovely and enabling me constantly, @ohwereusingourmadeupnames <3

Word count: ~4k

Summary:

Tony can’t sleep and he hasn’t been able to for years. As much as he longs for the closeness of a relationship, he’s resigned himself to flings and one night stands, knowing they won’t want to put up with his screaming and tear-filled nights. That all changes when Steve Rogers enters the picture. Pure fluff ensues with these two softies.

Tony startled awake, finding his throat dry and eyes damp in the darkness of his room. Rolling to face his nightstand, his alarm clock notified him that it was still too early to be awake - 4am was certainly not a humane hour. Tilting his head to glance at the other side of his bed, he was grateful to find it empty, with little to no evidence of whoever he’d come home with just a few hours prior. For Tony, it was a relief to find his bed empty. After all these years, he still couldn’t sleep through the night and he dreaded the conversation that inevitably followed one of his terror stricken nights.

Tony’s anxiety-riddled mind often disturbed his sleep, making it nearly impossible for him to share a bed in any of his previous relationships. Pepper had stuck it out with him for as long as she could, but after too many nights waking up to Tony on the couch, they both decided they needed to move on from their relationship. His casual flings and one night stands made his inability to sleep with another human irrelevant; he could always count on them ducking out before the waking hours. His reputation was known in enough social circles that he didn’t have to worry about people sticking around or trying to get more from him than he was willing to give.

Falling asleep and waking up together were intimate parts of a relationship that Tony had never been able to partake in. He yearned for that closeness, the soft, rumpled moments in those seconds you crossed over from sleeping into consciousness. He could imagine the warmth of another body next to him, holding him through his darkest moments. No matter how much he desired that closeness, his mind betrayed him too many times for him to believe it was possible.

Accepting the fact that his mind was far too awake to let him get any more rest, Tony rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen, deciding he may as well get his day started. As the comforting scent of coffee began to fill his apartment, he felt the sleepy fog start to drift away. The quiet, emptiness of his apartment typically offered comfort after a sleepless night, but this morning it only emphasized the loneliness he tried to bury deep beneath layers of charm and overconfidence. Deciding he couldn’t stick around his home office today, Tony decided to make a rare appearance at his favorite coffee shop down the street.

Just over an hour later, Tony was out the door and pulling out of the parking garage into the early morning traffic in the city. The sun was just coming up and Tony was happy to be among the other early risers. He wondered how many people were also escaping their own minds or sleepless nights. He enjoyed these peaceful moments, watching the sky soften as the sun rose, casting shadows around the skyscrapers that filled the city.

When Tony arrived at the coffee shop, he was happy to see that there weren’t many patrons inside yet. He entered with his work bag, prepared to settle in for a few hours. The staff smiled at him, recognizing him despite his infrequent visits. With a mug of hot coffee and a fresh muffin in hand, Tony settled into a booth in the back corner of the shop, spreading out his materials for the morning.

Time passed around him as he worked through the shop’s morning rush. By the time he finished his coffee and pastry, he had made considerable progress on the blueprints in front of him. He hit a snag in one of his calculations and took that as his cue to stretch his legs and acquire more caffeine; he knew he drank too much of the stuff but he couldn't be bothered to care. He grabbed his phone as he headed to the front of the shop, scrolling through his emails quickly.

The shop had quieted down since the morning rush, so Tony didn’t anticipate the person waiting to order at the counter. He stopped short, nearly colliding with the man directly in front of him. He was facing the register, his back to Tony. Tony couldn’t help but admire the man’s broad shoulders, highlighted nicely by the navy suit jacket he was wearing. Tony could stop his eyes from wandering further down, noticing the man’s narrow waist and how his slim cut pants fit nicely.

Tony shook his head to clear it as the man stepped aside, clearing a path for Tony to order his refill. He was grateful for the fact that the woman behind the counter already knew his order, as he completely lost his train of thought at the sight of the man’s face. He was tall enough that Tony had to tilt his head up to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face. His dark blond hair was long and slightly floppy, but styled enough to be kept off his face. Tony’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the man’s face, which was covered in a thick beard, only highlighting his strong cheekbones.

Tony caught himself staring, but not before the stranger did, smirking in Tony’s direction. Tony barely had the decency to blush before grabbing his coffee and running back to his table, effectively hiding away from the handsome man. A moment later, he heard the bell on the door jingle and he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the man leaving the small shop. Instead, he saw a new customer entering and the attractive man settled at a table not far from Tony’s makeshift workstation. The man smiled in Tony’s direction and Tony whipped his head back around rather than acknowledging the gesture.

Tony was acting as if he’d never seen an attractive man before, which was certainly not the case. Usually, he was smooth and well-spoken, charming the pants off anyone he wanted, literally and figuratively. Tony wasn’t sure what it was about this man that rendered Tony incapable of anything but gawking at him. Lost in thought, Tony didn’t hear the man moving behind him, and before he could do anything to stop it, he was sliding into the seat opposite Tony.

The stranger smiled and stuck his hand out in greeting. Tony just stared, yet again incapable of anything else.

“I’m Steve,” the man said curiously, keeping his hand extended toward Tony.

Tony’s brain rapidly sprung into action, remembering how to interact with another human. He reached out to shake the stranger- Steve’s hand. His hand was large and warm, nearly swallowing Tony’s smaller one in a firm grip.

“I’m Tony, and I swear I’m not usually like this,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Like what, throwing heart eyes at a random stranger in a coffee shop?” Steve teased.

“Well, there’s only so much I can do when the random stranger has your shoulders and a beard like that,” Tony flirted shamelessly.

The next couple hours passed in a similar fashion, both men apparently forgetting the work they planned to accomplish that day. They chatted, equal parts learning about each other flirting. Tony learned that Steve was a columnist at a smaller paper in the city and taught journalism classes on the side. When he wasn’t researching, writing, or teaching, Steve spent too much time with his dog, who was very cute according to the several photos he proudly showed to Tony. Steve learned that Tony was indeed Tony Stark of Stark Industries, an up and coming robotics firm in the city. The blueprints littering the table were a glimpse into his next big project and Tony rambled on about technology that Steve only pretended to understand.

A while later, Steve’s phone rang, snapping both of them out of their little bubble. Steve smiled apologetically while standing to answer the call. Taking advantage of his privacy, Tony shook his head and ran a hand down his face. He hadn’t enjoyed a stranger’s company like this in years. His mind told him to run; he knew his track record and it would be safer to end this before anything could happen. In that moment, Steve returned to the table looking like a bashful puppy and any thoughts Tony had about disappearing flew out the window.

“That was work,” Steve said, his voice dripping with regret. “I’ve gotta run to the office”.

Tony only nodded at that, not wanting to give away his desire to see Steve again. Luckily Steve saved him from embarrassment.

“I’d really like to see you again though. Maybe without all this work in the way,” Steve gestured to the blueprints between them.

Tony grinned and nodded. “I’d like that a lot”.

They exchanged numbers and Tony watched Steve head out the door and turn down the street. He was about to round the corner, but before he disappeared from view, Steve looked back, grinning when he saw Tony watching him. Tony smiled back before returning to his work.

About a month later, Tony and Steve had gone out to dinner several times, grabbed coffee in the afternoons, and taken Steve’s unfairly cute dog for a few strolls around Central Park. If Tony thought Steve was cuter than his dog, nobody had to know. Tony knew that what they were doing undoubtedly counted as dating, but Tony wasn’t willing to call it that yet. They held hands when they walked and Steve kissed him on the cheek in greeting and when they said goodbye every time they saw each other.

Tony told Rhodey about Steve when his best friend pressed him on why he was so happy all of a sudden. It went unsaid that Tony hadn’t had any houseguests recently either.

“You like him, then?” Rhodey questioned.

“Yeah, honeybear, I like him. I can’t decide if I want to tear his clothes off or bundle him up on the couch”.

Rhodey threw his head back in a loud laugh. “Wow Tones, you’ve got it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Tony pouted at that. He knew Rhodey was right and he didn’t know what to do about it. It was always at this point in relationships when things started to go off the rails. Just last night he had another terror-filled sleep, resulting in sweat drenched sheets and tear soaked pillows.

Rhodey’s gaze softened, knowing exactly what was running through Tony’s head.

“Just talk to him Tony. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s just as gone for you as you are for him”.

“You’re right”.

“I’m sorry, can I get that in writing? How about a recording?”

Tony laughed at that and shooed Rhodey out of his apartment. If he was going to have this conversation with Steve, it needed to happen soon.

Tony pulled his phone out to call Steve.

On the other side of the city, Steve sat at home working through the column he owed his editor the following week. He’d made some solid progress when his phone buzzed on his desk. Seeing Tony’s name (and silly face he managed to capture on a walk) made him smile.

“Hey Tones”.

Tony could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, causing him to melt just a bit.

“Hi Steve. I uh, I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tonight?”

“No plans pal, want to grab a bite somewhere?”

“Um actually, I was wondering if you might want to come over here for dinner?”

Tony had been to Steve’s apartment briefly on the days that they’d taken his dog for a walk, but otherwise, they hadn’t visited each other’s homes. Tony was especially protective of his space, and Steve knew this. The gravity of Tony’s invitation was not lost on him.

“That sounds really nice, Tony. What time should I be there?”

“How’s six?”

“Perfect, I’ll bring wine”.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve”.

“See you soon, Tones”.

Steve ended the call and just stared at his phone for a moment. He knew Tony didn’t trust people easily. He and Tony had been seeing each other for a little over a month now and had yet to have a conversation about taking any next steps in their relationship. Tony had told Steve little bits about past relationships and hinted that he isn’t typically the relationship type. Steve didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but the more time he spent with Tony, the more he learned about him. Steve assumed it wasn’t that Tony didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that he'd been broken too many times to believe in them again. Steve hoped that tonight would open the door to something more, even if it was just a crack.

Determined to make more progress on his column, Steve directed his attention back to his computer as best he could. His mind was swirling with thoughts about Tony and all the things he wanted with him. Steve knew he was steadily falling for the man. Tony was brilliant, challenging, hilarious, and had a bigger heart than anyone gave him credit for. Steve only hoped that Tony could see himself that way, too.

A few hours later, Steve was grabbing a couple of bottles of wine and heading out the door to make it to Tony’s apartment by six. Tony had texted him his address and Steve was pleasantly surprised at their proximity to each other. When Steve arrived at Tony's building, he was surprised to see Tony himself waiting at the entrance.

Steve beamed at Tony; he was never one for subtlety. As he approached Tony, he could see the man practically vibrating with nervous energy. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, Steve reached for Tony and pulled him in for a hug. Tony’s arms wrapped around his waist and his face squeezed into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Steve could feel the harsh breath Tony let out as soon as he held him close.

“Hey you,” Steve whispered.

“Hi Stevie”.

“As much as I love holding you like this, do you think we should maybe head inside?” Steve asked softly, reluctant to let go of the man in his arms.

Tony pulled back with a blush, but Steve kept a hand on the small of Tony’s back, attempting to keep as much contact as he could. Tony nodded and turned toward the front door without a word.

They were silent as they moved through the lobby and came to a stop in front of the elevators. Once they were inside the car and Tony pressed the “PH” button, he finally spoke.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said in a rush, as if he had forced the words out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy I’m here too, Tony”.

Eventually, the elevator doors opened directly into an expansive foyer, with exposed beams and rustic chandeliers above them. Steve stepped out, taking in the vast apartment surrounding him. Tony started down the hallway and Steve followed, taking in the many paintings and photos lining the hallway. They entered a kitchen half the size of Steve’s entire apartment to find several dishes littered across the stove.

“I might not know how to make much, but what I can make is damn good,” Tony said as he checked a sauce of some sort on the stove.

Steve set the bottles of wine on the massive island in the center of the kitchen and followed Tony to the stove. Tony was surprised to feel Steve’s chest pressed against his back, his arms around his waist, and his nose pressed against the top of his head.

“This smells delicious Tony. Anything I can help with?”

Tony reluctantly pointed out the cabinets that held his dishes as well where his wine glasses were hanging. Steve gave him one last squeeze and a soft kiss to his hair before stepping away. Steve found his way around Tony’s kitchen easily, and Tony felt his heart squeeze at the comfortability of it all.

Before long, they were serving themselves heaping plates of pasta and veggies and Steve poured them each a generous glass of red wine. Tony grabbed the food and led them through to the dining room, while Steve followed with their wine and what was left in the bottle.

Tony watched nervously as Steve took the first bite of food and smiled with relief when Steve groaned at the taste.

“Tony, you’ve been holding out on me. This is delicious,” Steve grinned across the table.

Tony only smiled shyly before digging in himself.

Dinner was a quiet affair, both men devouring their food and enjoying their wine. They exchanged quiet words about the projects they were working on and Steve rambled about some new toy he’d gotten for his dog.

When they’d both cleaned their plates and finished the bottle of wine, Steve paused. Tony seemed to sense his confidence wavering, which was uncommon for Steve.

“I saw that second bottle of wine, don’t think I’m kicking you out without sharing it first,” Tony admitted.

“Ha, my plan worked,” Steve teased.

Tony only shook his head. “Come on, we can dump these in the sink and watch a movie”.

Steve nodded gratefully and headed back into the kitchen with Tony, happy to spend more time with the man that was quickly stealing his heart and occupying the majority of his thoughts. They set their plates and silverware in the sink before grabbing the second bottle of wine and heading into the living room. Both men stood in the entryway to the room, Steve waiting for Tony’s lead to see how the man wanted to proceed. Tony eventually stepped down onto the soft carpet and made his way to the large plush sofa in the center of the room. He situated himself near the center of the couch and patted the cushion next to him, making it clear where he expected Steve to settle.

Steve stepped into the room, wine in hand, and made his way toward Tony. As soon as he settled on the couch he opened the bottle of wine, refilling each of their glasses. He was grateful for the distraction, not trusting his hands so close to Tony. Once the glasses were full, he grabbed them both and settled back into the couch. He lifted one toward Tony who took it happily before settling into Steve’s side. Steve wrapped his arm firmly around Tony, reveling in the closeness and willing the other man to melt into his side the way he’d been desperate for for weeks.

Tony was stiff for a brief moment, but as soon as Steve squeezed his shoulder, urging him to come in closer, Tony gave in. His head came to rest on Steve’s shoulder and his entire form curled around Steve’s firm body. Steve hummed with pleasure, finally having this man closer than ever before.

Reaching to the side, Steve set his glass down on the table next to the couch; he wanted both arms available to wrap Tony up. When Tony noticed, he glanced up at Steve, and the bearded man’s resolve broke in an instant.

Both of Steve’s hands came to rest on Tony’s cheeks, angling his face further up so Steve could take in all of his features. His hair was soft and unstyled, natural curls falling on his forehead. His eyes were wide and curious taking in Steve’s every move. His lips were slightly parted, tongue sneaking out to wet them the moment Steve’s eyes dipped down to them. At that, Steve lunged forward, pressing his lips against Tony’s before either man could think long enough to question the action.

Tony immediately reciprocated and reached forward to weave his free hand through the long strands of hair on top of Steve’s head. Steve moaned at that, and Tony took the opportunity to softly explore Steve’s mouth with his tongue. Steve tasted like wine and tomatoes, an admittedly odd combination, but Tony couldn’t stop. Their lips and tongues continued to explore each other until Steve had to pull back for a deep breath. He kept Tony close, pressing their foreheads together as they each panted against each other.

“Tones,” Steve groaned.

“I know Stevie. I’m sorry that took so long,” Tony apologized.

Steve leaned in to press a quick kiss to Tony’s lips. “Never apologize for that, babe”. Steve couldn’t help the endearment as it slipped from his lips, but Tony only seemed to preen in response.

“Let’s find something to watch,” Tony said softly. As much as he wanted to continue down the path they started, he knew he wasn’t ready for much more.

Steve resettled himself with his arm around Tony’s shoulders, keeping the smaller man as close as he could manage. Tony grabbed the remote and pulled up Netflix before deciding on the newest original movie they’d released. Before either man could settle any further, Steve detached himself from Tony and laid down along the couch, his back pressed against the back cushions. He left plenty of space in front of him and looked at Tony expectantly.

“Can I just hold you for a bit, please?” He asked shyly.

Tony blushed bright red, feeling the warmth spread from his cheeks down past the collar of his shirt. He nodded quickly and settled down with his back pressed to Steve’s front. Steve’s left arm came to rest over his waist while his right arm settled under Tony’s cheek as if it were a pillow. Tony had never enjoyed the feeling of being held as he did in that moment.

Steve loved the feeling of having Tony in his arms. His entire body was pressed into his own, not an inch of space left between them. He nuzzled into Tony’s neck, unable to get enough of the man’s scent. Tony shivered while he pressed play on the movie, hoping to distract them both for at least a few minutes.

Less than halfway through the movie, Steve could hear Tony snuffling softly into his arm, clearly fast asleep. In an attempt not to wake him, Steve reached for the remote and shut the television off. Tony shifted in his sleep, and awoke enough at the sudden silence in the room.

“Mm Stevie, what time is it”

“It’s late sugar. Let me get you to bed”.

Tony froze at that. Suddenly he was wide awake and terrified at the prospect of Steve entering his bedroom. Before he could think better of it, he was stammering out words that hardly made any sense.

“I, I can’t sleep with you. I can’t sleep with anyone,” Tony rushed out.

Steve paused, not wanting to startle the man in his arms.

“Okay Tony, we don’t have to do anything. Just let me help you to your room”.

Tony’s mind cleared momentarily. Steve was still here after all the truths he’d shared over the past several weeks. Steve knew some of his deepest insecurities and Tony was sure Steve could sense the amount of hurt he’d been through over the years. Despite his inability to communicate and commit, Steve was still here, willing to take care of him and care for him.

“No,” Tony argued. “I want you here. I just can’t sleep with anyone here. Haven’t been able to for years”. Tony let out a deep breath, grateful that Steve hadn’t tried to interrupt. “I get these nightmares sometimes, I don’t wanna wake you”.

“Oh, honey. You think a nightmare could keep me away from you? Come on, let’s get comfy and we’ll take it one step at a time”.

To Steve’s surprise, Tony agreed, nodding and getting to his feet. Steve stood and followed Tony down the hall to the master bedroom. As Tony entered his room, he stripped down to his boxers without much thought and crawled straight into bed. Steve stood in the doorway, unsure of what Tony wanted him to do. As much as he wanted to crawl right in next to Tony, Steve knew this was a slippery slope for the two of them.

Cracking an eye open, Tony looked up at Steve.

“Why are you still standing there baby?”

Steve’s heart absolutely stopped at that. Tony’s soft sleepy voice combined with the sweet pet name absolutely ruined him. Without much thought, Steve followed Tony’s lead and stripped down to his boxers before slipping under the covers.

Tony turned to face him and settled a hand on Steve’s cheek.

“I might wake up screaming. Or crying. Or both usually, if I’m being honest”.

“What do you want me to do if that happens?”

“Just hold me when I wake up. Please don’t leave if you wake up before I do. I hate waking up alone after a nightmare and you’re the only one I wanna wake up next to”.

“Oh sweetheart, I promise I’ll be right here”.

Tony pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before whispering a soft goodnight. He rolled over, pressing the backline of his body to Steve’s front, revelling in the feeling of Steve’s arms holding him close.

When he inevitably woke up with a scratchy throat and tear stained face, he was grateful for the warm, steady arms around him. He rolled over in Steve’s embrace, pressing his face into Steve’s chest, attempting to burrow himself even closer. Steve mumbled soft words into his ear, easing him back to sleep.

“I’m here baby, I’ve got you. You’ll always be safe with me, I promise, love. Go back to sleep sweet thing”.

Tony hummed in reply. As he drifted back to sleep he realized that he’d never been incapable of this closeness with another human. Despite the fact that all his previous relationships convinced him otherwise, all he needed was the right person to hold him close and keep him safe.

Steve’s strong arms and soft words were enough to lull him back to sleep, but not before he whispered softly, “please never let go”.

Tony was fast asleep when Steve replied, “I’m never letting go baby”.

#stony #stony fics #stevetony #stevetony fics #mine

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manlyquail · 3 years

Text

Nerdy Lucid Dreaming

So I figured for no reason whatsoever that I’d share the small story about how I started to learn how to lucid dream as a kid without even realizing what I was doing.

For some brief context, I’m (and always have been) a big gamer. My dad had me playing video games ever since I was young (looking at you Blizzard games), and needless to say I became a bit of an addict. So anyway, with video games ingrained in my brain, there was a day where I suddenly just learned a new skill in my dreams, and it was sort’ve the first step of learning to lucid dream.

See, what would happen is I was a kid that got nightmares quite a bit. Waking up from the cold sweat all scared of whatever happened to be going on (I also grew up on movies like Alien, Friday the 13th, etc. I even saw the opening scene to Fullmetal Alchemist when I was a kid, the scene where they try to ressurect their mom? Yeah, lots of nightmare fuel for my tiny little brain to process). Anyways, it really gave my brain a lot to process, and I don’t really remember any of the dreams because I was so young, except one.

I remember this particular dream because it was the first time I’d ever been aware of my dreaming state, and I was so scared I basically took control almost in a state of panic. In the dream, I was in a really thick hedge maze, above me was all black so no stars or anything, kind’ve like there was just a thick black ceiling above me that was so dark it didn’t even seem like there was anything there. In this maze I was being chased by monsters, in particular I remember Predator being there, a xenomorph from Alien too, and a few other baddies all teamed up chasing me through this maze. As hedge mazes do of course, I eventually found a dead end in the chase and got cornered. So, for dream me it was basically the end, but then the weirdest thing happened. I was so desperate to get out of the dream, to get away from this moment, that a “PAUSE” menu appeared.

Think any game with a pause menu. The screen sorta darkens around the edges, a bright menu in the middle with a list of options and “PAUSE” at the top. It showed up just before things were at their worst, and I was so desperate to wake up from the nightmare that a cursor started to move its way across the image of my dream. It made its way to the pause menu, scrolled down to an EXIT button, and when it clicked it BAM, I woke up. It was so weird to me, and internally I realized how absolutely dorky it was that a video-game style pause menu is what I somehow used to get out of my dream.

After that happened I guess I internalized that ability because I was so thankful to be able to wake up from dreams that it ended up becoming a sort’ve default setting to nightmares at that point. I gained some foresight into when a dream was going to be a nightmare and could simply just ‘exit’ the dream, wake myself up, and then just try another dream.

Since then I’ve learned more to be able to lucid dream, but in my own way I suppose. I haven’t looked too much into what its like for others with the ability, but for me I’m almost just actively ‘watching’ a show at this point. I’m well aware I could change things around, intervene at any time to wake myself up or change the course of the dream, but I’ve become essentially my own checkpoint system. My curiosity to see how a dream plays out before me makes me eager to simply let dreams play out, but if something bad happens to me in the dream, or something happens that would prevent the dream from continuing or finishing in a way I’m satisfied with, I briefly rewind in a sense and let it play out once more but with the knowledge of what went wrong to avoid it.

I have a few other unique quirks about the way I dream, but some of them are honestly a little horrifying to describe, so I’ll put like a TW and a cut right now for descriptions of extreme gore, and like, loss of limb stuff below really quick just in case before I continue on, mostly because I’m enjoying sharing this and figure why not put all my dream stuff in one place?

So something else kind’ve messed up about the way I dream is how vivid everything is. Because of the self awareness I have that everything is a dream, I no longer panic or freak out when something horrible goes wrong. I’ve been eaten by cannibals, had my limbs ripped off, been cut in half, and so on in my dreams before, but because I realize that they’re dreams I don’t get super freaked out by the events. Usually I just roll with the punches, and in most cases, quite literally try to put myself back together.

I remember one dream in particular, I was in a Halo Warthog in the dream and I don’t quite recall where we were going (group of just sorta faceless people I suppose, and it was a four seater without the turret), but there was a crash and an accident and I ended up getting cut in half right at the waist. Horrifying yes, I remember the feeling of that dismemberment followed by desperately crawling across the ground to a set of legs I thought were mind. Through dream logic I just sort’ve planted my torso on the set of legs and after a couple second was able to use them. Joke was on me because I found out they weren’t actually my legs but someone else’s from the accident, but they were already attached so what was I to do?

The freakiest part of it all though wasn’t the dream, but when I woke up I still felt ‘separated’. I’ve described it to some people in the past as almost like a reverse-phantom limb situation, where I have the body parts but it doesn’t feel like they’re actually attached to me. I was so scared that if I lifted myself up in bed my torso would just pop off from my legs.

It’s not the first time a situation like this has happened, though most of the time it involves my hand. Somehow I frequently get my hand lopped off in various ways, usually not at the wrist but somewhere along the palm or even a few fingers. I always ‘reattach’ it in my dream (usually with something silly, like glue, tape, etc.), and the logic in the dream is as long as I don’t move it around too much it’ll naturally just ‘heal’ itself back connected. I think I get that logic from the idea of sewing limbs back on in emergency situations to save the limb, my brain just equates that to “Well if I just find a way to keep the two pieces lined up long enough it’ll all work out!” Then, when I wake up, than translates to me being utterly terrified to so much as flex my hand or move my fingers around too much lest it just fall apart.

It’s the same sensation as the cut in half one as well. Despite the fact I can see my hand, I can move it and wiggle it around, there’s a lengthy period of time where it feels like a cold fog is there instead. Like, I can feel the warmth of my body up to the part where the limb was lost, but then its like this cold sensation where its as if it isn’t really there even though I know it is. It’s a spooky sensation, almost like a part of my soul was just cut off or something. Eventually the sensation goes away with time, but my imagination and memory are vivid enough that if I think really hard about the scenarios I can recall that feeling pretty distinctly. Spooky stuff.

Anyways, that’s about the end of my weird dream rant. I love sharing nonsense like this but it mostly feels like me rambling some of the time, so thank you for indulging me if you’ve read this far at all and I hope it was the least bit interesting!

#dreams #lucid dreaming #graphic #story #story telling #dream story #video games #nerdy #psychology #thoughts

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jeonggukingdom · 5 years

Text

your every wish is my command (m)

▽ Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

▽ Genre: genie!AU, smut, fluff, crack

▽ Summary: It’s Friday night and everyone you know in a 12 miles radius seems to be out and about dancing or drinking their lives away. Bored out of your mind you decide to call out the Genie that happened to fell in your hands a month prior to this very night. You just want some company, somebody to talk to and entertain you but things take a spicy turn when you accidentally make your very first wish and it’s a rather impious one.

▽ Word Count: 13.690 words

▽ WARNINGS: Graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, very light breathplay, rough sex, oral sex, thigh riding, tit fucking, swear words.

▽ AN: I’m going to take a moment to thank all the writers that participated in this collab, you guys are amazing and I love every single one of you! ♥ You were so supportive of each other, understanding when we ran into a few problems and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch to share my very first collab experience with. Thank you, for everything ♥ @hobiwonder - @couture-kookie - @btsflufflysmut - @jimintykookies - @btssmutflufflove - @whichwaytowonderlandep

"Uuuugh, I'm bored out of my goddamn mind!" You huff in annoyance, sprawling on your bed with a prominent pout on your face as the deafening silence of your room welcomes your words.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling, your feet dangling out the edge of your mattress in a perfect imitation of a kid throwing a tantrum.

It is Friday night and normally you'd be out and about having fun, quite possibly drinking your brains out along with your friends, only to regret all your life's decisions in the morning.

But you are regretting this one decision tonight after all so, either way, lots of regrets seems to be headed your way tomorrow morning. Usually, they would come in the form of an incessant headache and the shame for your actions the previous night but, tomorrow seems more like it would be in the form of your friends' tales about the night and all the good—and bad—things you have missed.

Your phone chimes then, right on cue, and you ungracefully roll on your stomach to stretch your left arm forward and fish the device from under the little colorful pillows and covers on your still unmade bed.

In bold black letters shines Doyeon's name, your friend since junior year in high school with whom you have the misfortune—or fortune, depends on who you ask it to—of sharing your college experience with.

The text she has sent you is akin to a cryptic secret message from the stone age and you do not have the patience nor the will to try and understand what it means aside from the fact that she is, clearly, already too intoxicated to even know how to type down actual words.

Your suspicions are confirmed in the matter of a few seconds when your phone rings again, this time with a notification from SnapChat. Dreading what awaits you, you still tap it open and are instantly met with the loud ass music and the glorious unfocused shot of people dancing around your pretty friend.

You can hear Doyeon screaming her lungs out along with the music and, rolling your eyes, you lock your phone again.

Your lips purse into another pout as you scan your surroundings in the desperate search of something at least a little entertaining to do.

You have spent the last hour scrolling through your entire timeline on Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat, and you have reached that bottom point where nothing new is up anymore for you to consume.

You let out a strangled moan of irritation towards yourself and turn flat on your back again, staring at the ceiling in dismay.

With the semester coming to an end and your grades not being as stellar as your parents' would like them to be, you have found yourself on the verge of constant panic every waking hour of the past few weeks and it is that dread that has pushed you to make a responsible decision tonight, for once.

Staying in to study for your impendent exam seemed only rational; finishing up the assignment due on Monday instead of rushing it in panic tomorrow night for the hundredth time seemed smart and, ultimately, getting a little ahead with your mandatory literature reads—like the perfect student your parents would love for you to be—seemed absolutely genius and something you would thank yourself for in the long run. Clearly, a farfetched assumption that has been discarded a long time ago in favor of resentment towards your own line of thoughts.

When you had planned out your evening, it hadn't occurred to you that in the silence of the dorm and with the absence of Doyeon's intrusions in your room, you could be productive and finish up all of these tasks in the few hours between the late afternoon and the early evening.

So now, at barely 10 PM in the evening, you are left with no company and absolutely nothing else to do beside pathetically stare at your white naked walls.

Your phone rings again and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, already sure of the identity of the person behind the receiver.

Without a fault, it is your best friend trying to contact you again in her riled-up state and you do consider ignoring the call but then again, it's not like you have anything better to do anyway.

You barely have the time to accept the call and move the phone to your ear before Doyeon's scream in the form of your name reverberates in your skull.

"Ya'llneverbelievewhadhappend!"

Doyeon's slurs her words out in a screech that hurts both your brain and your acoustic walls, ultimately forcing you to put her on speaker and drop the phone on the bed to avoid permanent damage to your neurotic cells.

Not so surprisingly, though, you still understand the words that are thrown your way and that is because you've had this conversation quite many times before, especially in person with your brain lost in an intoxicated haze and the lack of comprehension skills.

"What happened?" You ask back, honestly just to humor her and see what she'll come up with.

Doyeon tries, she really does, but she can't really describe the picture in her head clearly and even though you give her your undivided attention, the only things you can make-out out of her rant are the words 'kiss', 'Hoseok', 'gottagoBYE'.

Before you even get the chance to utter a single word in response, you're met with the sound of the line getting caught off and the consequential silence that comes right after.

"Really..." you whisper to yourself in annoyance, glaring at your phone as if Doyeon could even see you through the locked screen.

Curiosity has your mind reeling on the infinite scenarios that could link those few words together and your eternal romantic side hooks on the possibility of Hoseok finally confessing his feelings for your best friend.

It is not a secret that both of them have been pining over each other ever since the end of last semester. Well, not a secret for anybody except them. Those two fools have been going around for literal months believing their crush was very one-sided.

"Ugh, why tonight of all nights?!" You ask at the blank wall in front of you, your hands fisting the covers in utter frustration.

You turn on your back, ungracefully landing on the bed, your face flat on the mattress.

"I wish I could turn back time," you whisper to yourself, tilting your head to the side to fix your gaze on the right wall.

Your eyes comically enlarge as the realization comes to you, the solution to your loneliness and boredom shining like a beacon in the night.

Your gaze fixes on your most precious possession lying between your textbooks in your own rendition of a library: a genie lamp.

Looking quite tacky and straight-out of a cartoon for children, the lamp that has changed your whole perception of what is real and what isn't, shines under the lights.

You jump on your feet with the excitement of a kid who has just arrived at Disneyland and with a big smile plastered on your face, you reach for the golden object.

It still feels weird to hold the ancient lamp in your hands, feel it under your digits and trace the outline of the golden decorations embossed atop the teal surface.

The lamp feels absolutely weightless in your hands and even though you're sort of accustomed to magic by now, it still seems impossible for something so light to be able to contain so many things all at once, let alone a living person.

It has been a few months since you have found the object, placidly waiting to be picked up on a deserted beach in your hometown.

It was the crack of dawn and you had been walking the long way home, enjoying the summer breeze and the nice smell of saltiness—the smell of home and good memories and peace and safety, something you miss with your entire heart when you're back in the city, living the college life.

You had picked it up because it looked like a toy, something a child would have lost and also because growing up, Aladdin had been your favorite Disney movie and oh well, even as an adult you still held a soft spot for it. It was, after all, the cartoon that sparked up your fantasy and imagination. Little did you know though that, when growing up, you'd find out that Aladdin's fairytale wasn't so farfetched as you initially believed.

You will never forget the moment you blew air out your mouth to clean up the lamp, in an attempt to make it shine bright again, and watched it spark up to life. You will also never forget the scream of utter terror that erupted from your mouth once a thick teal fog erupted from it and engulfed you whole.

In the span of a few seconds, you considered the idea of being way more drunk than you initially thought; having gone completely insane; having fallen down somewhere, banged your head and ended up in a weird-dream inducing coma.

The quick escalation of panicked thoughts had made your head spin and your heart rate spike up in your chest.

As the fog seemed to clear all around you, you had found yourself breathing in almost normally again, the thought of having experienced a seizure wildly present in the recess of your mind as you took in the scenery anew.

You expected the beach to be in the same state you had left it before you picked up that goddamned thing but, instead, you were met with two doe eyes, staring right at you.

How you didn't faint right then and there it is still a question you have no answer to but you did scream, oh God if you screamed and ran on the beach like a maniac, scared for your own life.

"Why do you scream so much?"

It had the voice of a boy, damn, he looked like a boy but he couldn't be one, because he came from that thing and if you weren't hallucinating, dreaming or, worse, stuck in a fantasy world of your own creation as your body lied peacefully in a hospital bed, that meant he wasn't human.

"Wha-w-what are you?!" The screech that came out of your mouth made him flinch and scrunch up his nose in distaste as he took a step forward, trying to reduce the distance you had put between the two of you.

"Well, if you had given me the time to speak, you would've known by now that I'm a genie and I'm here to serve you." The 'boy' bowed before you, his head hanging low and his back at a perfect ninety degrees angle to show you the respect you were supposedly due.

Terror seemed to dissipate in your chest, suppressed by a fit of laughter that you had no idea whether it actually came from hilarity or absolute insanity. Still, you laughed until your stomach ached, until your eyes got teary and your cheeks hurt.

"What's so funny?" He asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion, his lips slightly protruding forward in an adorable pout.

"You-you said you're a genie!" You could barely get the words out before you were thrown into another fit of laughter, unable to control yourself over the absurdity of the whole situation.

"Is my species something to laugh about?" His thick eyebrows narrowed as he studied you and your scrunched-up form, still giggling uncontrollably before him.

The smile slowly disappeared from your lips as you took him in completely for the first time. His eyes had turned cold, his mouth was held in a tight line, his arms crossed over his chest in defense, his stance rigid and mildly uncomfortable.

"Wait, you're being serious?!" Your mouth opened in astonishment as you stared down at him, "You aren't shitting me, right now?"

"Why would I joke about this?" He looked at you, clearly confused by both your initial reaction and your current string of questions.

"Is this some kind of candid camera?" You looked around trying to pick up on the hidden crew or a camera perfectly concealed somewhere up the road.

"What's a candid camera?"

"What's a can-really?!" You looked at him with your mouth open, your eyebrows knitted together in astonishment. Honestly, who doesn’t know what a candid camera is?

"Oh my God, I'm dealing with a crazy person!" You exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky in an over-dramatic motion of incredulity.

"You screamed at me, laughed at me and tried to run away from me and I'm the crazy person here?!" He pointed at himself, his eyes shining with both disbelief and exasperation over your refusal to believe him.

"You are the one that came out from the freaking lamp! Wait-" You stopped on your tracks, suddenly reminded of why you had been scared out of your skin in the first place.

In response, the self-proclaimed genie pointedly looked at you, his eyebrows rising up to his forehead, his hands resting on his hips as he waited for you to finally connect the dots.

It didn't make sense. Genies aren't real, that's what you kept saying to yourself because, honestly, who would have believed him right away? Who in their right mind would have?

"Prove it." You crossed your arms on your chest and looked up at him, fierceness in your gaze and defiance in your stance.

"Because clearly coming out from a lamp is not enough," he muttered to himself, shaking his head a little before relaxing his posture to lift himself up from the ground.

Your chin dropped alongside with your heart, your mind reeling in the attempt to grasp what you were staring at. He was flying. Like, actually flying and that meant either this was very real or there was something really wrong with you.

You felt the blood drain from your face as he gracefully landed before you, his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk whilst panic raged back on inside of you.

You gulped down heavily, unable to tear your gaze away from him in fear the moment you'd look away, he'd kill you. Which is dumb, of course, in retrospective it is but there was alcohol in your system and fear and panic which aren't the nicest combination, to be fair to yourself.

You blow hot air on the lamp and rub on the fogged up surface with your sleeve, cooing him out of the lamp with the same sounds you would use for a cat—something he utterly despises but that you still do just to spite him.

Nine months have passed since you picked up his lamp by accident and you have been through your ups and downs together, so much so you have started thinking about him as a friend. Of course, he doesn't know this and he cannot know this because you are aware it is dangerous territory.

Genies aren't meant to spend a lifetime with a human, they are meant to grant wishes and move on and once they do, they'll never meet their previous owners ever again.

You know this, he has explained it to you on that very first day and even though you understand the rules very well, there is this part of you that refuses the idea of ever letting him go. It's silly, but the feeling is there and it seems as unshakable as a whole huge-ass-mountain.

The familiar teal fog engulfs you, warming up your body as it enlarges in the air, moving around until it thickens into a living human-like creature.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm a genie, not a freaking cat?"

"Good evening to you too, Jeongguk."

He rolls his eyes at you, his hands resting on his hips as he taps his foot to the floor, annoyance written all over his face.

"Fine, fine, I won't do it anymore." You peel off your gaze from his little pout, turning your back on him so you can sprawl yourself on the bed again.

"You said that last time, as well." He takes a step forward, following you to the center of the room to look down at you, his eyes shining with judgment and a little bit of mistrust.

You giggle as you sit up crossing your legs whilst you reach out a hand for him, sticking up your pinkie for him to catch.

"Pinky promise?" You offer, batting your lashes in feigned innocence.

"I'm not a kid," he grumbles under his breath but still joins your fingers together, side-eyeing you as you burst into giggles at his antics.

That's the thing with Jeongguk: he'd mumble, he'd throw a tantrum like a kid and look at you with ice-cold eyes but he'll always humor you. You don't know if it's because it's in his nature or that is just the way it is but you love it, either way.

"So, what am I doing here?" He asks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes turning into slits as he studies you, "No, scratch that. What are you doing here?"

You sigh loudly, suddenly reminded of your pathetic Friday night at the dorm.

"I'm here because I had to study, you are here because I want entertainment."

"Is that your first wish?"

It has been nine months since you have met him and not a single day has passed without him asking you about your first wish. At first, you just wanted to consider your options before wasting three wishes on trivial things.

Now, you just don't want to watch him disappear into thin air and forget all about you.

"No, dummy, I'm just bored out of my mind."

Your reply sounds lighthearted but you can't really stop the sadness creeping up in your heart at the thought of ever letting him go. You wish you could speak about this with him or with anybody else but you can't. How exactly would you explain genies to other people without making them think you need some serious help? Also, the most egoistic part of you doesn't even want anyone else to know about the existence of Jeongguk and the rest of his lot.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Ah! You won't trick me into making a wish, I'm not that clueless!"

He shakes his head lightly, trapping his bottom lip under his teeth before sighing loudly.

"That's what I don't understand," he says, his gaze so intense it almost makes you squirm on your seat. These days it almost feels like he can read past your defense and it scares you to no end because you know what he will say. He would be right, too, in saying it but you don't want a wake-up call, not just yet.

"Why don't you?" He asks, narrowing his eyebrows as you promptly look away, avoiding his gaze with all your might.

"I just want to make sure I don't waste them up," your voice says. I enjoy your company far too much to let you go, your heart secretly whispers.

Silence welcomes your words and you let your body fall down on the mattress again, your eyes fixing up on the ceiling anew while your heart feels even heavier than it did before.

Your mind drifts off to your call with Doyeon, how happy she sounded in her messy-ass state. The likelihood of her and Hoseok being together right now is pretty high and yes, you are happy for her but also yes, you do envy her. It has been months since you've last been with a guy and it has been even longer since you even felt something for one.

With a pout on your lips you turn towards your genie, still standing at the edge of the bed with his eyes fixed on you.

This is another thing Jeongguk does: he looks at you all the time. He never lets you out of his sight and at first, you found it odd, unnerving and almost creepy but now, after so many months together, you've grown to like it because it makes you feel special, almost cherished. Of course, it is all based on a lie because it is probably in his nature to keep his eyes on his master but, even so, the heart feels and believes what it wants to.

"You know what would make me feel really better?"

You ask after a few seconds, a wicked smile spreading on your lips as you study your next words. Usually, you wouldn't talk about this stuff with him, maybe not even with Doyeon to be completely honest, but the idea of making him all flustered is too tempting to resist it.

"What?" He asks, his eyes shining with the prospect of you finally using up your very first wish. You swear to God, if he had a tail he'd be wagging it like a dog now, looking so expectantly at you.

You almost bite back the words before they can leave your mouth but then, you don't, and before you realize it, they are hanging in the hair.

"A good dickdown."

He looks at you with his eyes big as saucers, his cheeks the color of rose petals and his mouth slightly parted in a silence reply to your words.

You giggle at his response—or lack thereof—basking in the way he looks so utterly bewildered with your sudden confession.

"Well, I'm-uhm-pretty sure you won't have any problems finding someone willing to...?"

Jeongguk scratches the back of his head, his eyes drifting a little away from your face as he tries to get his composure back after you have thrown him so off with your words.

You take this chance to look at him, truly look at him without the fear of being caught staring, for once.

His black hair shines particularly bright tonight, soft and fluffy locks slightly covering his sharp eyebrows in a way that makes him look young and dainty.

His eyes are your favorite thing to look at. They are black as coal but still shimmer as if stars are trapped behind them, they are big and kind and puppy-like and they make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

His nose is round and a little pointed at the end, an adorable freckle is almost hidden under his right nostril and you may or may not have dreamed of kissing it before.

He has a little scar on his left cheek, almost looking like a cut and you have tried asking him about it but an answer has never come your way, no matter how much you insisted on your pursuit. You imagined a lot how it would feel under your digits. The rest of his skin looks so soft to the touch you truly wonder if it would really seem like stroking peaches if you'd reach your hand and simply touch it.

His mouth is a nice shade of coral, small but pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. But then, if you move your gaze you find another freckle under his bottom lip and that is dangerous territory because you'd love to kiss that one too.

Everything about Jeongguk's face is soft and delicate until he turns a little to the side, or inches his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the manly cut that makes your mouth water and your heart beat faster. Yes, maybe you have developed a crush for your genie and it would definitely not be a wise decision but then again, how do you stop your heart from desiring something?

Your eyes travel a little southern, landing on his open white vest with teal and golden details on his shoulders.

Where his face is soft and gentle, his body is strong and powerful and he makes absolutely no effort to conceal it.

His arms are all muscles and veins that lead to pretty hands—have you ever even looked at hands before you met him?—his shoulders are big and look like the safest place to be held in, his chest is broad and defined and surely the most comfortable pillow to rest your head on.

Your eyes drift towards his firm abdomen, your gaze lingering there as you unconsciously lick your lips, incapable of keeping your thoughts at bay as you are presented, once again, with a body chiseled by the gods.

Whereas his pecs aren't the most defined and sculpted once you've ever seen, he makes up greatly for it when it comes down to his abs.

Before you met Jeongguk, you had never seen abdominal muscles that reached the upper torso in such a precise and perfect definition in real life.

The lines that delineate his muscles almost seem to have been airbrushed in Photoshop and, if he weren't standing before you right now and you were seeing him for the first time in a photo, you would easily bet a hundred bucks on them being absolutely fake and post-produced.

You love the little curve of his stomach, the way it looks a little bit softer compared to the rock-hard muscles above it and, to be honest, that's the part you prefer the most: his cute belly button, the way those muscles tense inward whenever he laughs too hard at one of your jokes and, further down, the truly mouth-watering little happy trail of fine hair that leads to the golden waistband of his white pants.

You can almost see the curve of his hipbones peeking through the fair fabric and you have to gulp down heavily in order to stop your thoughts from going there.

You abruptly peel off your gaze from him and redirect it towards his face, a mistake you wish you hadn't done because you find him staring right at you, a little questioning look drawn on his face.

You feel the blood quickly rush to your face, turning your skin so uncomfortably hot you almost fan yourself with your hands.

"W-well, it's not as easy as you think," you finally reply, your gaze fixed on anywhere but him, as you try to will your heart rate to slow down a little and your lungs to breathe in some more air.

"Isn't it?" Jeongguk tilts his head to the side, undoubtedly trying to catch your gaze with his own but failing when you refuse to even glance in his general direction.

"Well no because thanks to you I, unfortunately, doubled my freaking standards on males!"

There must be some kind of magical force acting here because not in a million years you would have said that out loud otherwise. The thought that had been ringing in your head ever since he had pronounced his words magically appeared on your tongue and, before you could stop yourself, there it was, hanging in the air like the freaking sword of Damocles.

Jeongguk sports a little grin on his face, clearly not so oblivious to the way he looks and how it affects people around him and, truth be told, you would give anything just to wipe it off from his mouth.

"Have I, now?" He inquires, his voice sickeningly sweet and thick with something that is not curiosity, like his words may suggest, but, rather taunting.

“Oh, please, don’t act like you don’t know how you look like,” you roll your eyes in response to his mocking behavior, gesturing at his whole lean figure for good measure, “I mean, who even has an eight-pack?!”

Jeongguk is fully giggling at your outburst, his cheeks painted in a nice pinkish tone that suggests he appreciates the implied compliment he was given far more than he’s bend to admit.

He’s shaking his head as if he can’t believe what is coming out of your mouth right now, and to be fair, neither do you, especially considering the fact that you are one hundred percent sober.

Your lips protrude forward in a little pout, your eyes glancing at the door to your bedroom without truly seeing it. You are lost in your thoughts again, the desires that have been repressed for long months burning you from the inside out, fighting to be expressed out loud, at last.

"I just wish I could have sex with someone as good looking as you, that’s all... Is that too much to ask?"

You sprawl your body on the bed, your eyes fixing on the ceiling yet again but, this time, it is to avoid the inevitable eye contact with your genie. It may also be to hide the way you are biting down your battered bottom lip in nervousness, and the way little droplets of sweat have gathered around your hairline, the result of blood rushing to your face uncomfortably so.

There is dead silence in the room for a couple of seconds before you hear the sound of clothes rustling, drawing your gaze to the side to fix on him again.

It is with utter horror that you watch him bow before you, a little smirk on his awfully kissable mouth.

"Your every wish my command."

Your heart plummets in your chest, your legs flying to the ground as you stand up in the span of a millisecond, ready to smash him down to a bloody pulp.

“Wait what?! That wasn’t a wish, you ass!”

Jeongguk rises back tall before you, his eyes glinting with mischief and absolutely no sympathy over the fact that you may just have thrown to literal shit one of your three wishes.

"I’m sorry but you can’t take back your wishes.”

"What do you mean I can't take back my wishes?! I didn't even make a fucking wish!"

You are boiling with anger at the way he so clearly took advantage of your little slip of the tongue, completely disregarding the fact that you weren't actually expressing a wish for him to fulfill in the first place.

"I don't make the rules, _______. You made a wish and now I'm going to grant it to you."

He wouldn't be able to hide the amusement glinting in his eyes even if he tried to and a part of you really wants to punch that smirk away from his face, the evident taunt in his features driving you absolutely mad.

Your mind races with thoughts and plans to get you out of this but after a few minutes it is clear that there is no way out, no matter how hard you try to work around it.

"Well...” You say, your voice quivering a little as you weigh down your options in an attempt to get the best out of what you were given, “Can I make it more specific, then? Or does that require another wish to be expressed?”

Your voice is filled with all the insecurity lodged within you, your poor bottom lip getting trapped under the vise of your teeth anew as you stare up to him, butterflies dancing in your stomach and heart spiking up its rate in your chest.

"I will allow it," Jeongguk says, tilting his head a little to the side like puppies do when they don’t understand well what has been said to them. It would be adorable if it weren’t for his eyes shining with cunning curiosity.

“What about someone that resembles you?” Your voices comes out much smaller than you initially anticipated but there is no doubt he has heard you loud and clear.

His eyes are fixed on you, his lips tightly closed in thought as silence hangs between the two of you.

The more he stands perfectly still, without uttering a single word, the more your proximity seems to become uncomfortable, unbearable even.

With all the cards laid out so nicely before him, there is no doubt Jeongguk has picked up on the fact that you have obviously developed a crush on him.

But even if he did, he decides to not address this but, rather, scratching his head a little he utter his next words:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t create someone from thin air. Genies cannot create humans nor kill them or revive them after death.”

You inhale loudly, your eyes drifting to the wall behind him as holding his gaze seems to become an impossible task from here on forward.

It almost feels like the walls around you are crumbling down, allowing him to see the most private and not-so-pretty parts of your soul. Something you never wanted him to see.

“So... if you can’t create someone are you going to summon a real person?”

You are playing with your hands as you say so, trying to wrap up your mind around genie magic and its infinite set of rules that you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“Not exactly,” Jeongguk seems hesitant as he speaks those words, his feet fidgeting as he clicks his tongue, a habit you know means he’s in deep thought—in this case probably trying to figure out the best way to explain to you how his magic works.

“Well... there must be some human being somewhere in this vast world that even remotely resembles...” your words get caught in your throat as you dare to lift your eyes up to meet his. It feels so humiliating to be saying this, finally admitting out loud the grandness of your feelings for him but at the same time, it is not lack of fine male specimen that has stopped you from fucking around in the past few months. It’s the fact that your platonic crush for your genie has made it impossible for every single human to stand a chance against him.

“I am no human being so, no, there is nobody else like me.”

His voice is deep as he stares down at you, all hilarity gone from his gaze as he takes you down, evidently studying you to the point it makes you squirm on the spot. You have never desired to disappear inside the ground as much as you do now. Would that be an acceptable wish to express?

“I see,” your voice is small, your eyes unable to peel off of him now even though you desperately want to, his gaze locking you in place, entrancing with the stars shining like beacons behind them.

“But I guess there is a way for you to have sex with someone like me.” He says after a few seconds, wetting his lips quickly as he scratches his head in uncertainty.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... you could have sex with me.” He bites his bottom lip, his eyes shining with a hint of doubt you have never seen reflected inside of them and it makes your heart stutter in your chest and traps your voice inside your throat whilst you try to process what he has just said.

“Come again?” You whisper after a few seconds, the words rolling off of your tongue feeling like rocks in your mouth as you try to push them out, all heavy and rough around the edges.

Jeongguk gulps down heavily in front of you, his eyes glued on yours as he takes a step forward, forcing you to lift your head up a little to stare back at him.

“Tell me you have never thought about it.” He says, licking his lips as he steadies himself, boldness firing up his words as he slowly musters up the courage to freely speak his mind.

“Tell me you have never dreamed about me and all the things I would do to you.”

His voice seems to drop an entire octave as he presses onward, his words thick with lustiness as if he were trying to seduce you.

Your silence and the way your mouth parts to breathe in loudly seem only to fuel him forward, prompting him to take another step forward.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the sweet hint of cinnamon he’s embodied with engulfing you whole and your brain starting to get fuzzy with wanton desire.

“Tell me you have never touched yourself thinking about me, about my tongue teasing your sex, about my fingers moving in and out of you.” His voice is rough and husky and it makes your legs tremble with the tantalizing fantasies his words depict in your head.

When he takes the final step forward, all you can think about is his mouth on top of yours, his hands roaming all over you and as he takes your chin with one hand, caressing your skin as he tips your face forward, your heart drops in your chest.

“Tell me you haven’t imagined how my cock would feel like inside of you and I’ll take back my offer.”

Your mouth suddenly feels as dry as a desert, your mind reeling with the infinite possibilities nicely laid out before you—if nine months worth of wet dreams is anything to go by.

You should jump at the offer, don’t even stop for a whole second to consider it and just take it but there is that little drop of doubt squeezing your heart, making it impossible for you to blindly follow your desires.

“Do you really mean it?” You ask in a whisper, wetting your lips as you search his eyes for any hint of doubt hidden inside them, “I don’t want this unless you truly want it too.”

Jeongguk tips his head a little to the side, inhaling deeply before sighing out loud, his eyes closing for a brief second.

“I thought I had made it clear enough with my words,” he says after a moment, his hands traveling down your body to rest on your hips, slightly guiding them forward until they meet his.

You gasp out loud as you are met with his semi-erection, pressing slightly over your core so to not leave any doubts he desires you just as much as you want him.

“I don’t have to have sex with you,” he whispers, his face moving forward until your noses meet, your lips so close they almost brush against each other, “I want to.”

His warm breath caresses your face as he confesses his own desires out loud, leaving you completely speechless.

In the span of a few seconds, your whole world has been turned upside down by Jeongguk again but you do not stop wondering, you do not waste time asking yourself questions you can always get back to later on. No, as soon as the words are out, your lips are on top of his, claiming his mouth like you desperately desired to do so many times.

He gasps loudly as your hands fly to his hair to pull him down towards you, your fingers getting lost in his locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a little forward and welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

Jeongguk tastes like a summer drink: refreshing and sweet and so much more than you ever imagined or wished for.

His lips are as soft as cotton and they feel like heaven against your own, pressing and pulling on the supple flesh until you’re sighing for him, relishing in how amazing it feels to finally have him like this.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper atop his mouth, opening your eyes to fix your gaze in his shining ones.

His lips are all red, slick with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you fear you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.

He touches your nose with the tip of his own, his hands engulfing your butt cheeks a little roughly, making you whimper in return.

His palms come to rest under your ass, pushing you upwards until your legs are encircling his waist and your arms are clasped behind his neck.

In this position he is the one that has to look up to you, his head bent a little to the side so he can still gaze inside your eyes.

If you thought the way Jeongguk looked at you before was heartwarming, now you are met with the raging fire summoned by his love-struck-like gaze.

He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew.

You nod your head yes, holding your breath as your eyes close for him, waiting for his mouth.

Jeongguk’s kiss is slow and delicate at first, it’s drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, and at the same time, it’s precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart hurt and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own.

It’s maddening and exciting and a little bit scary because how will you go about your life now that you actually know what it feels like to be kissed by him, held by him so tight your bodies may even merge together.

Your heart is beating like a maniac in your chest and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, ever.

And these thoughts turn you desperate, they force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own.

“I want you so much,” you whisper and in those words, there is much more than the initial layer. You want to feel him inside of you, on top of you, all around you but most importantly you want him for yourself and not just for one single night.

But you do not dare say it out loud, you do not dare taint this moment with the depth of your emotions in fear of ruining it, of shying him away. It may hurt in the long run but at least, you will have one memory you share together to go by.

Right now, he wants you just as much as you want him and maybe it’s not the same kind of desire but you’d still take everything he has to offer.

“Then take me,” he purrs out in your ear, kissing lightly the soft skin of your neck as he slowly puts you down on your own two feet again.

You wet your lips quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air as your hands immediately fly to his vest, roughly pushing it past his shoulders and then down his arms. You are completely blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his golden skin. No, not just that. You want to taste him.

Your lips attack his neck, all rough and passionate on the tender skin, blooming purple roses against it until he’s softly moaning out your name, his hands pulling you closer so that you won’t stop torturing his flesh in the best ways possible.

Jeongguk emits the most beautiful sounds your ears have ever heard. He whines and sighs and grunts for you, he closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. You can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. God, you desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him.

Your lips are scorching hot against his naked skin and he shivers as you start kissing him along the line of his clavicles, slowly moving south to his pecks and even further, to the object of your current desire: his muscular abs.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to taste the tight and firm skin and he whimpers again at the sensation, throwing his head a little backward as his fingers grasp your hair.

It feels like breaking him little by little and you can only imagine how good he will sound once your undivided attention is finally on his cock.

A wicked smile spreads on your lips as you keep kissing and licking the expanse of his abs, particularly focusing on the supple flesh around his belly button.

Your once rough kisses turn gentler as you keep inching downwards, exploring the trail of hair that leads to the treasure still concealed by his white pants. Goosebumps gather on his skin as your lips turn even softer, barely pressing over the flesh whilst your nose nuzzles forward, teasing him a little with the briefest of contacts.

You lift your gaze upwards, smiling when you find his eyes trained on you, focused on your every movement. His pupils are blown out and his hair disheveled with your previous kissing session making him look already well-fucked while you haven’t even started yet.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you move your hands behind his back, reaching for the firm curve of his ass only to grasp the golden waistband of his pants.

You slide them down slowly, your eyes taunting him as you keep studying his face, the way he bites his lips in anticipation or gulps down heavily at the prospect ahead of him.

As the soft fabric of his pants moves past the curve of his ass, consequently sliding down his legs, you watch him shudder and bite his bottom lip in foretaste and it is that sight that prompts you to look down again, seeking a glimpse at the treasure hidden between his legs.

Your breath trembles as you exhale loudly at the vision laid before your very eyes. Jeongguk's cock stands almost fully erected before you in all its glory—his underwear nowhere to be seen—ready to receive the attention it so desperately seeks.

As you stand up before him again, mouth watering with the prospect of finally having him all for your self, you offer a hand for him to grab. His fingers intertwine with your own effortlessly and it is a simple touch really, nothing to compare with the activities you have been sharing thus far but still, it makes your heart leap in your chest and a smile spread on your lips.

Without uttering a single word you slowly guide him to your bed to make him sit on the edge of your soft mattress.

His legs automatically spread nicely for you as he tilts his head upwards, looking up at you expectantly.

With a soft smile you inch forward, quickly capturing his lips with your own yet again while your left hand slides down from his neck to his pecks, your fingers slightly grazing his skin as you move southward, taunting him with your slow movements and relishing in the way his muscles start to tense more the closer you get to his sex.

He whimpers on your mouth as soon as your fingers graze the surface of his length with the softest of touches and you smirk atop his lips, rejoicing in the way he so easily reacts to your every movement.

“Someone’s a little eager,” you whisper, searching for his eyes with a little taunting smile on your lips.

“Don’t tease, please.” His voice is thick, his eyes big and staring at you in a puppy-like fashion that makes your heart hurt. How can someone be this hot and cute at the same damn time? In an instant, you want to devour him whole, make him beg you to let him cum inside of you and then let him ruin you completely in return.

You take a step forward to sit on top of his muscular right thigh, your lips so close to his mouth that your breaths start to mingle whilst you slowly rock your hips forward on top of him.

Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, slowly gliding upwards in delicate and tentative strokes that will bring him a little pleasure without the risk of you chafing him in the process.

“I want to touch you,” he whimpers out, his eyes pleading as he looks up at you.

You watch him gulp down heavily as your hips roll a little faster over his thigh, you watch his pupils dilate as your mouth opens in a sigh of pleasure given by the nice friction his toned muscles provide on your fully clothed core.

You nod your head yes in response, your breath quickened by the excitement coiling nicely in your belly and he jumps at the chance of finally putting his hands all over you.

It is such a juxtaposition for him to act this way—all needy and submitted to your desires—when only a few instants ago he was being all confident and cocky but it is also utterly endearing and new for you, at the same time.

His fingers are timid as they approach your skin, slowly infiltrating under your shirt to finally caress your flesh and burn it with his digits, imprint his passage on every inch of your body.

His touch is soft at first as he scans your entire upper body with his hands but as soon as he finds the supple curve of your uncovered tits, he turns rougher, needier.

Your hand is still taunting his cock, your thumb teasing his head ever so slightly to draw out unsteady breaths and little whimpers out of him.

You catch up the glint in his eyes as he keeps tugging on your shirt, hoping to make it ride a little higher and expose your entire chest to him, and with a silent grin, you help him get the garment off of you and give him the treat he so desperately desired to receive.

His mouth is on your chest in the span of a few seconds, his tongue playing with your nipples with the same rhythm of your hand around is now fully erected cock.

Your back arches a little for him, your mouth opening in a silent moan as the wetness of your underwear begins to uncomfortably stick to your slick sex.

You gulp down heavily as you still your hips on top of him, your tongue daring out of your mouth to lick your dry lips and slow down the rampant beating of your heart.

He looks up at you ardently as you rise on your feet again, releasing your hold on his cock just long enough for you to get rid of your sweat pants and stand before him in nothing but your very flimsy pair of white panties.

He bites down his bottom lip as he stares up at you, his arms inching forward to grasp your hips and guide you back to him so he can keep studying and mapping every crevice of your body.

He kisses your stomach, nuzzles his nose between your tits to inhale loudly the sweet scent of your skin and you shiver under him, sighing in pleasure at the simplest of touches.

“Can I ride your dick?” You ask in a breath, your eyes searching for his to gauge his response to your lewd question.

“Fuck,” he whimpers out, his eyes almost rolling back inside his head just at the thought of having you above him, fucking him to completion, “Please do.”

You push him down the mattress with your hands to quickly climb on top of him, your legs straddling his hips as you inch a little forward to capture his lips.

His hands are firm around the curve of your ass, guiding your hips up and down to create a little friction between his hard cock and your clothed sex.

The sensation of his girth between your slick lips is already enough to make you sigh for him and as you do he takes the chance to slip his tongue past your teeth and inside your mouth. The kiss is scorching hot, it leaves you breathless and desperate to finally feel him inside of you and as soon as one of his hands is between your legs, you turn a whimpering mess for him.

He pushes your panties to the side and if the lewd sound your underwear emits as he pushes it away from your sex is anything to go by, you must be soaking wet at this point.

He inhales sharply atop your lips, cutting the kiss short so that he can focus on the little bundle of nerves between your legs.

You have been dreaming about his hands for literal months and yet they feel like nothing you have experienced before.

His little circular motions are slow and deep and they make your stomach contract in waves of pleasure.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you moan his name and he attaches his mouth to the base of your neck to suck on the tender flesh and tint it a dark shade of purple.

A sob escapes your mouth as he pushes a finger inside of you, stretching your walls with its dragged out circular motions in and out of your core.

Jeongguk may have looked like a needy sub up to this point but there is no doubt he really knows what he is doing.

He finds your pleasure spots with utter ease and he is not afraid to hit on them with sheer precision to draw all the beautiful sounds out of your mouth.

“I want to fuck you,” you whimper out after a while and he chuckles a little, quickly retrieving his exploring fingers from inside of you.

As he pushes his back on the mattress again his expectant eyes focus on you anew, a little smirk on his mouth.

You visibly shiver as he brings his coated finger to his lips and sucks on the slick digit.

You lick your lips a few times as you watch his tongue dart out of his mouth to keep licking his finger in a lewd depiction of what he would do if that were to be your sex instead of his own digit.

Fire seems to be burning inside of you as you hastily remove your underwear and align your core to his turgid cock, eager to finally feel him inside of you.

Your hand grips his shaft by the balls, keeping it perfectly still as you gradually sink onto him, welcoming him past your slick walls.

He inhales loudly, closing his eyes as you slowly keep pushing yourself down, meeting his cock to its fullest potential until he is completely lodged inside of you, stretching your walls in a blissful way that makes you sigh in pleasure.

You stay perfectly still for a few second, willing your core to relax and adjust to the intrusion of his girth while your left hand reaches behind your back to squeeze his balls and add pleasure to the feeling of your walls slightly contracting all around him.

He hisses at the new sensation, biting his bottom lip to gulp down the heavenly sounds you love to hear from him and you retaliate by squeezing him harder, almost painfully so, until he is forced to cry out loud.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper into his ear as you lean forward to steal another kiss from him, “I want to hear you scream.”

Jeongguk whines at your words, his bottom lip protruding forward into a little pout as he stares right inside your eyes.

“Fuck me,” he whimpers out, his hips slightly rotating against your own in his desperate search for some friction, “Please.”

Your eyes almost roll back inside your head at the needy tone his words are laced with. All the power he has bestowed upon you is making you dizzy, mad with the desire of taunting him until he breaks and begs for more.

You lift your hips a little and then roughly sink onto him again, relishing in the sound of your ass cheeks smacking his thighs and balls in the process.

Tilting your head a little backward you start rolling your hips forward for him, your bottom lip trapped under your teeth and your hands roughly grasping the soft skin of your breasts.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he whispers as he looks up at you and the way you keep taunting him with your hands roaming all over your own body, with the little sighs of ecstasy you emit every time he exhales loudly in pleasure.

Resting your palms onto his pecs to keep yourself balanced, you readjust your pace to a rather rough and bruising one that has you whimpering and sighing for his heavenly cock, for the way it seems to be getting even bigger as time progresses and pleasure arises inside both of you.

Soon enough your room is filled with the lewd sounds of skin smacking on skin, of deep moans and low grunts, of lips desperately searching and finding each other in the blindness of desire.

“Ugh, you take my cock so well.”

Jeongguk is breathing fast beneath you, his sighs turning into full out high-pitched moans that make your insides clench with arousal. Every single one of his words or needy sounds works as fuel for the fire burning between your legs and it makes you even more eager to make him burst inside of you and come all over him in return.

“Am I living up to your dreams?” He asks after a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he searches the answer inside your eyes.

“Yes, you are, ugh, you feel so good Gukie.”

The little nickname seems to work wonders on him as he grunts in response, his hands almost turning bruising around your hips as he starts guiding them down, forcing you to pick up your pace a little more.

“Harder, fuck me harder.” He pleads, closing his eyes while his mouth opens to form a silent ‘O’, the only inkling of the deep pleasure you are giving him he seems capable of showing right now.

You lift yourself up a little higher to plant your feet on the mattress and sink into him harder just like he asked for, desperate to please him and be pleased at the same time.

Jeongguk’s breaths turn even louder—his diaphragm contracting madly beneath you— his sobs a little bit more desperate as his orgasm draws nearer and nearer by the second.

“Aww, faster baby, please.”

His nails start digging the soft flesh of your ass and you whimper at both the pain and the pleasure the roughness provides, his hips start rocking upwards to try and fasten up your pace by meeting you halfway and bring himself over the edge.

The battering speed inside your pussy is heart-stopping, the head of his cock reaching your G spot with utter precision is absolutely devastating and it has you whimpering for him in a matter of seconds.

Your walls madly contract around him, squeezing him even tighter and making it almost impossible for him to resist any longer.

“Are you going to soil my pretty cock, uh?” He asks in a whine, his eyes searching for yours as he realizes your orgasm is as close as his very own.

“Yeah, oh-shit, I’m-I’m gonna cum all over you, Gukie.”

He growls at your words and you roll your hips even faster in response, chasing your release so desperately it almost hurts.

“Are you going to fill my pussy up?” You ask in a breath, mirroring his own question as you feel the wave of pleasure rushing from your head down to your core.

As your walls start to spasmodically contract all around him you feel him getting stiff beneath you, his breath getting caught in his lungs with the depth of his pleasure finally exploding in and out of him.

“Aww, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.” His deep moan is followed by the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of you in unison to the spasms of your core and the one of his release milking your insides with generous spurts of white nectar.

By the time you both come down from your highs you are sprawled all over his body, his soft cock lying between your stomachs as you rest your head above his heaving chest, your legs nicely mingled together.

“That was mind-blowing,” you whisper making him chuckle as he encircles your frame with his strong arms.

His gaze is warm now, softer, and it makes you wish to stay like this for the rest of your lifetimes.

“Jeonggukie?” You ask in a whisper, making him tilt his head to the side with a questioning look on his face.

“I want to make another wish,” you confess, blood rushing all to your head as you tilt it upwards to stare back at him.

“Tell me,” his right hand comes to rest on your cheek, slightly guiding your face forward to place a tender kiss atop your lips.

“I want to have sex with you again.”

“When?” He breaths out, not a single hint of hesitation in his voice, signaling you he wants it just as much as you do.

“Now.”

“Your every wish is my command,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging on his lips as you lift yourself up and slowly make your descent towards his soft cock.

There has been this desire stuck in your mind ever since you undressed him and as you come to a halt between his legs, Jeongguk is made aware of your lewd intentions rather quickly.

His sex is covered in both your juices and a few drops of his own cum. To you, it looks like an absolute feast.

You lick your lips expectantly, pointing your eyes on his face as you open up your mouth to let your tongue do the trick.

You lap at his warm skin to gather up all the spilled remnants of your orgasms and he visibly shudders at the sensation of your scratchy muscle working on his flesh.

Jeongguk closes his eyes as you come closer and closer to his cock, already foretasting the moment your lips will close around it and work it to hardness anew.

You take your long-ass-time though, opting for a rather teasing pace and kitten licks that make him tremble and whine in annoyance when you keep getting so close to his sex while remaining so impossibly away from it.

“You really are a tease,” he mumbles under his breath, his head tilted forward so he can stare at you as you giggle in response.

“And you really are impatient, Gukie.” He shivers at your words and you tilt your head to the side, a playful smile tugging on your lips as you study his features.

“Do you like that? Me calling you Gukie?”

He hums in response, biting his bottom lip as if in deep thought and maybe he is, trying to decide whether he should elaborate on the reason why or not.

Either way, he doesn’t really get a chance to add on it because your mouth is all around him in an instant and he has a hard time breathing all of a sudden.

He whimpers a little as you suck on his soft flesh, your mouth slurping him loudly as if you were sucking on a candy.

“Ah! Damn.”

His abs contract as you suck on him a little bit harder, coaxing his dick to a new erection.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to swiftly lick his head as you pointedly look up at him to study all the little twists on his features, learning what he likes and what he doesn’t.

Your left hand reaches between his legs to squeeze his balls and he whines as you do so, his eyes rolling back inside his head.

You can feel his cock hardening as you lick a long stripe from the base of his length up to his head again.

“You taste so good, Gukie.”

You mumble on top of his reddened flesh before engulfing him completely in your mouth again. Your jaw is slack and your cheeks are hollowed as you suck on him as hard as you can, closing your eyes to hum as his flavor invades your taste buds.

His hands come to grasp your hair, locking you in place above his cock, begging you to not stop anytime soon.

You let him guide your head, adjust your bobbing to his preferred pace and bask in the sighs of ecstasy that come out from his mouth, especially the ones that sound a lot like your name.

“Wait-” he whines after a while, his hands leaving your head to grasp the bed sheets, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his orgasm at bay, “Wait or I’ll come in your mouth.”

You consider pushing forward, bring him to his knees and let him fill up your mouth, feeling his essence coil down your throat and invade your belly but, in the end, you lift your head up and with a lewd pop, you leave his cock alone to stand perfectly tall before you, glistening with your saliva.

“How are you so good at sucking cocks?” He mumbles, more to himself than to you but you still giggle in response, quirking your eyebrows at him.

“I’m a natural talent,” you reply before tauntingly licking your lips. ‘Talent and lots of experience here at college, actually,’ but he doesn’t really need to know that, does he?

“Can I try something, though?” You ask biting your bottom lip in uncertainty. There are plenty of things you have never tried before but have been dying to for a while now and Jeongguk makes you want to explore all of them, all at the same time.

“Anything,” he promptly replies, his eagerness so endearing you can’t help but giggle again. Who knew Jeongguk had this much cuteness in him? Surely you had no idea prior to this very night.

You slowly roll off the bed, your knees hitting the ground as you drag him with you to the edge of the mattress again.

Jeongguk’s gaze is fixed on you, curiosity shining in his pupils as he studies your every movement, eager to discover what exactly you have in store for him.

You arch your back a little to align your chest to his erected cock standing tall in front of you, ready to be the center of your undivided attention again.

Your hands start caressing your breasts, bringing them together to squeeze his sex between them and give it a nice deep stroke.

Jeongguk’s breath trembles, his body shuddering at the new sensation and you look up at him earnestly, trying to adjust your pace to something that will bring him real pleasure.

You tilt your head a little forward as you gather some saliva in your mouth to coat his cock with in the absence of lube.

Jeongguk seems to find the visual particularly exciting as he grunts at the image depicted before him.

A smile spreads on your lips as a new idea surfaces in your mind, then.

You spread your legs a little further to stabilize yourself on the ground while bending your neck all the way forward, ready to welcome the head of his cock inside your mouth with each passing stroke of your tits.

"Oh, fuck." Jeongguk's high-pitched whine encourages you further, prompting you to set on a pace that is bound to make him crumble in the span of a few minutes.

Maybe it's because you told him not to hold back earlier or maybe he is just incapable of gulping down all of his lovely sounds but, yet again, Jeongguk is turned into a whimpering and moaning mess and each one of his little mewls makes your walls contract on thin air.

You unconsciously start bringing your legs closer to rub your thighs against each other, hopelessly seeking for a little friction on your neglected core.

Your arousal is dripping down your sex, coiling in big rivulets on your inner thighs, making them slick and slippery.

"I'm-" Jeongguk wets his dry lips, his pants already giving away what he is trying to say but you do play innocent, pretending not to know what exactly you are doing to him.

"Do you want me to come like this?" He asks in a breath, his hands fisting the covers while the muscles of his thighs contract in the effort of keeping himself steady.

Your mouth turns a little rougher on the head of his cock, your silence perfectly proving your point.

"I-ah! I want to make one of your wet dreams r-real" He confesses in a whine, his eyes closing and eyebrows furrowing with the incessant waves of pleasure that keep rushing over his body, menacing to bring him down.

"Is this what you dreamt of? Me coming in your mouth like this?"

You slow down your movements, your mouth leaving his cock again as you ponder his words. The answer would be no, actually. You had never dreamed about doing this with him and despite the excitement of the act, you do have to admit that what he is offering right now sounds far more tempting.

"Not exactly," you confess, your voice a little hoarse.

"Tell me," his voice suddenly turns sharp, losing all the needy and sweet tone he stuck with for the rest of the night and transforming into something more demanding.

You can't help but shiver at his sudden character switch and he is quick to catch up on it, to the way you instantly start biting down your bottom lip at his words.

His once gentle hands turn hard on your body as he lifts you up only to roughly throw you on the bed.

He climbs on top of you with no hesitation, fire burning in his eyes as he kisses your lips with a new-found fervor.

You whimper in the kiss, your fingers grasping his sweaty locks of hair to pull him even closer and feel his erection pressed atop your core.

"You like it a little rough, don't you?" He asks, his voice husky as he puts a hand around your neck, slightly pressing over your carotid to cut down the oxygen income.

"I-I do," you reply, your bottom lip trembling with excitement as he rolls his hips on top of yours.

This Jeongguk is the one that has been haunting your dreams ever since you met him but, after discovering his other side too you find yourself unable to decide which side you actually prefer: the one that likes to be teased, tortured and submitted or the one that loves to be rough, dominate and break his partner.

He pries your legs open with his hands, his mouth sliding down your neck so he can bite the tender flesh and leave his mark there, in plain sight.

The pain is sharp for a second, making you yelp, but as warmth spreads over your skin it is quickly subdued by pleasure and the feeling of his tongue lapping the battered skin.

Jeongguk slides his cock inside of you with one swift movement right in that moment and you whimper at the sudden feeling of being filled again by his rock-hard length.

Your eyes close as he keeps pushing deeper inside of you, seemingly only satisfied when he is completely lodged inside of you and ready to fuck your brains out.

Jeongguk's strokes are slow, dragged out to the point it makes you want to scream in frustration. He almost slides his cock completely out of you and then slams it right back in with one single stroke, making you jump as he hits the perfect spot with maddening precision.

You know he is doing this on purpose to get back to you and make you beg for it just like you did with him. Still, you don't give him the satisfaction of bringing you over the edge this easily, this quickly.

You endure it, closing your eyes and grasping the crumpled bed covers, biting your bottom lip to hide any sign of both pleasure and frustration.

"You want to play though, uh?" He asks as he fists your hair, forcing your head to lift off the bed and directly face him, "Two can play this game, baby."

A wicked smirk appears on his features making you shiver in anticipation, his eyes glinting with mischief as he lets go of your head only to focus on his cock, slowly moving in and out of your slick core.

His hands find purchase under your ribs, guiding you forward until your legs are resting on his shoulders and he has complete access to your sex.

With the new position, he wastes absolutely no time to slam inside of you with all the strength he is capable of, instantly making you mewl in pleasure.

You try to bite your bottom lip again, you try to gulp down all the sounds you want to emit out loud but as he starts pounding inside of you, it proves to be an impossible task.

The taste of blood fills your mouth as the tender flesh breaks under the vise of your own teeth and you are forced to let go of the poor battered flesh, consequently giving up your resolve of not showing him how much you are enjoying this change of scenario.

Without a force helping you contain your moans, they flood out of you like water from a broken dike and they quickly fill the room alongside his grunts and the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin.

He pushes himself forward, bringing your legs with him so that you are almost folded in half, unable to escape his bruising pace inside of you.

"Jeongguk," you whimper out for him, your eyes searching his dark pools as your chest starts to heave with your panting breaths.

He rolls his hips harder into you in response, making your eyes roll back inside your head, your jaw turning slack as your mouth opens in a silent moan of pleasure.

You feel your walls starting to spasm, your legs quivering a little with your incumbent release and you start to fear he might retreat, edge you and denial your orgasm in order to make you cry out loud and beg him to let you come but what he does, instead, is roll his hips faster and throw you over that edge completely.

Your ears start ringing as the orgasm fully takes over your thoughts, blanketing them with white cotton.

His cock still hammers inside of you, milking your orgasm incessantly, ready to throw you back into it as soon as it seems like it has washed out of you.

It almost feels like too much having him still inside you like this, battering your pleasure spot so tirelessly but the slight discomfort gets washed away by bliss again in the span of a few seconds.

"Fuuuck," you whimper out, the word dragged out by your ragged breath.

His mouth finds yours again at this moment, ready to completely steal your breath away and leave you absolutely breathless.

Slowly, he draws a little backward, allowing your legs to fall on top of his as he repositions himself, turning you a little to the side so that he can rest right behind you.

You immediately turn your head behind your back, eager to keep your eyes on him and watch him come inside of you for the second time tonight. You do not want to miss a single twist in his features as he keeps fucking you like this.

His hands keep you firmly in place as he resumes his pace inside of you, effort and arousal painted all over his features as he chases his own release.

Even when he is being rough like this, bent on breaking you into pieces, he is letting out those heavenly sounds that captivated you in the first place tonight.

They are absolutely intoxicating, they ring like music to your ears and if you could hear a single sound for the rest of your life it would be exactly this: his moans and the sound of your name on his lips.

You can sense his orgasm nearing by the way his hips start losing their perfect pattern, by the way his breath is hitting your ear more rapidly and by how more high-pitched his moans are turning as time progress.

You purposefully contract your walls around him, making him grunt at the sensation, giving him that slight more push towards the verge of his release.

One of his hands lets go of your hip to travel forward, his fingers quickly finding your clit to draw large and deep circles over the bundle of nerves to bring you over the finish line in unison with him again.

The arousing sensation makes it hard for you to stop your hips from eagerly rolling onto his, following the movement of both his hand on your sex and his cock inside of you.

He comes inside of you with a low and deep moan that makes your walls contract and your mouth moan loudly for him in return.

Your body quivers for the third time tonight before turning into absolute jelly, shutting down in defeat.

Silence engulfs you whole and for a moment you think you may actually drift off to sleep like this, with the warmth of Jeongguk's body behind you and the reassurance of his presence by your side.

It is actually him that stirs you back into consciousness, bringing you closer to his chest so that his lips can brush against your ear.

"Was that how dream-Jeongguk did it?" He asks, chuckling a little over his own question.

You turn inside his embrace so that you can face him and shake your head no with a little smile on your lips.

"No, this Jeongguk is actually better."

His smile is full of pride as he steals a quick kiss from your mouth.

It is so endearing to watch him get back to his more cute side but again, it makes your heart hurt. As you rest like this, looking up at him, the misery of your situation awakens back inside of you.

There is no doubt by now that you have feelings for this boy right here, very big ones at that, and it is something clearly impossible, something you have to forget and pretend like it never existed.

It is with that fear of tomorrow in mind that you open up your mouth again, your eyes shining with the menace of tears.

Jeongguk seems to read your mind again tonight as he quickly presses his finger on top of your mouth.

"Don't. Don't say it."

His eyes turn serious as he stares down at you, all warmth and banter quickly disappearing from his features.

"Don't waste your last wish on me." He adds, his voice thick with emotion as he gulps down heavily, almost as if he were fighting against tears himself.

"Once your last wish is fulfilled I'll have to go back inside the lamp and we will never get to see each other again."

You nod your head a little because he has already explained this to you, yet, you still want to make another wish, extend this moment for as long as possible, rejoice in it while it lasts.

Jeongguk shakes his head no a few times, hugging you closer as if afraid you'd disappear in front of him when, actually, it would be him turning into a teal fog before your very eyes, leaving you alone to deal with a broken heart.

"There is no need to make a wish when I'd gladly stay here with you for as long as you'll want me to."

His left hand caresses your head lovingly, his eyes pleading you to let him finish, to not shatter this moment and turn it into your last one together.

"And I'll gladly make love to you whenever you want to and not because a wish binds us together, but because I want it too."

Before you know it, there are tears falling on your cheeks, turning your vision hazy as the real meaning behind his words finally hits you.

All this time, you had no idea. You didn't know that his eyes were always on you because he couldn't look away; you didn't know that he kept asking about your wishes not because he wanted to move on but because he was afraid of doing so; you didn't know that when he was granting you that first wish he was actually granting himself his own.

"Don't cry," he whispers on your lips, his thumbs drying your hot skin as a smile finally spreads on your lips.

It is happy tears that keep flooding from your eyes because it feels like a dream, a fantasy you'll have to wake up from eventually but it is not. Not this time.

And tonight, Jeongguk makes you his again but this time it is slow, gentle and sweet; this time he keeps whispering loving words inside your ears and kissing your lips to steal away all your beautiful whimpers and make them his own. This time, as you come together in each other's embrace, there is more than passion shining in your eyes. There is love.

#btssmutclub #btswritersguild #kwordsmiths #bangtanbookclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Some Kind of Drug

Summary: Michael deals with his rejection in a much different way than most other people.

Word Count: 2548

A/N: Welcome back to Mad Love, friends! Sorry it’s taken so long, but life happens. Hopefully I’ll be able to post this now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, and if you enjoyed I would love if you would like, comment and reblog. Shoot me an ask about this, my other works, or just anything!

(p.s....cw for blood ritual)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE | Read Everything All At Once (part ten) HERE | Read Try (Just a Little Bit Harder) (part eleven) HERE

Flickering candles cast long shadows on the walls of the chamber as Michael moves around, making sure that everything’s in the exact position he needs it to be in order to conduct his ritual. Communicating with his father in this way is not new to him, but it is something that he’s neglected since you came into his life. Now, however, Michael’s done playing your games. He’s been patient with you, allowing you to determine the speed of the relationship. Sooner or later, he figured, you would stop fighting what your soul knows to be true and give into him. Obviously, he had vastly underestimated you.

He hardly flinches as he makes deep cuts down the length of his arms, watching with silent concentration as the thick blood quickly starts to pool on the ground beneath him. Falling to his knees, he starts to use the blood to paint an upside-down pentagram. The movements are almost robotic-like now, becoming second nature after so many years. The Latin that Michael’s chanting falls off of his lips with ease, the words echoing through the empty air.

“May you rise from the void, Father,” Michael says, switching to plain English as he begins to complete the summoning. “May your darkness guide me, power in Satan to overcome my weaknesses. Power in your name, strong within.”

A humming, high-pitched and ceaseless, sounds in Michael’s ears as his vision dances with spots. Every single sense is being assaulted as his demonic, Satanic nature takes the wheel. The candles begin to roar with each second that passes, the fervor building in Michael’s veins as he waits with bated breath for Satan to arrive. The bloody pentagram bubbles underneath him as the height of the flames reaches to the ceiling, unchanged by the sudden wind that whips through the room. When the wind stops just as unexpectedly as it started, the air growing stiflingly still, Michael looks up with pitch black eyes.

“Ave Satanas.”

To the normal human eye, nothing is in the chamber with Michael. To the son of Satan, however, his father stands just behind him, a ghost-like touch on his shoulder as he whispers into the ear of his son, the same ear that’s burned with the Mark of the Beast. The humming starts up again, but to Michael it registers as words.

“Father,” he calls, “I request your guidance! You’ve...tortured me with these images, visions of a future that I will have.”

He’s been plagued with these visions for months now, long before Ms. Mead stuck that needle into your neck. They often come to Michael in the form of dreams, but he has been known to collapse to the floor as he’s taken over by a premonition. They’re always vivid, and they’re always of you and Michael. Michael, holding you as a husband should hold his wife.

Kissing you.

Making love to you.

In his visions, you rule alongside him. The new world has been ushered in, with Michael as its king and you as its queen. You love each other unconditionally, just as it should be. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

(Usually, he’s holding onto at least one curly-haired blonde cherub, and you’re almost always pregnant with another. That desperate need for a family, however, can wait. First, he needs to win over your mind.)

“Her will is strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. Our souls were created for one another, yet she continues to deny what is inevitable. The bonding ritual from the night of our wedding was a failure, and she continues to spurn any of my advances. I’m lost, Father. How am I supposed to complete your plans if I do not wholly have the one person who is supposed to be at my side during all of this?”

“Perhaps something more...permanent?” Satan’s voice sounds preternaturally deep in Michael’s ear, and he has to hide a shiver.

“I promised (Y/N) that I wouldn’t use magic on her without her permission.”

“And you won’t.” Michael’s arm is raised by an invisible force, palm facing upwards as his hand is outstretched. An apple, bright red and almost perfectly shaped, appears in his grip.

“I don’t understand what this will help with.”

Satan remains silent, allowing a vision to play out in front of Michael’s eyes as a response. Michael watches as you appear in front of him, silently asking for the apple with a familiar tilt of your head. He hands it to you, your shimmering mirage-like form holding it as if you’re actually there. You take a large bite out of the apple, Michael nearly moaning as he watches the juice dribble past your full lips and down your chin in a near-erotic scene.

There’s no sound coming from you as you gasp, the apple landing heavily on the ground. Your expression changes, and you blink rapidly, as if trying to see through a thick fog. When your eyes meet Michael’s, you smile softly. Michael’s frozen, enraptured as you approach him and sit in his lap, not at all bothered by his lack of clothes. Your arms loop around his neck, and Michael can almost feel the heat of your breath as you begin to lean in. Right as your lips are about to connect with his, you disappear as suddenly as you appeared.

“So it’s--” Michael’s chest is heaving, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“Nothing that will harm her. One bite of this apple and she will be yours, my son. Body, mind, and soul.”

Michael could almost just take the apple and run, but something is stopping him. “That’s still using magic on her, whether or not it’s mine.”

“I bring a gift for you, and this is how you repay me? With ignorant questions and flippant reactions?”

“No Father, I’m extremely grateful.”

“Then take the gift. If anything, do not think of this as magic. Think of it--”

The dream (or maybe a nightmare) is the kind that’s forgotten as soon as you shoot up in bed with a gasp. You know that it was extremely vivid, your heart still pounding as you grab your phone to turn your alarm off, but you can’t remember the specifics. Lots of candles and Michael are the only things you’re sure were a part of your dream, but those could be used in any setting. Michael knocking over a candle and setting the house on fire? Celebrating Michael’s birthday? Lighting fireworks with Michael?

You shake your head, hoping maybe that will clear the fuzzy feeling in your brain like it clears an Etch-a-Sketch. You’re disoriented, like you slept for twenty hours instead of the eight or so that you normally do. Intense dreams tend to do that to you, so you’re careful with yourself as you crawl out of bed and head for the shower.

Even after you’ve washed the remnants of a restless sleep off of you, you still feel...off. You’re not sure if it’s related to the dream that you can’t remember, but you just feel weird today, like the world’s just slightly tilted on its axis and you’re the only one who notices it. Staring at your face in the steamed-over mirror as you comb through your hair, you frown slightly at yourself.

“Get it together, (Y/N),” you mutter to your reflection, watching as she says the words back to you at the same time. Swiping a towel over the mirror to clear it up, you shoot a couple of half-hearted finger guns at yourself before deciding that you need to stop procrastinating before you’re late.

Michael, surprisingly, is leaning against the counter when you make your way into the kitchen. Normally he’s already in his office by this time, so to see him eating a bagel while scrolling through his phone is jarring.

“Um, good morning?” you say, thrown off by this change in his ever-strict schedule. He must not have heard you come in, because he jumps when you greet him.

“(Y/N)!” He straightens up, trying to act like you didn’t just scare him. “You really are getting better at sneaking up on me.”

“Damn, and I wasn’t even trying.” You jokingly shoulder check him as you pass by, hearing him snicker under his breath.

“Do you nanny the two girls today?”

“No, I have to meet with my advisor on campus.”

“I thought class didn’t start for another couple of weeks?”

“It doesn’t, and please don’t remind me,” you groan, looking forlornly into the fridge. “This summer went by way too fast, I feel like I didn’t even get to do anything!”

“You would have been able to enjoy your summer if you had heeded my advice and not taken a job,” Michael points out, falling silent when you shoot him a withering glance.

“You may be the Antichrist, but I’ll still kick your ass if given the chance.” There’s nothing that appeals to you in the fridge, so you begrudgingly shut the door and look around for something that you can eat quick before running off to campus. “What are you up to today? Meeting with Putin?”

“The ghost of Josef Stalin, actually.” Michael smiles when you laugh loudly.

“Ah, well, be sure to break the bad news of the fall of Communism gently.”

“I’ll try, but my Russian’s pretty basic, at best.”

Nodding as if you understand the downfalls of only being passing in the Russian language, your eyes fall on the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. Although all of the fruit looks pretty appetizing, the particular apple sitting at the top is practically calling your name. It’s shiny and bright red, and looks as if it was just picked out of a tree. The feeling that something’s off returns with a full force, making you pause right as you’re about to grab the apple. Figuring that you’re just hungry, you shake it off and take the fruit from the bowl.

Running it under some water, you look at Michael with a questioning glance when you feel him staring at you. “Do you have a problem with me eating this apple?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he says quickly. “Just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“O...kay?” He still watches you as you turn the water off, shaking the apple dry and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. Why?”

“You just seem off today. Then again, maybe it’s the moon or something, because I’ve felt weird all morning, too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I had a really vivid dream last night, and I still haven’t been able to get over it.”

“Hmm, what was it about?” Michael’s mind is fighting a battle with his nature as he anxiously watches you toss the apple in the air before setting it down on the counter to grab a glass of water.

“That’s the thing, I don’t remember. All I remember is that it involved you and some candles.” Michael’s pretty sure his heart stops, automatically knowing that you somehow inadvertently had a front-row seat to the ritual with his father. “I don’t know, maybe it involved you setting the house on fire?”

“Why would I ever set the house on fire?”

“Hey, I never said you did it on purpose! You could’ve dropped a candle? Can’t you light things on fire with your magic? Maybe you just got too excited.”

“Okay, you’re making me nervous talking about the different ways I could burn the house down.” He’s nervous for a few reasons right now, but you don’t need to know that.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get nervous,” you tease.

For Michael, the next two seconds happen slow enough to make it feel like two minutes. He watches as you raise the apple to your mouth, heart jumping in his chest with a mix of glee and horror. Finally, it’s happening. He should be happy about this; he is happy about this, but he can’t deny how he guilty he feels. Still, he attempts to argue with himself, it’s not like you’re forcing her to love you. You’re just helping her to see what her soul knows.

But I’m making her feel that before she’s ready to acknowledge it, he fires back.

She’s had months now to acknowledge it! It’s time to speed things along.

The time that Michael spends debating with himself, he finds, is precious time lost. Instead of coming to a decision, you make the decision for him by biting into the apple. He stifles a gasp, feigning a cough instead as he waits for the inevitable to occur. The inevitable, however, occurs much slower than he was led to believe. One, two, and three bites are taken before Michael remembers how to speak.

“(Y/N)?” he asks cautiously.

“Yeah?” He’ll forgive the fact that you talked with food in your mouth this time, since there are bigger worries at hand.

“Are you...feeling alright?” You eyes widen, and Michael’s sure that the magic’s taken effect.

Then, you roll your eyes. “Perfectly fine, unless you poisoned the apples a la Snow White?”

“I was just curious.” You shake your head slowly, obviously not believing him.

“And I thought I was going to be the weird one today,” you mutter under your breath, checking the time and grabbing your bag like you would any other morning. “I gotta go. Don’t light the house on fire while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’m not planning on it,” Michael says, still in disbelief that you’re acting completely normal.

With a cheeky smile and a sarcastic wave, you’re out the door with a “bye, Mikey!” He doesn’t even bother to correct you on the nickname, standing in the kitchen in a frozen stupor as he tries to figure out what just happened.

Michael rushes over to the fruit bowl, unsure of if you grabbed the wrong piece of fruit or if you’re just impervious to any sort of mind-affecting magic. Flipping the bowl over, the various apples and oranges scatter across the counter. He allows the tendrils of his magic to extend out like extra limbs, hands grasping for each apple that he can find. Finally he feels it, the magic that fully coats the apple as if it’s caramel being drizzled on top. Michael cries out in relief, examining the apple to make sure it really is the one that was given to him by his father.

With one look, the apple’s incinerated until there’s nothing but a small pile of ashes in Michael’s hand. He turns on the faucet, washing his hands of the ashes and keeping the water running until he’s sure that any trace of the rotten plan is down the drain, both figuratively and literally. Leaning against the counter, Michael flicks his wrist to put the bowl back on the counter like nothing ever happened.

He got lucky this time. Satan influences Michael, injecting himself into his son’s veins and manipulating him until he’s something he doesn’t recognize, something villainous and evil. He almost let the Devil do it again, only this time it involved you. “Never again,” Michael mutters, determined to escape the clutches of his father.

Evil, however, comes in many different forms.

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines

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choisansexual · 4 years

Text

“My Cousin’s Best Friend”

For: @atinypiratequeen Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem Reader Genre: Realism/Angst/Smut+ Word Count: 4327 POV: second person POV

Preview: You blinked twice. Then a third time. A fourth. All the air in your lungs suddenly felt like water. Your eyes narrowed. No… fucking… way. Were you dreaming? You were definitely dreaming. Right? No. A doppelganger! Had to be. Because there was absolutely, positively, just… no fucki-- “Hey… nice to meet you. I’m Kim Hongjoong. Well… Hongjoong… or just Joong, is fine, too.” Perfectly articulated english. Fuck…!

“Damnit! Okay, stop. Stop! … Arghhhh, shit!”, you exclaimed loudly as moments of light alternated with pitch blackness. The deep rumbling of thunder followed sharp flashes of lightning as the rain pelted the roof like bullets. The scrolling marquee across bottom of the television screen, read in bold print, warnings of the storm. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”, you paused in the middle of the living room staring at the screen momentarily. It was rather rare that a strong storm hit your area like this. Much less a storm strong enough to possibly knock the power out. Retrieving your phone from your back pocket, you check the time. It was half past seven in the evening. The sun was already gone from the sky. Checking the time stamp from the last text you’d received from your cousin, it read a quarter past six. Andrew was always the most punctual person you’d known. Always early, hardly on time. When he’d messaged that he’d landed and would be at the door in less than an hour, that’s exactly what you were expecting. Excitement bubbled back up from your stomach as it had been quite some time since you’d seen him. He was your best friend. The big brother you never had, and never knew you needed. So his visits were always a big occasion for you. Especially this one. Your parents had left town for the weekend to visit relatives out of state. You offered to stay and watch the house and surprisingly, they didn’t argue. Now, the entire house was at your free reign for the next 3 days. Not that you had a massive house party planned or anything, but it would definitely be nice to have your own privacy and space.

Still absent-mindedly glaring at your glowing phone screen, the shadows in your living room began to dance as headlights moved outside of the living room window. Finally! He’s here! A rush of adrenaline shot through your veins and within seconds you were swinging the front door open. “Hey!”, you called out into the steady rain. Huddling into yourself in an effort to shield from the wind, and crossing your arms against your chest as you squinted in the dim porch lighting, Andrew responded with equal excitement. “Hey, you! We got stuck waiting on our rental car!”. Wait ... ‘we’? As you inhaled a breath in preparation to interrogate him, you heard a second door slam shut on the vehicle. There was a dark figure walking alongside Andrew as they approached up the driveway. But… he didn’t mention he was bringing anyone else with him… right? As they stepped onto the porch you were finally able to make out your cousin’s familiarity. Tossing your arms around his neck, completely disregarding the fact that he was absolutely sopping wet from the rain, your happiness over powered all other thoughts in that moment. That is until… “So… uh… yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t mention something sooner. It was literally a last minute thing and I figured since we have the house all to ourselves…”, Andrew’s voice trailed off. Gesturing in the air with his hands as he pretty much failed to present a valid explanation and he knew it. Ceasing to speak and just shrugging his shoulders with his sweet endearing smile, you immediately cut your eyes to the personage situated directly to his left.

You blinked twice. Then a third time. A fourth. All the air in your lungs suddenly felt like water. Your eyes narrowed. No… fucking… way. Were you dreaming? You were definitely dreaming. Right? No. A doppelganger! Had to be. Because there was absolutely, positively, just… no fucki-- “Hey… nice to meet you. I’m Kim Hongjoong. Well… Hongjoong… or just Joong, is fine, too.” Perfectly articulated english.

Fuck…!

Your skin was feeling like it had been set on fire, from head to toe. You stared. A little too hard. You had no idea how long the silence had been present. Andrew laughed awkwardly, snapping you out of your trance. “Yeahhh… so, uh… he’s a foriegn exchange student from Korea that got assigned to my dorm… we got pretty tight, and I didn’t think it would be an issue for him to just… yunno… tag along!” Trailing off, Andrew left you two standing there face to face in the whipping rain as he disappeared through the front door and into the house. Turning on your heels, you quickly followed him inside. Once all three of you were in the warmth and safety of the living room, you were literally unable to peel your eyes from your cousin’s guest. Emerging from the hallway after taking in their small amount of luggage, Andrew prepared to take his seat in front of the television on the couch when you suddenly sprung to your feet. Quickly making your way to Andrew, grasping onto the sleeve of his sweater, you yanked him up and into the kitchen.

“Have you… any idea…. any… idea… who… that is?!” You tried so hard to keep your voice hushed and quiet. If hissing counted as quiet. Andrew shrugged his shoulders once again. “I mean, he said he was kinda famous in Korea… and that he sang and danced with a buncha other dudes or something… I don’t know…”, his tone of voice laced with nonchalant disinterest. Huffing you rolled your eyes with your hands balled into fists against your hips. “Look, it’s not a big deal, okay? Even he told me that… so… just treat him like a normal person, alright? He’s my best friend at school, and honestly… he’s pretty cool, actually.” You could not believe what you were hearing. Was this even reality right now? What kind of warped dimension was this?! A look of exasperation twisted up Andrew’s features as he gazed down at you. “He’s really chill, okay? Stop acting weird!”, Andrew remarked as he furrowed his brows. Turning and walking out of the kitchen, he left you speechless and still attempting to comprehend the gravity of the confirmation that was just handed to you. So it really is… it really IS him.

Tapping your nails against the countertop you momentarily contemplated on texting your friends. No. They wouldn’t believe you anyways. What if you took some candids of him and posted them to your tumblr and twitter? Ew, no. That’s creepy. Super creepy. Besides… he’s on vacation… right. In YOUR HOUSE! But still… respect his privacy. And… respect yours. He’s just a regular human being, right? Just like you and your cousin. Sighing heavily and rubbing both of your palms against your face, you wring your hands out and calm yourself enough to walk back into the living room. Sitting yourself down in the same spot on the sofa that you were prior, tucking one leg underneath yourself, your eyes darted across the room and landed on Joong’s face. My god he was just as breathtaking as the fan cams and fan photos you’d filled your blog with. Gnawing on his thumb nail and slowly rocking back and forth in the lay-z boy recliner, his eyes suddenly dart from the television screen and meet yours. Oh, shit! Dropping his hand from his mouth, he offered a partial smirk from the corner of his lips. You unknowingly gasp to yourself. Clearing your throat loudly you whip your head in Andrew’s direction. “So… how long was the flight here? How’s school? What have you been up to…?”, you spouted questions at him. He was unusually quiet tonight. His stories were always mesmerizing and interesting to hear. But tonight the fatigue on his face and in his body language was as loud as a fog horn. Pursing your lips in frustration you looked upon him anticipating an engrossing conversation. “Oh, man… there’s so much. You have no idea…”, he paused momentarily. “I don’t even know where to begin, honestly… my brain is just mush right now, from being so tired.” You knew it. Nodding and looking at the floor, your eyes lift as Andrew rises to his feet. Patting his hands against the sides of his jeans he looks at you and then at Joong and with that, you already knew what was coming next. “Welp… I think I’m going to shower and take my happy ass to bed. I’ll catch you up on everything in the morning, alright? Don’t worry.” His gaze returns to your face. A subtle wink from his left eye has you feeling the urge to sock him right in the mouth, as he shuffles across the living room floor, turning into the hallway and becoming no longer visible. The awkward silence returned like an inevitable looming cloud.

“If you don’t mind… I think I might lay down, too?”, Joong’s melodic voice finally slicing through the thick tension in the air. “Oh, y-yeah… yeah, sure. Go right ahead.”, you immediately respond. Wondering if there was something you could have said to keep him right in his place and possibly more entertained. “Okay… thanks. Uhm… if you don’t mind… I’m not sure… could you show me where… please?”. He began to sit up from this chair. His eyes steadily trained on you like a sniper. It was almost intimidating. “Oh, sure! I’m… I’m sorry! I’m just so used to Andrew knowing where to go around here, I just--”

“It��s okay…”, Joong immediately cut you off. His tone offering reassurance since it was rather obvious that you were feeling like a total failure of a host, at that point. His lips parting into an almost blinding smile. His features were literally so flawless. So sharp and so overwhelmingly attractive! He gestured with one hand for you to walk ahead of him. Pressing your lips together to stifle a smile that was going to be bigger than it should have, you pass him. His scent being carried in the wind. It was intoxicating. A mixture of masculine fragrance. Slightly spicy with undertones of cool blue water and crystal clear ice.

You trek down the darkened hallway and turn a sharp right into the guest room. Flipping on a dim bed side lamp, you spin around anticipating to see his gorgeous face again. Hearing soft shuffling across the carpet, several seconds later, he appears. You swore he got more and more attractive every time you looked at him. Inhaling a deep breath, you gesture around the room, pointing at things and offering a short explanation of the sparse decor in the room when you hear the door click shut behind you. Immediately cutting your eyes towards the sound, you’re met with the most devilish grin you’d ever seen in your life. Air catches in your throat. The shadows casting against his handsome features literally have your heart racing. Your mind scrambled to find an explanation for the situation. Your fight or flight instinct was on a hair trigger, until his soothing and melodic voice cut through the silence like a knife. “Thanks… but I’m sure I can figure it out from here.” He nodded. You nodded. Anxiously weaving your fingers together. So… is he going to let you out then? You take an apprehensive step closer towards the door, but he stood stead fast. His back leaning against the wood. “Got something else to do for the rest of the night…?”. Hongjoong’s bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth. How incredibly sinful. “No… not really…”, your mind on high alert. He raises a single eyebrow. Pushing himself forward off the door, he takes a slow, single step towards you. Dropping his chin and narrowing his piercing gaze, you were sure you stopped breathing. His jaw shifting left to right as he continued to gnaw at his lower lip. He takes another step towards you. Your mind urges you to take a step backwards, but your feet insist on rebelling. The space between you two quickly closing. Another step and— the air catches in your throat. He was absolutely stunning at this distance. Or rather… lack there of. Perhaps star struck, in your mind, you just knew that you probably looked like that emoji with huge heart eyes and a cheesy smile, gazing back at him. One of his hands comes forward. With his palm facing sideways and index finger slightly curled, he slides it underneath your chin. Lightly lifting up your head, he tilts his own to the right. His gaze darting between your eyes and your lips, Hongjoong ever so cautiously dips his head down. Pressing his lips against yours, your eyes immediately flutter shut. Registering the sensation at a slight delay, you’d only began to relish in the softness of his lips when the hand hooked underneath your chin, slides up and around to cup the nape of your neck. Instinctively your lips reciprocate. Molding against his in a seamless seal. Pulling away just as slowly as he brought himself in, he presses his lips together and drags his tongue between them. Keeping his forehead pressed against your own, he whispers against your mouth, “....okay?”. The only response you can manage is to offer a single nod of confirmation. Within that same second, Hongjoong returns his lips to your own. This time, parting them slowly, his tongue slides out beyond his teeth and into your mouth. The unexpected, forcing a soft whimper from your throat. The most beautiful note to ever grace his ears. His other hand sliding from the side of your hip, under the bottom hem of your sweater, and coming to press against the small of your bare back. His skilled tongue tangling with your own. Your eyes flutter shut and you momentarily lose yourself in the intensity of the kiss. Without even realizing it, the edge of the mattress was pressing against the back of your knees. With his palm still pressed to your lower back, he gently guides your down onto the sheets. His lips moving in the same direction as he peppered feathery kisses along your jawline, and the side of your throat. Inevitably coming to focus in the crook of your neck, his lips creating a light suction against your flesh. Rotating his hips just right, Hongjoong managed to wedge his way between your thighs. With his left arm bent at the elbow propping himself up above you, his right hand gently slides down the length of your left arm. His hand soon finding your own and weaving his fingers within yours. With his lips never leaving your flesh, he trails his way down the center of your chest and into the valley between your breasts. Stopping short only on the cause of the neckline of your shirt. Lowering himself, his eyes cut to your own. Drinking in every reaction he could pull from, his teeth bite down on the bottom hem of your top. Raising himself back up towards towards your face, your shirt bunches up just under your bustline. Immediately returning to his previous position, his lips resume their connection to the sensitive skin of your tummy. Kissing his way down to the top elastic of your pj bottoms, he looks up once again. Hongjoong’s smoldering gaze rendered you barely coherent and it was getting more and more difficult to focus on anything. But there it was again. That sinful tongue of his. Allowing it to slip from his lips, he drags the tip of his tongue along the bottom of his top lip. Left. Right. Releasing your hand, both of his hook into the waistband of your bottoms. His eyes still fixed on yours, he quietly asks again. “...okay?”. Just as before, a quick and single nod of confirmation, and he’s tugging the material down. Leaning back and up on his knees, you rock your hips to assist in the removal. Pulling them off your ankles and dropping them to the floor bedside, he then crosses his arms, gripping the bottom hem of his shirt and yanks it up over his head. The metal dog tags around his neck clang loudly as they fall back onto his broad chest. Swallowing hard, your eyes shamelessly drink in the sight before you. Tossing his shirt to join your pj pants on the floor, he leans back down over your body. Scooting himself back to adjust his position, his head turns to the right and he continues his trail of feathery kisses starting at your knee, moving down the inside of your thigh and ending directly, dead center, at the crotch of your soaked panties. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, your gaze cuts off to the side, then back to him. Off to the side, then back at him. He purses his lips and presses them against the dampened material. The warmth of his breath sends shock waves all the way to your toes. Bringing a hand up between your bodies, his lithe fingers traces the lacy edge of the fabric. Hooking his index finger underneath the material, he pulls it to the side, fully exposing you to him, as his face sat literally inches away. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you swallow hard. Fuck… you shaved last night, right? Or… wait… was it the other day? No… it was this morning! It had to be-- “Auuhhhhnnn!….”, suddenly grounded back into reality as your body responded completely on it’s own, a soft moan spills from your lips as the tip of his tongue delves between your dripping folds. Lashing in an up and down direction, he laps at your core. His free hand coming up to gently pull your folds apart, as he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit. Being able to hear nothing but your own heart beat pounding in your ears, laced with the lewd noises of sloshing wetness coming from between your legs, your chest rises and falls as your body jerks with each pass of his tongue. Strangle whimpers and drawn out whines tear from your throat as the coiling heat in the pit of your stomach churns. Tangling your fingers into the bedsheets on either side of you, you fight to keep your legs open for him. Feeling your thighs beginning to tremble, Hongjoong suddenly stops. Voiding you of any contact with him, you feel the mattress shift underneath you. Snapping your eyes open, just in time to lock gazes with him, he’s now hovering over you at eye level. Pressing your lips together tightly, that same wickedly seductive expression was plastered all over his face, as his tongue glides over his bottom lip. My god… he’s so beautiful. The dim lighting in your room proved to be a curse just as much as a blessing in that moment as you turned your head to the side, momentarily attempting to catch your breath. Catching his perfectly defined silhouette against the far wall, you admire every hard line as your eyes travel it’s length. Inevitably coming to settle on the shameless bulge on the front of his figure, your head whips back to face him. Holding himself up above you via on hand planted beside your head, his other hand was already wedged between your bodies, making quick work of the front of his pants. Searching his eyes, desperate for any kind of communication before anything else happened, he drops himself down towards you. His dewy lips brushing lightly against your own as the words trickle into your mouth. “You want this…?” In the same moment, you feel the large and smooth head of his cock toying between your soaked folds, just as his tongue had done, minutes earlier.

Fuck! How could you not?! Temporarily unable to answer, as your eyes flutter shut, his lips press against your own and with his free hand gripping the hilt of his shaft, he continues to tease at your pussy. Skillfully rubbing circles against your clit with the tip of his cock, the friction was absolutely knee-buckling. Pushing your head back into the pillow to create enough space to break the kiss, you pant out the answer that you knew he was patiently waiting to hear. “Y-yes….”.

Without a second to spare and his reaction time seamless, Hongjoong rears his hips back, aligning himself with your entrance. Locking his lips against your own in a conscious effort to muffle the sounds that were to come, he applies pressure with his hips. Feeling yourself stretch around him as he entered you, you suck in a sharp breath through your nose, in return, moaning into his mouth. Your hands grip at his bare shoulder blades, feeling the muscles in his back flex as he thrusts forward. Ceasing his movements only once his lower pelvis leaned flush against the back of your thigh, it was obvious that he was silently at war to keep himself as still as possible, allowing your to adjust to him. Squeezing your floor muscles around his shaft, he suddenly breaks the kiss with a harsh gasp. His torso curls inward as his back bows against your fingernails, and his forehead presses against your collarbone. Seconds later, he blesses you with the sweetest sound you’d probably ever heard in your life. “Auhh-Auuugghhhnn… fuck!”, a lewd moan spills forth from him as he grits his teeth in his face. Panting heavily against your skin, your trail your hands down to each side of his hips as a gesture to let him know that you were okay. Only then did he begin to move.

Starting with slow and shallow strokes, his body rocks gently against yours. His lips busy working the side of your throat. The slick sounds of flesh on flesh echo through your bedroom. Allowing you plenty of adequate time to take this at your own pace, you’re quick to sense that Hongjoong was fighting to keep himself in tandem. Your hands slide from his hips down to hook into the back of his thighs and you begin to pull him into you with every inward stroke. Able to read the signals like a well memorized book, he begins to quicken the pace. Keeping flawless rhythm for several minutes to follow, it wasn’t until his movements began to stutter and stumble that you knew he was getting dangerously close. Clamping your muscles around him, his groans grew in volume and frequency. “Sh-Shit… Auugghnn…. Augghnnnnn!”, his voice becoming raspy and ragged. Eventually unable to keep your own climax at bay, you decided if you were going over the edge, you were taking him with you.

Hongjoong’s thighs begin to quiver as your own begin to violently shake. Feeling the swell rise in the bottom of your belly, your back arches at a sharp angle off the mattress and your head tips back against the pillow. A feral moan rips from your throat as you toss yourself over the edge, spiraling head first into your orgasm. Feeling your muscles spasm around his thick shaft, his thrusts become uneven, breaking the prior pattern he’d kept before. Clinging on to each wave of your climax as they crash over you, his labored breathing rings in your ears. Peeking your eyelids open as you feel yourself beginning to come down from you high, there was nothing in this world that was going to make you miss watching him come unraveled.

As his hips jerk back and forth, he presses harder and longer into you with each stroke. Finally feeling his cock begin to twitch deep in your core, he thrusts inward one last time before holding his body flush against your own. The arm planted beside your head buckles as he leans down onto his elbows. His face buried into the side of your neck, as a guttural moan shreds the quiet ambience of the room. “Hhhhggnn-AUUUHHgggggnnnnn!!! Auugghnnn! Mmmggghhnnn…. Fuck! Fuck!” Each hard jerk of his shaft accompanied with a lewd groan from his lips as he spilled himself inside of you. Immediate warmth coating every inch of your walls, as he unloaded. Struggling to keep enough air in his lungs, his hips rut against your body as his spasms become less frequent and further apart. Combing your fingers through his hair, soothing him as he began to come down from his climax, sweat collects along the ridge of his spine.

As several minutes pass, he still remains buried deep inside of you. Looking up through sweat laced bangs, he offers a blissful smile. I literally cannot believe that just happened… am I dreaming? Nope. I asked myself that question before. I’m definitely awake. And he’s definitely right here. And… he’s definitely starting to get heavy-- Shifting yourself underneath him, he chuckles softly as a slightly apologetic expression takes over his sharp features. Looking down, he slowly pulls himself out. Hissing and taking his bottom lip between his teeth, as the slight friction faults a shiver down his spine, he flops to the sheets beside you. With your thighs slightly aching, your sit yourself up. Momentarily lightheaded, but still feeling the rush of the euphoria, you blindly grab at the edge of the covers. Tugging them up and over both of you, and adjusting your position to face him, you lay back down, tucking an arm underneath your head. Gazing at his stunning features, as he lay with his eyes closed, you lift yourself and lean towards him, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. Without bothering to open his eyes, his hand searches for your own. Entangling his fingers into yours once he finally did, he brings your hand up and presses his lips to back of your palm, refusing to let your hand go. Settling back into place, unsure if anything more should be said nor if anything more even needed to, considering how cryptic and quiet of a person he turned out to be, you simply whisper, “....wow.” No response, except for the soft purring of his slumber.

#kim hongjoong #hongjoong #ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez writers #ateez fic #ateez smut #i'm literally praying that you like it bby #i cannot apologize enough how long this took me!

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch19

Ao3 link

King’s Landing

With his father now living in the Red Keep, Tyrion spends much of his day’s making himself as scarce as possible. It’s not like he hadn’t already been welcomed by the city’s drinking and gambling establishments, so it didn’t look unusual to anyone.

In reality, he spent much of the time he spent drinking his wine also reading. Reading the cobbled, haphazard letters that Sansa had left him, and also the one she’d pressed on him years ago.

He hated to admit how much he missed her presence. Her smile, her laugh her ability to spit a poisoned barb and disguise it as a smiling compliment. And even if he didn’t completely believe them, the kind words she spoke to him. Sometimes he swore he could still feel the kiss she had pressed to his knuckles.

Jamie had ribbed him more than a bit, telling that the real reason he missed her so much was because she had been one of the only people in the Keep to completely enjoy his company, and that he didn’t pay for the trouble.

But it wasn’t just that.

She wrote, in both letters, vividly, of the others. The blue eyes and skin of ice. Of the reanimated dead who could only be put down with fire, with the wights, who required dragon glass or Valyrian steel.

She was very clear on this.

Tyrion Lannister would never have thought himself a man who believed in things he could not see, but he believed her.

It’s why, on this afternoon, he finds himself at the headquarters of the Alchemist’s guild, beneath Rhaenys’s Hill.

Wisdom Hallyne greets him with enthusiasm. It has been too long, he says, since anyone from court had chosen to bless them with a visit.

“I have come,” Tyrion says, “To inquire about the substance.”

This makes Hallyne smile, pointed.

“I was wondering, if your organization had any contacts north of the Neck, anyone who might have the knowledge on how to make it.”

With the smile still on his face, Hallyne gathers a bit of parchment with a name on it.

“A former Wisdom of our order who has left still lives in a village near Castle Cerwyn. He should be able to provide you with what you desire, for the right price.”

“Gold is not an issue,” Tyrion assures, “Not for a Lannister.”

“Might I inquire,” Hallyne asks, “Why you are seeking Wildfire, and why would you need it so far north?”

Tyrion presses his lips into a thin line.

“A Northern winter, sometimes you go to desperate measures to stay warm.”

With this errand off his list, he returns to the Red Keep and to his chambers.

There he writes a pair of letters. He sends the name he found today to Winterfell, that they might contact him on their own discretion.

The other is slipped with a servant, to be delivered to Tywin later that day.

After he is finished, it doesn’t take him long to locate Varys.

“How’s the word from down south?”

Varys smiles.

“Our friend is due to make landfall in Dragonstone within the next six moons.”

Good timing, Tyrion thinks, with Stannis clear on the other side of the kingdoms and Renly otherwise occupied.

“And you will be there to meet her?”

Varys nods in acknowledgement.

“And you sure you are fine with me accompanying you.”

“Actually, I am rather excited you chose to approach me with this, my lord. I feel the two of us make an excellent team.”

The Neck

Howland Reed knew he was not a young man anymore. He knew this would be true even if the injuries he had sustained at the Tower of Joy didn’t still flare up and hurt him to this day. It had been getting worse as winter began. One of the little joys in the return to the past had given him was a few more years before the cold caused the pain and breathlessness to come more and more often.

As opposed to the great joys, of seeing his son live again and his daughter smile again.

Even if now, as winter had come, all he could do for them was sit and keep an eye open for the Stark boy’s ravens. Once he had realized that they could be guided to the keep, he had ordered his men to catch them, in frog nets or rabbit snares rather than shoot them down as they usually did.

“My lord…” one of the archers had objected. He had nodded in understanding. Greywater Watch’s inability to be found had been it’s strongest defense against attackers of both man and night.

It hadn’t taken long once the first of them had been caught for most of his men and women to be able to spot them. They didn’t always fly like normal ravens, and sometimes they would see them change direction or elevation in flight as though possessed.

He had assumed that one of the ravens was the reason for him being summoned this morning, but when the guard leads him to the edge where the crannog met the water, what the man hands him is not even alive. It’s the deepest of winter, and the bogs and creeks and streams have all mostly frozen over. Travel could be very treacherous in these parts because of it, even with the modified snowshoes most wore, a single wrong step could send a man plunging through the ice, and he heeded how important the finds must have seemed for his men to make the journey to show it to him.

“What on-”

“We found it round where the Fenn’s rice fields are in spring,” The man on tells him, “Was ice fishing and it came right up. Seemed like something you should see.”

The object in his hands is wrapped in burlap and strangely heavy. When he unwraps it, he’s surpised to find a harp, a small one, no bigger than a woodharp, but made of bronze.

“You found this under the ice?”

The man nods.

“Wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except these,” he says, pointing at a series of carvings along the harp’s side. He stares at them a moment, trying to puzzle out what they look like.

When he returns to the keep, he asks one of the lookouts,

“Have we heard anything from the Stark’s party?”

The man shakes his head.

“They came down the Kingsroad a few days ago and made it without us having to intervene.”

Reed curses to himself. He has no idea what he’s come across, but he had hoped to get Ned’s take on it. He sets the harp on his writing desk, and stares at a blank sheet of parchment wracking his brain for what to write.

He runs a finger down the side, over the carvings, and it hits him.

Runes, that’s what they look like. The first men carved runes, though they did not put them in books or scrolls. Many held that these runes were proof of the magical secrets that died with them. He feels a cold sensation begin in his gut and wonders what these could mean.

He takes a deep breath before beginning to write. He hopes it’s not too long before one of Bran’s ravens comes back through the swamp.

Winterfell

There is no snow on the day the party returns to Winterfell, but the fog is so thick the guards on the ramparts don’t see it coming until they are straight in front of the gates.

Robb and Catelyn are finishing up petitions when word comes, and Robb only manages to politely dismiss the others in the hall with the greatest of effort before making a dash out to meet them. Catelyn smiles, a little forced, and trails behind, saying she will gather the others.

Most of them are in the training yard, with Ser Davos quietly observing, having taken a few days to rest before attempting another voyage. They are shooting arrows this time, because Arya with a sword can’t be matched by anyone but Robb, or sometimes Theon anymore. They’re shouting at each other, but stop quickly when Catelyn approaches.

When they all leap to attention to go to the front and greet everyone, Cateyn hangs back with Davos.

Sansa’s the first she sees, the easiest to see with her bright red hair peeking out from under her hood. She’s somehow grown even taller, she’s nearly as tall as Ned, Catelyn notes, and she stood with her full height.

Arya runs and hugs her first, which after all this time still somehow surprises her. It’s more familiar, however, when Sansa reaches back and yanks her sister’s braid hard, as if they were not two grown women.

“Can’t BELIEVE you went and got married without me again…” Sansa spits petulantly, but doesn’t let her sister out of her embrace yet.

Ned is...the same as he’s always been. A few more lines on his face and a few more gray hairs perhaps. Stress of the capital Cat thinks. And seeing him again makes her heart flutter in her chest despite the mixed feelings in her head.

His eyes find hers, uncertain, skittish. She clears her throat, and decides the best topic is a neutral one.

She turns her gaze to Brienne and Shireen.

“I see we have a couple of extras to find room for.”

Ned’s expression turns grave.

“Yes. And things down south may turn quite ugly soon. As if the ugliness from the north wasn’t enough.”

He doesn’t yet mention the failed attack.

The serious tone in his voice is lightened when he gets mobbed by the rest of his children. Watching his eyes go wide at the sight of Arya and Bran is gratifying. Arya had been correct that she had reached womanhood quite gracefully, but Bran had seemingly sprouted up like a beanpole overnight, and Catelyn feels vindicated by Ned’s shock.

There’s a pause, when Ned stops to introduce the other two, and most of them look like they’re pretending not to recognize them.

Arya, especially, squeals and greets Brienne with a,

“Finally! Someone else around here who’s not rubbish with a sword!”

“It seems your reputation precedes you,” Sansa says, smiling, covering her sister’s slip with ease.

Sansa watches as Gendry looks Shireen up and down and watches the glimmer of recognition on his face. Davos had mentioned the girl before, but none of the others had met her. No wonder the hit had been able to go out on the other Baratheon bastards so easily, he thought. Her hair was a bit light (from her mother’s side Davos had said), but the eyes were identical. The scars from her grayscale were distracting, but he could even see a bit of same jawline under it. Before he can open his mouth and speak, Shireen’s eyes catch something off to the side and races off.

Sansa nods off to go and talk to Theon. Something tells her the two of them aren’t going to want this conversation watched.

Shireen throws her arms around Ser Davos’s neck. It’s been so long since she’s seen him that she’s nearly up to his nose.

She tries to speak, but finds herself choking on her words, eventually managing to ask.

“Sansa said- she told me...Father….” her voice trails off.

The older man simply hugs the girl, making soft reassuring noises, and Sansa redirects her attention when her mother begins ushering everyone inside out of the cold.

It’s too late in the season for a proper feast, but the soup is thick with barley and potatoes among the bits of tough mutton stewed long until it fell off the bone.

It tastes of home and warms Sansa to her core.

Catelyn smirks as she spies Ned watching Arya and Gendry out of the corner of her eye.

“I almost feel I’ve been hoodwinked,” she admits, “Arya threw the lad and her marriage at us when she was so young we considered it ridiculous...and by the time it began to seem real we had all grown used to him.”

“She may have seen that as a benefit, if not a goal.”

Catelyn’s eyes are rueful.

“I would have dismissed him outright before. Before all of this, I wouldn’t have even listened to Arya’s pleas.”

Ned takes her hand under the table and Catelyn feels tears prick at her eyes. She thanks all the gods that he doesn’t make her finish her thought, doesn’t make her talk about the other boy who she had dismissed outright.

“Perhaps these trials are the gods making us reexamine how we view these parts of our lives.”

After a long moment of silence, Catelyn adds, with a smirk in her voice.

“Even after I dragged them into the sept, they act just the same.”

Arya was demonstrating this by quietly licking the tip of one finger and sneaking it into Gendry’s left ear to make him jump, even as he keeps one arm wrapped tight around her back and she one of her legs hooked with his under the table.

“You’ve never had cousins or siblings before,” she teases, smiling with deceptive sweetness, “I have to give you a peek of what it’s actually like.”

“Be happy she’s past the age of food flinging and tying your boot laces together,” Sansa reassures him.

“Careful Sansa, I’ve been told I’ve been told I have an incredibly childlike spirit”.

Smiling at their back and forth, Gendry’s gaze turns to the end of the table, where he notices Shireen isn’t sitting.

Shireen had, in fact, not been especially hungry, and so had told Brienne that she would be sitting just outside the Great Hall on a box, that she needed some air.

She was sitting there now, staring out into the ground blanketed with snow. She’d never seen proper snow before, and it was beautiful, even if the cold up this far north made her face go numb.

She isn’t sure what’s she’s thinking about, her knees tucked tightly into her chest, when she hears a voice behind her.

“Brought you some soup.”

The bowl is offered to her by a slight, sandy haired lad who she remembers seeing in the group that welcomed them, but cannot recall his name.

“Thank you,” she tells him, taking the bowl, thought she had been honest before and isn’t terribly hungry, “Sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

“I’m Jojen Reed,” he tells her.

After a moment of watching her, he blurts out.

“Did someone tell you how you died?”

Shireen is so taken aback she feels herself jolt. His words are completely honest though, and she doesn’t get a chance to answer before he continues.

“Sorry, I know it’s...but you’ve got the same look on your face I feel like I’ve had on mine for the past several years. ‘

He’s sat down beside her, his knees pressed into himself the same way she has hers. It’s a defensive posture.

Shireen opens her mouth, finding her words from the chaos that her mind has been since they left King’s Landing.

“Yes, Sansa told. Wasn’t sure that I believed her until I talked to Ser Davos. Did-did you…”

Jojen’s head is tucked in, resting on his knees and he’s playing with the lining on his cloak.

“My sister and I went north over the wall with Bran-”

Shireen nods. She remembers meeting Bran and can now place a curly haired woman who had been standing between him and Jojen and assumes that must be the sister.

“We were attacked by wights and I was stabbed. Meera slit my throat so I wouldn’t suffer. It’s hard, I know. Sometimes I catch Bran and Meera looking at me as though if they look away I’ll disappear again.”

Seven hells, Shireen thinks. Sansa had mentioned that there were monsters coming from over the wall, but she had been sort of avoiding thinking about that part.

“So you don’t remember?”

Jojen shakes his head.

“Sansa, Arya, Bran, Gendry, Ser Davos do. My father too, but he’s back home in the swamp. Most of the people here had been told, even the servants seem to know, though most of them don’t seem to really grasp it. The wildlings know exactly the things that are coming too.”

Shireen hugs her legs tighter.

“That’s awful.” her voice quiets, but she continues, “I was told my father allowed a witch to burn me as a sacrifice.”

Jojen swears under his breath at her outburst.

“I remember the others mentioning that a couple times...said if he would do something like that you’re father couldn’t be allowed to rule anything.”

Shireen tries not to feel the slight against her father, but she still does. She feels the tears leak free and begin to fall down her cheeks. She takes a sip of her soup.

“I used to dream of being burned alive in dragonfire,” she says bitterly, “Maybe those dreams were prophetic.”

“No,” Jojen replies casually, “If that had truly been prophetic, it would have happened, probably already, and there wouldn’t be anything anyone could do to change it.”

His words chill Shireen, but also intrigue her.

“You speak like-”

“Like I have them? I do. Sometimes at night when I’m asleep, sometimes I seize and fall to the ground with them during the day. But they always come true, though not always exactly as I see them. I scare people with them sometimes.”

“Greensight,” Shireen realizes, “I’ve only read about it in books, I never knew if it was actually real.” She pauses a bit before continuing, “My face scares people sometimes too.”

“I don’t know why,” he replies, “It’s just your face, it’s not like you’re scary.”

Shireen feels her cheeks flush and her whole body go warm. She covers it by taking a swig from her bowl of soup.

She deflects by asking.

“We passed the library tower on the way in, does anyone go in there much?”

“I do sometimes,” Jojen replies, “Since I’m pretty much the only one here who’s utterly useless in a fight. I can’t swing a sword or hold a spear. Bran and Rickon can shoot a bow better than me, even though Rickon’s not even got a beard yet and Bran’s got a bad leg. Even Lady Sansa can shoot better than me.”

“I know,” Shireen says, thinking back to the man who attacked them on the Kingsroad, she’d been trying so hard not to think about that. “She told me your sister taught her.”

Jojen nods.

“Sansa’s been through some awful stuff, and is quite dedicated to it never happening to her or to anyone else again. That’s why I’m so glad I haven’t had too many greendreams since everyone came back.”

He stands at that point, and reaches out to tug on the edge of her cloak’s hood.

“You should keep this up. That way if you need to cry the tears won’t freeze on your face and let everyone know.”

When he walks away, Shireen takes his advice, pulling the tie on her cloak more tightly closed, but to hide her blush, not tears.

That night is a full moon.

Later that night, Gendry is woken by being roughly shaken by his wife.

“What are-”

“Come here, you have to hear this,” Arya whispers, pulling him out of bed towards the cracked window. He only hears the whistling of the wind at first, until she pulls it open a bit more, just enough.

He hears a howl, and then another.

“Is that-”

Arya’s smiling infectiously, and nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I told her to find the others and bring them home.”

And out in the woods Nymeria and the other wolves howl at the moon.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #sanrion #breera #fic #time travel fix it

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lofiyeol · 5 years

Text

PAPERCUTS - CHAPTER 2

summary: After the sudden deaths of two of their friends, Chanyeol and Baekhyun try to piece together what happened and end up uncovering a tangled love story.

rating: R

genre: angst!!! a lot of it!!!

pairing: kyungsoo/jongin

length: chaptered

warning: suicide mentions throughout

READ ON AFF

He has dreams, extraordinarily vivid and yet bizarrely indescribable, containing the familiar soft visage of Kyungsoo and the jagged, squiggly one of Jongin, the unknown. Flitting in and out of sleep, each time he opens his eyes to the waking world he’s greeted with a different scene—Baekhyun alone, staring out the window, sitting cross legged on the floor, Minseok and Baekhyun talking in hushed tones over the coffee table, and then Jongdae on the phone, leaning against the wall, his usually happy face drawn into uncharacteristic grim lines. When he finally sits up, night has already fallen and he and Baekhyun are alone again. The television dances with bright colors, and Baekhyun’s attention is grasped by the videogame on the screen, sitting completely still other than his thumbs pressing combinations into the controller. Chanyeol watches him play for a little while as his consciousness slowly returns.

An evening breeze floats in through the cracked window, cutting icy cold across Chanyeol’s cheeks. The moon is especially bright tonight, the light of its pale face hitting the side of Baekhyun’s crouched form and casting a strange malformed shadow on the carpet. It triggers an image from Chanyeol’s dream: Jongin, dancing, face obscured, in some bizarre landscape of desert and tundra mixed together. As his feet swept through sand and snow, they had drawn a picture—a malformed figure, a hunched and fanged monster with clawed hands.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, voice barely a whisper from the day of disuse. Baekhyun immediately turns around, forgetting the game. “You’re awake.”

“Is there… food?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun stands. “My mom made some for you before she went to bed for if you woke up in the middle of the night. I’ll get it.” He disappears from view for a few moments before returning with a tray of kimbap, which he places in Chanyeol’s blanketed lap.

“Thank you.”

Baekhyun sits down next to Chanyeol as he eats. They both watch the little character bouncing on the game’s home screen.

“Minseok and Jongdae came by. They got told the same as us. Jongdae went to Jongin’s house since he lives nearby but it was all taped off and nobody would let him inside. He ran into Jongin’s landlord who said Jongin lived there by himself, no mom or dad or siblings with him. Kyungsoo’s parents are going to have the funeral for him soon, but I don’t know what’s going to happen with Jongin. Jongdae seemed to think he had no family at all.”

The 8-bit theme song repeats and repeats in the background as Chanyeol chews slowly through his food. “Do you know… why?”

“No. Nobody does, except cops. Right now, at least.” Baekhyun steals a roll of kimbap off Chanyeol’s plate. “Jongdae told me both bodies were at Jongin’s but that’s all the information he got.”

The tremble in Baekhyun’s lower lip is just barely noticeable, but his emotions are betrayed by his breaking voice. “I-I didn’t even really know they were friends.”

This is the part that hurts Chanyeol the most, that will keep him up every night for the next few months: just how much he didn’t know.

Baekhyun eventually crashes in the early hours of the morning, falling asleep face down in the couch, wrinkled school uniform bunching at his knees. Chanyeol stays awake until the morning rolls in. The sky is as pleasant as the day before, swollen white clouds grazing past the bright sun. Not a spot of darkness to be seen. Chanyeol moves a cushion so that it blocks the light from Baekhyun’s sleeping eyes before he leaves.

The cold wind whips his body he walks out of Baekhyun’s apartment complex, and he pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. Suffocating himself, comforting himself—Chanyeol can’t be bothered to tell the difference. Today’s issue of the Seoul Herald is splayed open on the cobblestones of the driveway, pages fluttering in a desperate plea for attention. Chanyeol thinks the newspaper looks like a body, the white of bone and black of death open in a terrible perverted blossom. But everything is starting to look like bodies to him now, the flowers and ivy and cracked walls and trash bags lining the streets. He snatches the newspaper into his shaking hands as he begins to make his way to the bus stop.

SUCIDES IN SEODAEMUN-GU

He expected something, but the title displayed on the paper’s front page still makes him wince and his heart fall into his stomach. The outside of what he assumes is Jongin’s house is printed in vivid color, a small, unassuming apartment decked in caution tape like some twisted art installation.

The bus is full of morning commuters but Chanyeol squeezes in, folding into a corner and hiding himself behind the newspaper. Beneath his thick coat his insides feel like they’re wrapped up in some pressurized knot, only getting tighter and tighter as his eyes drink in the words.

Two bodies of teenaged boys were located yesterday in a Seodaemun-Gu apartment, dead of apparent suicide. Though motivations are still unknown, the fact remains that these are two additions to the record-breaking number of teen suicides this year. Teen suicide is becoming an undeniable epidemic in South Korea, one we as a society cannot ignore any longer.

Chanyeol flips angrily through the statistics and hotline numbers, looking desperately for more images, more details, names and times and reasons, but comes up empty handed. Gritting his teeth, he crunches the newspaper into a ball.

He feels wrong. Every limb in his body doesn’t work the way it should, his brain keeps misplacing thoughts and his tongue flops useless in his mouth. Chanyeol couldn’t care less about most things; he had never had a serious outlook on life and did fine for himself, armed with a flirtatious tongue and boyish good looks. With Baekhyun by his side, he was one half of an unstoppable dynamic duo, the both of them likeable for their own good. Now, Chanyeol can’t even remember what it felt like to smile, or to function properly at all. He stares at the blank ceiling trying to understand how it’s only been a day since he got the news—how will he last?

He manages to find his apartment through the thick fog filling his brain and buzzes himself in, slogging up a flight of stairs to his front door. His mother’s hair smells like flower perfume as she embraces him wordlessly into a hug.

“Did you eat? I made toast. Baekhyun’s mother called and told me you spent the day at their house. She said you looked really ill. Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

“M’fine,” Chanyeol mutters as he pulls out of her embrace. “Really.”

“Well, if you need anything…” Chanyeol’s mother falters.

“I’m fine.” Chanyeol touches her shoulder as he walks to his room.

He has the wherewithal to pretend in front of his mother. But when he shuts the door behind him, he sinks to the ground, brow broken out in sweat. It’s hurting him more than he would have expected.

Not like Chanyeol had ever thought of a situation even remotely close to this one before—Kyungsoo was healthy, ostensibly happy, and had been a part of Chanyeol’s life since elementary school. They laughed and played almost every day; even when Baekhyun entered the picture at the beginning of middle school Kyungsoo didn’t take a backseat. They lived close to each other after all, and Chanyeol went to his house every week to do homework and watch television and drink when Kyungsoo’s mother was out. It was a normal life Kyungsoo had, and Chanyeol thought he knew a lot about it. His mind reels, attempting to reckon once more with the present situation. Again, he hits a wall. It’s too preposterous to comprehend.

Furiously he rummages through his backpack and fishes out his cellphone, which thankfully has ten percent of battery left, and scrolls quickly through his contacts. He has to hear it from the person who knows the most. Right now, that appears to be Jongdae.

His classmate picks up on the first ring. “Chanyeol?”

“Hey,” Chanyeol starts lamely. Jongdae cuts to the chase.

“I was at Baekhyun’s earlier, but you were asleep. I assume he told you some details.”

“Yeah, but I want to talk to you.” Chanyeol pulls off his jacket, tossing it onto his bed. The door is cool as he leans his back against it. “You know… something, right? More than anyone else?”

“I just live close to Jongin, that’s all. I went to his house and saw the outside of it. They wouldn’t let me in, obviously, but they told me to give them my name and they might be in contact if they needed anything.”

“Like what?”

“Actually…” Jongdae falters, and then clears his throat. “The police need a… second ID. On the bodies. Specifically Jongin’s. They want to be sure.”

It’s surreal. It’s so surreal that Chanyeol’s tongue is tied and his legs are locking and his arm is hanging limply by his side. Jongdae’s sigh crackles through the speaker. “I can’t believe this is fucking happening.”

“I can’t either,” Chanyeol manages through his lips that suddenly feel too thick.

They sit in each other’s silence for a moment. Chanyeol’s mind can’t create anything but the image of Kyungsoo’s eyes, forced perpetually open with death.

“You should come. I told Baekhyun and Minseok as well. You should come with me to the police station later today. We were Jongin’s closest friends. Kyungsoo’s mother is going to be there too and I think she’d like to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chanyeol says faintly. “Yeah, I’ll… I want to see her… and Kyungsoo too. It’s just all happening so fast.”

“Take it easy. Just stay at home. Try to think about something else.” Jongdae’s sentence trails off, as if he knows his own advice is as good as impossible. “I’ll text you the time, okay? See you soon.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae hangs up. The sudden absence of his friend’s voice makes Chanyeol shiver.

His mother makes him hot cocoa, Chanyeol’s favorite childhood drink. He sits in his room, watching the sun move through the slats in his window shades, forgetting to blink for so long that it looks like a punctured orange egg yolk leaking out into the sky.

Chanyeol already knows he’s going to have to get used to waiting. For answers, for results, for reports, for closure. It feels like he’s just started a new life where suddenly nothing is about him anymore. The stupid petty problems he had when things were normal feel like hazy dots in his distant memory. Just things he wasted time focusing on while Kyungsoo was dying every day, right before his eyes. So fucking selfish…

Dying. The word rolls around in his brain, still so foreign. As much as he puts the name Kyungsoo and the word dead together, it doesn’t make any sense.

Him and Baekhyun and Jongdae and Minseok… all of them left behind in some split-off parallel universe that wasn’t supposed to exist. Chanyeol feels his lids begin to grow heavy with the haze of confusion and hurt and he crumples into sleep, slumping against the door.

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calcidekudine · 6 years

Text

out of my head of my heart of my mind

out of my head of my heart of my mind katsudeku. explicit. part two. also available on ao3. warnings: A/B/o dynamics, masturbation, scenting, nipple play

<< previous | beginning

When Katsuki wakes, his alarm is screaming. His skin is tacky with sweat. His throat is dry. He grabs his phone and hits the snooze. Sleep sticks to the corner of his eyes, a gooey sensation at war with the scrape of frustration inside his bones and the broil of heat in his blood.

Katsuki breathes deep.

Holds it until it hurts.

Exhales shakingly. He repeats this process until his irritation fades. When his alarm goes off again, he sits up, turns it off, and scrubs the heel of his hand against his eyelids. Sheets pool around his naked waist.

This is when he notices two things. First is the sensation of slick between his legs; the second is the stiffness of his cock. He glares at his covered lap, but no amount of scowling deters his erection.

"Are you fucking me," Katsuki mutters as he gets out of bed. His cock bobs as he walks to the bathroom and turns the shower to scalding. He has only been off his suppressants for three days; it should take longer for his heat to take root. "This is a bunch of bullshit."

Katsuki steps under the spray and lets the hot water soak his short hair and run down his body. He lathers shampoo into his hair; cleanses his face; scrubs a bar of soap against his skin. The longer he ignores his erection the more he becomes aware of other things, like the slide of water over his taut stomach and the tightness of his nipples.

"What the fuck," Katsuki mutters as he looks down at the pink nubs. His chest is not normally sensitive and, with some curiousity, he reaches up and pinches. A bolt of heat races down his spine and explodes in his groin. His leg muscles tense, forcing him onto the balls of his feet, and an inhuman noise claws out of his throat.

Holy shit, Katsuki thinks in a brain full of static. Holy fucking shit, why the fuck—?

Without thinking, Katsuki lifts his other hand and pinches both his nipples simultaneously. He's rougher, holding onto the nubs and tugging. His jaw slackens. It feels so good he wants to shout, but he's too breathless for any true sound to form. He repeats this action again and again, until his nipples are red, puffy, and painful. He holds one—twists it—reaches down to his bloodheavy cock—tightens his fist cruelly and—

Katsuki closes his eyes. Thinks of Izuku's hands: scarred and deformed, thick-fingered, broad-palmed, and callused. If he were in the shower with Katsuki, Izuku'd wrap one hand around Katsuki's cock and press two fingers against Katsuki's slick hole. He wouldn't push inside. He'd rub at Katsuki's entrance and murmur nonsense about being sure and ready against the line of Katsuki's throat. Katsuki would have to swear—

Threaten—

Beg.

Brought to the brink, every muscle in Katsuki's body tenses. He whines as he comes. He spills over his desperate fingers and—by the time his heart calms down and his breathing returns to normal—the evidence of his want has been washed down the drain.

"Fuck," Katsuki says.

The rest of the morning crawls. Katsuki makes himself an enormous breakfast—rice, eggs, and fat-rich fish—and ignores the clean-up in favor of turning on his television. He scrolls through the wide selection of movies and shows. Nothing appeals to him, not even the latest action films packed with giant explosions.

Huffing, Katsuki turns on his gaming console and starts his favorite first-person shooter. This attempt at distraction lasts longer but, after an hour, the buzz of boredom creeps into Katsuki's brain and refuses to leave. He tosses the controller aside with a frustrated grunt. His skin feels tight. There's potential low in his abdomen, a simmering heat that could quickly become another erection. It would be so easy. Katsuki could push the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs, just far enough for the elastic to press against his balls. It would free up his other hand so he could reach behind him, slide his fingers into his empty hole, a weak substitute for Izuku's alpha dick—

Abruptly, Katsuki shoves his thoughts out of his brain and gets off the couch.

He's going to the gym.

The gym Katsuki goes to is halfway between his apartment and his agency. It's pretty popular despite the outrageous membership fee, and is exclusive to heroes and sidekicks. It boasts state of the art equipment, a swimming pool and sauna, an indoor running track, several on-site massage therapists, and even a smoothie bar. It isn't busy when Katsuki arrives at half-past ten but it isn't deserted either, and everyone who is present double-takes when they smell him. Katsuki firmly ignores the quick, sideways glances and—after changing into a pair of ratty cutoff sweatpants and a muscle tank—stalks over the dumbbells. This is where he stays for the next twenty minutes, doing rep after rep until a familiar face ignores his scowl and saunters over.

"You reek," Sero says in lieu of greeting. His wiry arms are crossed over his chest and his face is carefully blank. "Are you—you know."

Katsuki rises from his squat but doesn't put his weighted barbell back on the rack. Instead, he meets Sero's eyes and cocks an eyebrow. Sero sighs.

"Stupid question," Sero mutters. Then, because Katsuki is surrounded by idiots, Sero says, "I thought you took suppressants."

"I did." Katsuki drops down. Comes back up. The movement is flawless even though Katsuki's thighs are trembling from exertion. "Now I'm not."

The burn beneath Katsuki's skin is not entirely from exercise. The prickle of pre-heat is incessant. It feels like a fever. Already the sensation is stronger than what Katsuki experienced while he worked through his cycle on his suppressants. The harder he tries to ignore it, the more aware he becomes.

"Should you be here, when you're this close?" Sero asks. "I could smell you from the door."

"I don't give a fuck," Katsuki snaps. Oddly, the sharp response makes Sero smile.

"No," he says. "I didn't think you would."

Katsuki glares. He's an unclaimed omega going into heat and, as a result, his body pumping out pheromones in the hopes of attracting a mate. It's no different than what happens when an alpha goes into rut, save for the fact that it is socially acceptable for alphas to be in a public sphere while omegas are meant to be locked away. Ever since he presented, Katsuki has been enraged by what others think he should do and how he should behave.

"So what?" Katsuki prompts. "Were you worried or some shit?"

"Knee-jerk reaction." Sero shrugs. "Sorry. It's stupid, I know. You're you. If someone made an unwanted advance, you'd kick their ass."

"Damn right I would."

"Which is why I have to ask—why did you stop taking your suppressants? You've been on them for as long as I've known you, and you're not the kind of person who just does something without reason. So, tell me: is it medical or did you finally meet someone?"

"Whaddya mean, finally?"

"Ah, so you did meet someone!" Sero crows. His grin has grown and taken over the majority of his face. "Come on, Bakugou, you can tell me who it is. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"The fuck you won't. You're worse than Pinky," Katsuki says.

"What if we do a couple laps and I beat you?" Sero wagers. It's a bad bet, especially since Katsuki just finished a punishing series of squats, but he knows Katsuki won't back down from a challenge, even one that is at his disadvantage. "Or are you afraid you'll lose?"

Sero wiggles his eyebrows and holds out a hand. Katsuki takes it without hesitation, and says,

"You're on."

Katsuki wins. Sero groans, defeated, and then tries to wheedle Izuku's name from Katsuki for the next hour. Katsuki refuses to say anything. He doesn't care if Sero learns that he is spending his heat with Izuku—Kirishima will blab soon enough—but it is amusing to listen to Sero try and guess who Katsuki's heat partner might be.

"You know I'll find out eventually, right?" Sero says after they've hit the showers and are redressing in their civilian clothing. "There's literally no reason for you to keep it a secret."

"That reverse psychology shit isn't gonna work on me," Katsuki replies as he tugs on his sneakers. Then, because Katsuki has a sadistic streak, he asks, "Would you like a hint?"

Visibly perking up, Sero exclaims, "Uh, yeah!"

"Too bad," Katsuki says.

The betrayed look on Sero's face keeps Katsuki in good spirits for the rest of the day.

Though Katsuki's time at the gym mellows the worst of his pre-heat symptoms, subduing the feverish itch beneath his skin and keeping his burgeoning arousal to a simmer, it does not make them disappear completely. Sweat beads on his hairline, gathers between his shoulders blades, and makes his costume stick to him. It is uncomfortable and itchy, and not even the cool spring breeze can alleviate the discomfort.

The hours drag from afternoon to evening. Uneventful and boring. Katsuki is relieved when his comm crackles to life in his ear and his replacement gives him the all-clear. He all but races back to agency, bursting into the changing room and—

A familiar smell stops Katsuki several feet from his locker.

Deku, he thinks, the name surprisingly clear in his suddenly hazy mind. He stumbles forward. Drops to his knees and yanks the metal door open. There is another bento in his locker but no note. In its place is a carefully folded white t-shirt. The shirt is unwashed and it reeks of Izuku, of his strong alpha musk. Saliva instantly pools in Katsuki's mouth. He wants to bury his face in the fabric and drown himself in Izuku's scent. Izuku has always smelled so, so good...

Abruptly, Katsuki slams the locker door shut. He pinches his nose shut and breathes heavily through his mouth, great heaving gasps that hurt his ribcage. He does this until the fog in his brain dissipates enough for him to change out of his costume—

To scarf down the convenience store bento—

To shove Izuku's shirt into his gym duffel—

To stalk home and—

"Stupid," Katsuki hisses as he staggers into his apartment, barely remembering to close the door behind him. It is half past one in the morning. His head feels fuzzy and his limbs feel heavy; his pants chafe against his thighs and the fabric of his henley drags against his sensitive nipples. "Stupid—fucking—nerd—"

With trembling hands, Katsuki opens his duffel and pulls out Izuku's shirt. The heavy scent floods his senses. He moans and all but collapses onto the floor of the entryway, his knees and his forehead pressed against the unforgiving hardwood. He brings Izuku's shirt to his face and buries his face into the fabric.

Katsuki is so hard it hurts.

One-handed, Katsuki fumbles with his belt buckle and zipper, trying to free his dick as quickly as he can, and he chokes as his fingers wrap around his erection. His clammy palm does little to ease the roughness of his callouses against the sensitive skin, but he is more worried about getting off as soon as possible than going into the bedroom and finding lube. He jerks himself, dry and brutal, and buries his face as far as he can into Izuku's shirt.

It smells so good. So so so good, and Katsuki's mouth floods with spit again. Drool escapes the gape of Katsuki's mouth and soaks the cotton. He is unaware of the way he licks at Izuku's shirt, desperate to have the taste of his alpha's skin. His fist works furiously as he suffocates, mouth and nose smothered. Slick soaks his underwear. His hole is empty and it isn't enough—

It isn't enough—

It isn't—

Katsuki's orgasm is sudden and unfulfilling. He cries out, "Izu—!" as his come paints the dark floor, the plea muffled by the bunched up cotton pushing into Katsuki's mouth. He is rigid for a moment as pleasure crashes through him—then the tension releases and he falls bonelessly to his side.

His muscles twitch.

He struggles for air.

Yet even while Katsuki pants through the aftershocks, Izuku's shirt remains clutched in his fist and against his face.

next >>

#katsudeku #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #my fic #out of my head of my heart of my mind

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lexosaurus · 6 years

Text

Xmas Truce 2017

This one’s for @phantomfighter724. Happy holidays!

Danny hunched over the toilet, his body cleansing itself of everything it didn't like. His breakfast, bile—it all pooled in the murky water below.

He leaned his head down against the porcelain seat. He gave a halfhearted attempt at shifting his arms to support his sweaty face before giving up. His entire body felt like lead. His brain was clouded. He was a mess.

His stomach growled and he let out a whine of frustration. "What the hell," he muttered under his breath. What the hell was happening to him?

Out of the corner of his eye his phone lit up, and for a second he wondered why it was thrown haphazardly against the corner of the wall before he recalled tossing it out of his hand in his blind panic to reach the toilet on time. He winced, and braced himself for the worst. Fortunately, after a brief inspection, he found no additional cracks in his screen other than the small one in the corner he got from one of Skulker's brilliantly-failed attempts at kidnapping him.

A new message from Valerie popped up on the screen, and despite his situation he could help but grin a little. Befriending Valerie after she discovered his secret—connecting Dani's halfa status to his a little too easily—was a long, strenuous process. At first, it even seemed impossible, if their blatant disregard for the other's existence in school was anything to go by. But pent-up teenage emotion coupled with the constant necessity of teamwork during field-work eventually lead to an explosive argument. Valerie's hurt, Danny's insecurities, both of their mistrust in each other, everything came to light. It was violent, even if no blood was shed, and they walked away having said too many things they couldn't take back. Danny thought they were through.

They were, for a time. The silence didn't let up, but something shifted. Instead of angry silence, the air around them was uncomfortable. It was awkward, weird. Danny had never felt so unsure of how to act since his first day walking into Casper High two years ago. He was fourteen, and he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

It was Valerie who broke the silence first, sending him a text reading, “I can’t do this anymore. Let’s meet up for coffee after my shift ends today.”

That conversation was different. They actually listened rather than spewing out the first thing they could think of through their red-tinted eyesight. And while the duo spoke with blunt honesty, they were delicate with their words. Respectful of the situation.

At some point after that, Valerie joined him on his nightly patrols. Danny wasn't sure why, but he chose not to question it. At first they wouldn't talk other than the obligatory, "Ghost of there," or "Watch out," but it was a step. A tiny step, but a step nonetheless.

After about a week of this, however, Danny thought he was going to lose his mind over the stupid tension. So he choked out the first thing he could think of, "So...the weather."

It was by far the worst conversation starter in the book, and he could have sworn he saw Valerie nearly lose her balance on her hoverboard. His own face burned green, and he ducked down a few feet under her in a brilliant attempt to hide his embarrassment. Valerie definitely noticed, but for some reason she chose to go along with it.

So they talked. Their first conversation was nothing but superficial, the kind of small-talk one would have when dragged along to a dinner-party with their parents, but it marked the beginning of a budding friendship between the duo. Eventually, those nightly patrols turned into after-school homework sessions and then just Friday night hangouts. While all of their problems didn't disappear overnight, they worked through them. As friends. And then, eventually...

Received: 11:24am

Val: Hey, how you feeling?<3

Danny shook his head, as if attempting to clear the fog, and typed back a response.

Danny: not sure...i think it's getting worse

Val: Want me to come over?

Danny: don't bother i can handle it

Val: Ok I'm coming over.

Danny: seriously it's prob nothing bad

Val: Do you like tomato soup or chicken noodle better?

Danny: val it's a ghost thing u don't have to worry it'll probably pass soon

Val: Ok I'm bring both I'll be there in 10

Danny: ...ok

As stubborn as Danny could be, Valerie was worse. Danny wasn’t even sure why he still resisted her kindness, even if they were dating. Maybe it was his pride? Maybe he didn’t want to get her sick? Maybe he was still insecure about himself and felt less-than and unworthy of any amount of affection? Who knew, really.

Another pang of hunger swept through his body and he sighed, leaning against the wall for support. He closed his eyes and let the dizziness sweep over him. It was probably just a ghost flu, right? It had to pass soon, didn't it?

Ever since a particularly bad fight against Vortex, he's felt off. At first, he was just a little lightheaded. Ok, no big deal, he just had to drink water. Powerade. And for a time, that worked okay. Not great, but it put a band-aid over the issue for a bit.

That was, until the hunger-pains started. He woke up one day hungry. His body clenched up as if he hadn't eaten in days, despite having a large dinner the night before. He wolfed down his morning cereal, ignoring his mom's comments about his appetite, and took off for school. Instead of feeling ready to start the school day, he felt awful. His stomach still was cramped, and waves of nausea washed over him. A few days into this cycle later, his body finally gave up and he found himself hunched over a toilet halfway through first period.

Sam all but dragged him to the nurses office that day, forcing him to get a note to go home. He slept for the rest of that day—or tried his best—but whatever was wrong with him, it didn't pass. The next day he woke up, his hunger even stronger than the day before. He tried to force himself to eat something, but he couldn't. Even though his body screamed at him for anything goddamnit, his morning cereal looked...unappetizing. Gross.

Of course, Danny hadn't gotten so much as a cold since gaining his ghostly half. Sam had a theory that the ectoplasm coursing through his blood burned off any unwanted bacteria or viruses in his body. That theory, as uneducated of a guess as it was, was more likely true than not. It would also explain the lack of infections Danny's gotten, even though his blood has been exposed to the air too many times to be healthy for a normal human.

Ah well, just another thing to add to the never ending list of everything that separated him from other humans.

That didn't mean he hasn't gotten sick, though. As rare as they were, ghostly viruses did exist in the Ghost Zone. Danny managed to contract the ghostly flu last year, which made his powers glitch as bad as the first month after the portal accident. Tucker being Tucker found it absolutely hysterical, and made sure to stock up on as much blackmail material as he could over the duration of his illness. Although that wasn't Danny's first time being an internet meme, the gif of him inexplicably falling from the sky and crashing into a tree was possibly his most embarrassing publicly documented moment to date.

A knock on the door broke Danny out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said weakly.

"Hey Danny," Val pushed her way in the door, a plastic shopping bag hanging off of one of her arms.

Danny struggled up in a feeble attempt to sit a bit straighter. He was vaguely aware of the distinct odor coming from the toilet beside him. He was lucky Valerie has seen him in worse conditions before.

She sat down next to him. "How you feeling?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, all false bravado flying out the window.

She quietly surveyed the scene before her. Danny's pale, sickly face beaded with sweat. Purple circles laid under his sunken-in eyes. He clutched the hem of his shirt and averted his gaze to the side.

She pursed her lips, "Danny, you look like shit."

Danny snorted. "I feel like shit."

"I can see why Jazz forced you to stay home from patrol this week."

At the mention of patrol, Danny’s eyes lit up. “How are the ghosts this week? Have you been okay on your own? Has the Box Ghost been bothering you too much? Do you need any help tonight?”

A light smile touched Valerie’s lips. Even though it was an unspoken rule not to mention Danny’s obsession outright, she still found other ways to poke fun at him for it. “Danny, you can barely stand. Chill.”

A blush crept on Danny’s cheeks, and he rolled his eyes as another wave of nausea hit him at once. Before Valerie could so much as blink, Danny had lunged at the toilet bowl, dry heaving up any molecules still left in his stomach.

A pang of worry shot through Valerie. She frowned and reached over to gently rub his back, “This is getting worse.”

“I...know...” Danny ground out between coughs.

“I know you don’t want to...but I think we should call Vlad.”

He froze.

“He might know what’s going on,” Valerie said.

“Val, no. We can’t trust him,” Danny said, his voice cold.

Valerie crossed her arms and huffed. "Come on, don’t be thick. You’re a halfa, Vlad’s a halfa. Whatever you think about him—fine. But this has been going on for over a month now and it’s only getting worse. You need help, Fenton. You need someone’s help who actually understands halfa biology. Vlad’s the man for that, whether you like it or not.”

Danny slumped his shoulders. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Thank you,” Valerie said under her breath as she took out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts till she got to Vlad’s name, and hesitated. She hadn’t contacted him in months. After the whole debacle with Dani, she kept her contact with him at a minimum. When Vlad realized she knew Danny’s secret and by default, his, he stopped contacting her altogether. Interestingly enough, packages of replacement/upgraded weapons occasionally appear at her doorstep. She knew Danny noticed when broken equipment was suddenly replaced or she got a new gun, but he was kind enough to leave it alone.

Another retch from her boyfriend beside her was all she needed to finally push down on the button. She put the phone on speaker. After only two rings, the voice of an older man appeared on the other end of the line.

“Valerie, dear. To what do I owe the pleasure? Is your equipment working fine?”

Danny tensed at Vlad’s silky tone. He opened his mouth to respond with a biting comment, but his stomach had another idea.

Worry creased Vlad’s next words. “Valerie? What’s happening? Is everything alright?”

“Fine—I’m fine, Mr. Masters,” Valerie said, her eyes not leaving Danny’s figure. “Uh, it’s Danny.”

“Daniel? What’s wrong with him?”

“We’re, um, not sure. He can’t stop throwing up. He doesn’t...Halfas can’t get human illnesses, right?”

“Right...” Vlad muttered. “Valerie, I’m presuming I’m on speaker phone?”

“Yeah,” Valerie said.

“Alright then. Daniel?” Vlad called out.

“What.” Danny said flatly.

“Can you describe your symptoms to me please?” Vlad asked.

Danny closed his eyes and said, “Uh, I can’t...I can’t hold anything down. Every time I try to eat something it comes back up. I’m really dizzy and...I guess...I mean, I’ve had these stomach pains for a few weeks now. And headaches too. I’m sure it’s nothing but Valerie—”

“This has been going on for a month and it’s not getting any better, Vlad. We’re not sure what to do.”

“I’m glad you called me,” Vlad said, his tone much more serious than a minute ago.

“What is it?” Danny asked at the same time Valerie demanded, “Is everything going to be okay?”

There was a pause.

“Valerie, do you mind stepping out of the room for a second?”

Danny, despite his weak state, managed to push himself away from the toilet and grab the phone out of Valerie’s hands with inhuman speed. “What is it, fruitloop? Just spit it out.”

“Daniel, I know this may come as a shock to you but I do care about you,” Vlad said. “You know, this may not be a good conversation to have over the phone. Give me a minute. Daniel, I presume you’re in the bathroom upstairs?”

“...Yes.”

“Perfect.”

The phone line went dead and Danny slumped against the wall. He glanced over to the toilet and wrinkled his nose at the smell of his own stomach acid. With an abnormal amount of effort, he managed to flush the toilet.

“Sorry,” he glanced over to Valerie. “Sorry to drag you into this mess.”

“Danny, stop,” Valerie clipped, kissing his forehead lightly. “You’re my boyfriend and you’re ill. I’m not going to leave you to deal with this by yourself. I know you won’t let Sam or Tucker over but I’m not a pushover, okay?”

Danny rolled his eyes to counter the blush that tinted his cheeks. “Yeah, okay. I still...I know this ghost stuff can make you uncomfortable and I don’t want to ever put you in a position where you—”

“Oh my god, Fenton,” Valerie groaned. “Keep that up and this stupid bug isn’t going to be the only thing that’s gonna kill you.”

The room temperature dropped a few degrees. Danny and Valerie’s heads whipped over to the door where Vlad Masters walked through, dropping his invisibility.

"Mr. Masters!”

“Vlad.”

“Is everything alright with Danny?”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Vlad said.

Valerie would have breathed a sigh of relief if not for the grave look on his face as he surveyed the scene. “My my, you’ve let this get worse than I thought. I’m not sure if I have enough here for you...”

“Enough of what?” Danny asked.

Vlad sighed. “Daniel, are you sure you don’t want Valerie to leave?”

Danny glared up at him. “We’re a team, Vlad.”

"I can handle whatever you throw at us,” Valerie confirmed, letting her chest swell out in pride at Danny’s affirmation. Regardless of any of her past prejudices, she loved Danny. She didn’t care whatever ghostly-illness he had, she was going to get through this with him.

“Okay, it’s...not for the faint of heart though, Little Badger,” Vlad said, closing his eyes.

Something in Danny clicked, and he felt his eyes soften. Whatever this was...it was really bothering Vlad. “It’s okay, Vlad,” he said softly. “I can handle this.”

“Alright then,” Vlad nodded. “Daniel, you know you have a ghost core. It’s responsible for regulating and replenishing ectoplasm in your body.”

“I know this,” Danny said, looking quizzically up at Vlad. “I have an ice core.”

“Right,” Vlad said. “In normal ghosts, this is enough and they can live an eternity with their cores working fine. This isn’t quite the case with halfas though.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you know, Daniel, you’re more powerful than most ghosts. But you’re not a full-ghost. Scientifically speaking, we’re anomalies. Scientific paradoxes. We shouldn’t exist, and our cores know this.”

Alarms blared through Valerie’s brain. “You mean his core is trying to kill him?”

“Not quite,” Vlad said steadily. “But his core cannot keep up with his body’s demands. Halfa cores have to regulate not just ectoplasm, but how the ectoplasm interacts with the living aspects of the human in such a way that it won’t kill you. On top of that, you frequently expelling ectoplasm in forms like powerful ghost-rays puts more pressure on your already overworked core. Your core simply doesn’t have enough energy to do what you demand of it.”

“Hence the hunger,” Danny said, his blue eyes looking down.

“Exactly.”

Valerie ran a hand through her hair. “What’s the solution?”

Vlad reached into his pockets and pulled out a few vials filled with a familiar looking green substance. “Listen to your body, Little Badger. Your body is craving ectoplasm. You need to drink it.”

Realization hit Danny like a ton of bricks. “But isn’t that...that’s...”

“Low-level ecto-puses I took from Skulker’s care last week,” Vlad confirmed. “Purified ecto-plasm. You start developing a need for this once your halfa body solidifies its core. Think of it like a ghostly-puberty, if you will.”

“No...”

“Danny,” Valerie reached out and took Danny’s hand gently. “You’re starving yourself.”

“No, Val, you don’t understand—”

“I do,” Valerie looked at him, her gaze strong. “You said earlier that you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable around the ghostly-aspects of your life. Well, I’m not. There’s no other option, Danny. You’re going to die if you don’t drink the vials. You need to do this.”

Danny shook his head. “I—I can’t.”

Valerie wrapped her hands around Danny’s shoulders and leaned in, kissing him. It was gentle, reassuring, and comforting. Danny relished her touch.

“You can do this,” Valerie said, breaking it off. “You’re strong, Danny. You can do this.”

“Okay,” Danny took the vials.

“Little Badger,” Vlad said, meeting Danny’s eyes. “I’ve been doing this for a while now, you know. I...I can give you the vials if you want. Your moral compass is, well it’s different than mine. I know this is hard for you. It will get easier but, if you would like, you can just let me know when you need vials and I’ll give them to you.”

Danny breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Vlad. It means a lot.”

Vlad nodded, a rare kind smile dotting his lips.

Danny’s glanced one more time at his girlfriend before slowly opening the first vial. The metallic smell of ectoplasm tickled his nose and he found himself raising the vial to his lips.

#christmas truce #xmas truce #danny phantom #dp #fanfic

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slimyscrivener · 6 years

Text

Sugar Syrup Summoning Pt3

Our neophyte summoner attempts to explain the internet to a demon. Some looks are exchanged, an evening comes to a close.

Beginning ~~~~~ Previous ~~~~~ Next

As much as looking my demon in the face was daunting, having her stand behind me was in a whole different world of weird. Her body sounded slick, every simple shift or twitch of her body lingered at the edge of being audible. As I sat ensconced within my faux-leather office chair I could hear the sound of her breathing. A far away sound, like the sloshing of a distant bathtub. Once or twice she made as though to lean her arms on the chair back but stopped herself midway and instead placed her hooves awkwardly on her hips.

When the computer finished booting up from sleep mode she leaned in.

Her breath smelled of coffee, and her body gave off the aroma of sweet mushrooms. I felt myself getting hot around the cheeks again but for entirely more embarrassing reasons. She smelled like ooze, like slime on warm flesh, and if pressed I’m not sure I could accurately describe what that even meant in words without blushing madly. It made my brain feel foggy as though trying to peer through a car window on a humid day. My hesitation as I stared at the peak of her muzzle leaning past me became noticeable and she angled her head to look at me.

“It’s very colourful.” She said, the scent of coffee was a mundane detail I could cling to and I nodded in response.

“Yes, I like my, uh. My backdrop.” Which was a dull thing to say that the demon probably wouldn’t understand so I rounded to the task.

“Anyway, it’s sort of like a- a box of functions. I mean, it can do all kinds of things. The computer I mean.”

I opened up my word processor and starting to type at random.

“This would let me write up something and then I can have it printed over there.” I indicated my bulky old printer in the corner with a backward thrust of a thumb.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, a hooved hand gripping the plush side of my chair. A breath caught in my chest as she cheerfully continued.

“We have something like that in the offices, it’s a bit finicky for me though. I prefer something like this that stays put.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, neither the idea that demons had offices nor the concept of a computer that didn’t stay put. I felt my head swim at the idea that demons has computers IN their offices. She didn’t seem apt to explain, leaving me adrift in rapidly devolving thought, so I tried to carry on.

“Right, uh…” A deep breath in, then released.

“So, the net.”

Popping open my web browser, I preferred Narwhale-lite because Narwhale-premium takes up too much system resources and also because poverty, I navigated to my media feed.

“This…” I said, scrolling slowly, “is sort of an example. It’s a feed, uh, it’s a list of things my friends have said or news articles. People share them on the net and they get passed around. And my feed sort of aggregates all of that stuff for me so I can read it in one place. And the net is… like this huge collective storage space of information that keeps changing and evolving. I guess, and there’s people that manipulate it and use it for communication too.”

I turned to look at Lilwanyu, wondering if ‘aggregates’ was a confusing way to phrase it, or if that absolutely terrible explanation of the internet was just a mess, but she seemed rapt by the images on the screen. Eyes blinked, some wandered reading while others widened in some expression I could hardly ken.

She said, in a breathy murmur, “how fascinating..! And do you set it to your exact specifications for the information you want to collect? How much of your activity does it aggregate for other people using this same function? Does it only collect from events that are shared or does it do so by some other process?”

Lost for words, I had to think a moment. She’d grasped the concept faster than I had assumed she might, and even used the same terminology I had used back at me with surprising deftness. I needed to amend my explanation and get more technical before I accidentally started giving her the wrong idea.

When I clicked the mouse I found that I had gone a bit sweaty and wiped it down with the hem of my shirt before I continued.

“Y- yes. I mean, people have to put things on the net before they can be collected, and it only collects the stuff that I put up there too. I have my preferences set up for what it will share publicly and privately, and what it will show me from other people and sites.”

“Interesting…” She breathed, and I wondered if the demon hadn’t gotten… excited? I had the impression that she was gripping the seat more tightly, it had begun to list to the side ever so slightly. I realized it was leaning me in closer to her as she stooped in to look at the screen more closely. I had to actively scoot myself against the other arm rest to stop myself from physically touching her.

Though, for a moment, I wondered what it might feel like. Was she covered in soft, peach plush fur? Or perhaps it was slimy, as slick as its texture seemed to imply? I found myself staring at her arm where it curled out from under her shawl. Without thinking I followed the shape of it up to her hand, to the muzzle resting upon her palm. Most of her eyes were on the computer, but one was fixed firmly upon me. Its pupil was a thick band, like a goat’s eye, with a sclera of yellow like aging parchment. As I stared back at it, the pupil began to dilate.

It grew until it filled all available space within its socket. Ink black and shimmering like oil, as I watched it began to ooze at the corners, overflowing down the lines of her face. My mouth went dry, I felt breath pass over lips hanging open, but I couldn’t bear to look away. Oil slime tears bled into other eyes, and their pupils slowly turned to gaze at me. One by one, until my vision was filled with a field of eyes that shined like bubbles upon a darkened sea.

In my chest, my heart had started to quake, ribs were aching as though its beat sought escape from the cage of my bones. Something inside me was wanting, I’d never needed something so badly, but I couldn’t give the need a shape. It was formless, oozing around the edges. The eyes upon me did not judge, they were waiting.

Expectant.

I blinked.

“I had no idea humans had such tools.”

Her words jarred me so hard I slapped the mouse on the desktop with an awkward plastic clack.

If she noticed she didn’t mention it, continuing to chat as though the last thousand years of mutual staring had never occurred.

“This is quite sophisticated. Can you find information not aggregated by this function specifically?”

Nodding my way out of some distractingly slimy thoughts, I went through the motions of showing her a variety of my bookmarks without speaking. Going through news and cooking sites then segwaying into forums and webcomics. When she started to ask direct questions I mustered the will to speak, though it came out in a hoarse squeak at first. I wanted to call it a feeling of numbness but that was incorrect. My skin was buzzing, like an electric chill. I felt more exhausted than anything else, though her quiet cadence and curiosity began to sooth the sensation. More questions as I went, some of which I was unable to answer, she was exceptionally keen and quite interested in the technology of it. Eventually I asked if she wanted to mess around with it for a while.

“Oh..! May I?” She said, sudden excitement making her yank the chair ever so slightly. I yipped, jumping in my seat, causing it to spin and face her directly. Her arm moved with the chair and she turned with it so that the two of us were face to face.

The intent look that she gave me made my head swim. I wasn’t certain if I was ready to have her full attention again, especially after that previous… whatever it was. Just, being so close to her made me feel so vulnerable, in a indescribable way. I never considered a demon being disarmingly sincere, but that was the best way I could describe it, when she looked at me I could tell she was looking directly into me. In a person I would be hard pressed to understand this kind of behavior, these looks she gave me. In a demon, I was distressingly without a clue. It had a simultaneous, ‘this demon wants to eat me’, and, ‘this demon wants to eat me’ sort of feeling.

“Y....” I stammered, awkwardly attempting to casually lean back in the seat, “Y-yes..? Sure I’ll uh, I’ll set up a guest user account for you since you’re going to be-”

A thought struck me, sudden enough to break through a new bout of brain fog, and I sat up again.

“Wait. How long are you going to be here?”

Some eyes started to glance about the room, the middlemost one stared up at the ceiling. While she thought on it I quickly put together another account for her and logged myself out, giving myself something to do that wasn’t staring my demon in the face.

“Well”, she said, “I presume it will have to do with how long it takes me to satisfy your request?”

“I guess I should make up the couch?” I frowned, standing up from the computer and gesturing at the seat. “Here, the password is just your name backwards.”

As she settled into the chair, curling her tail around her hips and bringing her legs up to perch on the seat, I continued to think out loud.

“I guess you can use the other room. I haven’t had a chance to fill it yet. There’s just a mattress though, she took the box spring.”

It had been a fraught sort of parting when my last roommate left.

“That will be fine.” Lilwanyu responded, her voice having a distant quality as she henpecked the keyboard. Luckily the mouse was well suited to a three fingered hand and she picked up on that quickly enough. Then again, she was also writing and speaking just fine in English, now that I thought of it.

I watched her for a few minutes, a thought slowly creeping up on me. Was this an incredibly terrible idea? Turning a demon loose on the internet with unrestricted access to what had apparently, to her, been unknown technology? Even if it was, I really had no means to stop her from doing so. Again the thought of binding her came to mind, particularly the part where I hadn’t done so.

A feeling like a snowball traveling downhill was picking up speed. Lights turning on in my head. I felt panic beginning to build.

“H-hey…” I tried to effect a casual tone and only succeeded in a nonchalant squeak.

“S-so, what are you uh, looking up th-there..?”

“Humans”, came the distracted response. I had the strangest feeling of being just a little hurt that she hadn’t spared a single eye to look at me as she said it.

“Oh, haha. Well...” No more words were forthcoming and I shut my mouth.

I watched her read wikipedia articles in silence for a few minutes before I realized that at this point I was a host, she was a guest and, there were certain expected behaviors.

“I’m going to go make up your bed, alright? You, I mean you sleep, right?”

A few eyes turned to look at me as she responded.

“Yes I do”, she said, “thank you.”

It was fast, this change from being terrified at her attention to being relieved. I hadn’t actually spoken with anyone, outside of cash register canned responses, in months...

Had it really been months?

Hesitating, each step out of the room followed by a glance back at the great horse monster using my computer, I went out into the living room. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling, standing there in the center of a carpet that crunched under foot, it almost felt like a normal night once she wasn’t in view anymore. But the apartment felt less empty, even just knowing she was there out of sight. It was a nice feeling. Screwing my heel up against the fabric, listening to the crisp sound, I glanced down.

The rug’s texture felt as though it had been badly burned, but it looked relatively the same as before. I rubbed the toe of my slipper on it and watched fibres flake off in tiny bits. Perhaps I shouldn’t have used it as a ritual ground, but the concentric circles seemed like a good idea at the time. Wouldn’t the unbroken circles have been a good binding for a demon? Or did the process of the summoning destroy them somehow in a way I couldn’t have foreseen?

There were also several stubs of candle melted into my carpet, the landlord will be furious if I can’t scrape that out, and an overturned offering dish. It looked as though it had toppled over when Lilwanyu appeared and its contents released onto the ground. I stooped to look and feel the carpet but, there was no trace of the liquid. Originally, I had been using honey and a variety of morbid ingredients but tonight I had the inspiration to just dump out a bottle of simple syrup, like what you’d use for cocktails. Just that, some blood of course, and the other thing.

‘The other thing’ I eventually found under the sofa, a perfect orb of selenite. At least I assumed it was perfect, that’s what the ebay seller had assured me. Presently when II picked it up I felt an electric jolt that made every muscle in my arm spasm. Dropping it with a yelp, it rolled sedately back under the couch. I clutched my smarting hand to my chest and stared at the sofa.

“Whatever. Just… just stay there I guess.” I mumbled.

Standing, I went through the motions of making the mattress into a bed. My only spare sheets were cast offs from a nearby hospice, run through a washing machine and several bleach baths. It was still cheaper than buying new bed linens. In the process of fitting sheets and locating comforters I felt exhaustion creep in to replace the adrenaline of the last few hours. When I walked back into my room the sight of the demon hardly stirred the sleep that had begun to fog my mind.

I let her know the bed was ready and muzzily explained how to put the computer into sleep mode when she was done. As I finished Lilwanyu turned in the chair to look at me.

“Thank you, I won’t be a bother while you’re sleeping will I?” Genuine concern, so many eyes watching me, so tired.

Shaking my head and waving a hand casually I responded.

“Naw, I sleep like a rock when I actually get to sleep. Having someone around makes it easier.”

“Oh.” She said, “then, goodnight to… ”

The demon did something strange:

she blushed.

The flesh of her cheeks and neck blossomed in purple hues as her expression flashed through frightened, to anxious, and then settled into exasperation.

“I’m so sorry, I never asked for your name.” She said, from her tone I thought at first she was angry at me, but I recognized it as disappointment in herself. Ah yes, I am very well accustomed to that feeling.

She hadn’t asked, I realized, and I had never bothered to give it to her. Wow. It has been a long time since I’ve talked to anyone I guess.

I laughed to assuage her feelings. Trying to sooth the emotions of a demon..! What a strange day.

I said, “it’s Alice.”

As an afterthought I added, “She. Earth.”

Lilwanyu nodded, then with a smile she said, “goodnight Alice. Tomorrow we shall begin fulfilling your wish.”

My heart abruptly throbbed in my chest at the sight of her teeth, at just the bare sliver that showed when the demon smiled. I couldn’t put together a response to her assertion so instead I simply said goodnight and rolled up into bed.

With covers over head I calmed my heart back down, luckily the weight of sleep was there to make the work easier. I amused myself by thinking how absurd it was to be napping as a demon was busily polluting my search history with things like “humans, how to talk to them” and “how do humans make friends.”

As I fell asleep, “Humans, top recipes”, came to mind as well but in the half conscious mind of an exhausted young woman it really didn’t bother me that much. Honestly, it would have been a lot easier to just ask her to eat me, that would have solved all of my problems pretty nicely regardless of her interpretation.

…

Oh.

Damn.

#trans protagonist #demon summoning #demon #short fiction

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jestbee · 7 years

Text

Us, As Told by Other People

Written for the 28+ Phandom Meetup, this fic grew too long for me to finish in time. But here is it.

(~8k, pining, smut, getting together, friends to lovers) | [AO3 Link]

Big shoutout to @killingmeitsso2yearsago and @adorkablephil for listening to me rabbit on about this one. And to @cosmicphandom2k16 for hosting the meet up that inspired me to write this.

Summary: People make a lot of assumptions about Dan and Phil, but what happens when Dan starts believing some of them. You can’t actually ship yourself with your best friend, can you?

Or: the five times Dan was guilty of over-thinking things, and the one time he wasn’t.

It starts as an accident. Mindless scrolling turned into lurking on fan blogs, turned into making an anonymous blog in order to like things so he could save them and… well, it all just sort of fell apart from there.

It was weird, being told about your life by the internet, and he found it strange how so many things were just accepted to be true on there. Apparently his daddy kink was alive and well but also, more worryingly, in certain corners of the web the question about whether he and Phil were an item wasn’t even being asked. It was just accepted as fact.

The ‘proof’ was the worst. A long list of behaviours that apparently proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they were an item. Stood too close, let their gazes linger too long, moved in each other’s space without thinking. They were too close, too forgiving of each other’s presence, too much, too much of everything. And the trouble was, Dan started to notice it too. He saw patterns and meaning in the everyday where he hadn’t before. Prompted by the insistence of unknown people on the internet with his own face in their display pictures, he started to question everything.

“God, I barely slept at all.” Phil said, moving into the kitchen with tiny, uncoordinated steps.

“Yeah?” Dan said, pulling mugs from the cupboard.

“Yeah. Don't know why, I was really tired.”

“Why are you awake now then? Go back to bed.”

He watched as Phil reached for the cupboard above the oven and pulled down the box of cereal.

“Heard you up and about.” Phil shrugged, as though that answered the question. He yawned and began pouring out cereal.

Dan simply hummed in response and moved around Phil to get the milk for the coffee, closing the cupboard door Phil had left open in the process.

When he was done with the milk he slid it across the counter top to Phil.

“I was thinking we could get lunch at that weird noodle place after the meeting today.” Phil was saying as he poured milk. “I can't believe they did strawberry noodles, what even is that?”

“Sounds good.” Dan said, distracted now.

Phil was babbling about the meeting and unusually flavoured noodles and all Dan could focus on was that somehow, without needing to be asked or discussing it first, they had made a small division of labour.

As they left the kitchen Dan had a coffee in one hand and a bowl of cereal made by Phil in the other. Similarly, Dan had made coffee for Phil without even thinking about it.

They moved around each other with practised ease, sinking into the couch at the same time, putting on anime they'd been watching, picking up from the last episode.

It was troubling. Was it troubling? Perhaps Tumblr had just got in his head. There was nothing wrong with having a comfortable routine with your housemate. They were best friends after all.

He tried not to believe that Phil, despite lack of sleep and the want to be curled up in bed, had gotten up just to spend time with Dan. Just because this was their routine and he didn't want to miss it.

He tried to convinced himself, but when Phil nodded off on the couch once breakfast was finished, curled in on himself, head tipped towards Dan, it wasn't as easy to believe.

ii.

It wasn't just Tumblr. Dan started noticing people they actually knew making assumptions too.

“Hey, where's Phil?” he heard someone ask.

“Over by the bar,” Dan responded without looking up.

“Thanks, I knew you'd know.” There a giggle. A small one. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did and yet…

“What do you mean I'd know?” Dan whips his head up to see a sheepish Jack Howard hovering by his elbow.

“God, Um.” Jack looked shocked at Dan's response, hand coming up to cup the back of his own neck. “I just meant, well, you always know where he is.”

“I don't… I…” Dan frowned. “Not always.”

“Okay Dan,” and the smile was back in place, awkward moment seemingly passed. “You know better than I do. Always losing the other half of my duo. I've got no idea where Dean is, probably causing a ruckus somewhere. Maybe I should know. Fuck. I'm going to get blamed for it aren't I?”

Dan laughed, because that was the appropriate response. He was only slightly perturbed that he’d referred to them as a ‘duo’ at least it wasn’t ‘couple’. Jack comparing them to him and Dean just meant a comparison to a working partner, nothing more. “You'd better find him then.”

With a final good natured laugh Jack was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Sure enough, he caught up with Phil who was stood chatting the bar. Dan couldn't consciously remember how he'd known that, they'd been separated as soon as they'd entered this party so God knows how Dan had known where he was. Was he that conscious of his friend’s movements around a room? Tracking him in his peripheral vision all the while?

Dan caught Phil's eye as he looked up and felt a weird sinking sensation in his stomach as he smiled. He couldn't explain why.

Instead, he downed the drink in his hand and went to order another one, because it was easier than thinking about it.

Later though, drunk and loose in the taxi home, he couldn't help but ask.

“Do you know where I am?”

Phil's eyebrows knitted together and he didn't even verbalise a response, simply tipped his head in a manner that suggested Dan wasn't making much sense.

“I mean at parties and stuff, do people ask you where I am?”

“You mean on the rare occasions we're not stood next to each other? Yeah, sometimes”

“And do you know?”

Phil looked confused again.

“I mean--” Dan attempts, swimming through the thick fog that has descended over him.

“Yeah I know what you mean, I just hadn't thought about it before.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I guess I do. But I suppose it's because I know I'm going to have to point you out or drag you into a conversation eventually so it saves time, you know?” he laughs, “I didn't even know I was doing it.”

“Me either.” Dan admitted, satisfied with Phil's reasoning behind it. “Is it weird?”

“No,” Phil shrugged leaning back in his seat, “We're like, business partners, most discussions I have at work things like that will involve you at some point.”

“I guess you're right.” Dan nodded. “But, just, go out sometime this week okay? And don't tell me where or when you're going.”

Phil laughed good-naturedly. “Sure. If it will make you feel better.”

He reached out and patted Dan's leg reassuringly and Dan, alcohol-fuzzy and slow, stared at the spot Phil's fingers had touched the whole way home.

And Dan thinks it will be fine. Until Phil is on his way out of the door on Wednesday and Dan shouts goodbye down the stairs followed by “Say hi to PJ for me.”

Phil blinks up at him and grins. “Sure. But Dan? That's a little creepy.”

“I know,” Dan says as the door swings shut, “I know.”

iii.

It keeps happening. It's not even the big stuff, that's the problem. Because as much as Dan could try to curb his behaviours with the most obvious stuff, it always ends up being the unconscious little things that resonate the most, that make him question things.

The way they reach out to each other, touch without thought. The press of a hand to a arm to get the other’s attention, gentle pushes against the rib cage in response to a joke, consoling palms swept gently across shoulder blades in times of stress. IT’s all too much and it makes Dan aware of his body, calculating the space left between them and wondering if it’s too much or too little for any given situation. He used to be able to work it out easily, now it seems he’s lost the skill, finds himself drifting closer. But Phil doesn’t mind, or if he does he hasn’t said anything, but Dan knows it’s probably only a matter of time.

Other people though. Other people making assumptions is what really sends Dan’s brain into overdrive. It’s easy to notice when the fans do it, but it never occurs to him that people in their lives do too.

It sneaks up on him, when his phone rings in mid January.

“Hello?”

“Dan,” Louise says happily, “Hey sweetie. I'm just calling to find out about Phil's birthday.”

And maybe he's being thinking too much, and he's definitely been on Tumblr too much because instead of simply telling her he says “Why would you assume I'm doing something for Phil's birthday?”

“Well, aren't you?”

“Not the point.” Dan mumbles, dropping down on his bed. “I resent the assumption.”

“That's a weird thing to say.”

Louise won't ever let Dan get away with things, she's always calling him out on his bullshit.

“Sorry,” Dan apologises, “I am doing something for Phil's birthday, party round here. I'll text you the details.”

“What's going on, Dan?”

Dan stays silent for a moment but Louise gives him the space, doesn't let him off the hook.

“I just, why do people always assume things about me… and Phil?”

“Assume things? I don't… I mean, I hadn't thought I was assuming anything. What has brought this on?”

“I don't mean you.”

“Then who? The internet? Because honestly you sort of bring that on yourselves. It's been your branding for years and you really do mess with them a bit.”

“No,” Dan says hurriedly, “I know, I don't mean that. The shipping and stuff, when it's ridiculous and made out of nothing. I get that, it's just…”

“Daniel Howell, exactly how much time are you spending on your Tumblr tag?”

“Not alot.”

“Really?”

“Okay. But sometimes I think… like, when they point stuff out that I didn't even notice, you know. Sometimes…”

“You believe them? Dan, that's ridiculous. You can't start shipping yourself.”

“Ugh. I know.”

“Well then.”

“I just mean, it's easy to start reading into stuff when you're given situations from a third party perspective. There’s only so many loops of gifs I can watch before I start believing their interpretation of that moment. It’s just so easy to get swept along.”

Louise hums in agreement. “It is. But, tell me, do you want it to be true?”

Dan is silent.

“Dan are you reading all of this in to it because you want there to be some truth to it? Are you hoping?”

“I…” He snaps his mouth shut for a second, frowning into the phone. “I just want to know why everyone assumes things. Like, it's just expected that I'm the one doing Phil's birthday thing.”

“You're best friends.” Louise says, “Sure, you're closer than most but, that's just who you guys are. It's doesn't have to be any more than that. Unless you want it to be.”

Dan takes a deep breath and, in a rush so that he doesn't lose courage, finally let's out the thought he'd been holding in. “I don't know if I do.”

“Well I can't answer that for you hun.”

“I know. I've just never even thought about it before but now… every little thing. Why is it so difficult?”

“I don't think it has to be.”

“How?”

“Well, you know. Stay off Tumblr for one.”

“Obviously.”

“And,” Louise says with a sigh “Talk to Phil.”

“Lou…”

“I'm serious Dan, it's the only way.”

“I’m not even sure what I'd say.” Dan admits, “I don't even think it makes sense to me.”

“Yeah,” Louise sympathises, her voice soft and lilting “I know. But you're the only one that can work that out.”

“Right.” Dan says standing up from his bed as if willed into action. “Less of this, it's stupid. It's all just too much Tumblr and not enough sleep. Honestly I don't even know what I'm going on about.”

“Okay,” Louise says, but she doesn't sound like she believes him.

“Party. Here. Weekend of Phil's birthday week. I'll text you.”

“Right, thanks Dan. I'll see you then.”

“See you.”

Dan stands in the middle of his room for a moment, adrift in the middle of his carpet. He knows he should let it go, it is just over thinking and absolute nonsense considering that he hadn't even noticed any of this before. But he can't shake it, the little voice in his head that keeps asking what it all means and whether Phil thinks about these things too and whether any of it is normal. He's aware of himself at all moments and he can't be at ease knowing that his unconscious actions might mean something more than he'd originally intended them to. Especially when he can't be entirely sure that he hadn't meant them on some level.

“I know what you're up to” comes a voice from the hallway.

“Shit Phil, you made me jump.”

“Sorry,” Phil grins.

“What do you mean you know what I'm up to?”

“The party. I hope it wasn't supposed to be a surprise. If so, you're pretty crap at keeping it.”

“No,” Dan says, “Not a surprise. I just hadn't gotten around to sorting it yet. You didn't have other plans did you?”

“No,” Phil shrugs, “I just kind of assumed you'd be…”

Dan wonders how much of the conversation Phil heard and what he might have discerned from it.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I am.”

Somehow it doesn't make him feel weird when Phil assumes, he feels warm. His face could be flushing but he isn't sure.

“Good. And don't worry, I don't know anything else about it. I only caught the end of your conversation there.”

“Good.” Dan nods, “That's good. But, it's not a surprise. You can have anything you want.”

“I trust you.” Phil smiles, soft and small, “You'll sort it.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, smiling back “I will.”

iv.

Dan knows he’s really reading into it all when his over-thinking brain thinks Phil’s mum might be in on it. Of course, she has always been accepting of Dan, drawing him into the tight circle of their family without comment. There is always a spot at their dinner table, and Dan has always been grateful.

So he tries not to bat an eye when Phil is on the phone to his mum one lazy evening and says “Yeah, he’s fine.” and “I’ll let him know you liked it.” and “Yes mum, do you just want to talk to him?”

He probably shouldn’t assume that Phil’s mum is talking about him but, who else would it be?

Phil gestures with the phone a few moments later in Dan’s direction and removes any doubt. Dan accepts it in silence because it's normal, or it would be, if he could just stop overthinking everything.

“Dan,” she says as soon as he gets the phone to his ear.

“Hello.”

“Tell that son of mine that you’re coming up next weekend will you?”

“I am?”

“He hasn’t even told you has he? I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. Always forgetting. Yes, cousin Rita’s birthday. Not Phil’s cousin, not even my cousin… come to think of it I don’t know whose cousin she is.”

Dan laughs slightly, trying to keep up, catching Phil’s eye on the other end of the couch. Phil stretches his legs out and wriggles his toes under Dan’s thigh. That’s new.

“Anyway” she’s continuing, “We’re having a party and I told Phil that of course you’re invited. He says that you wouldn’t want to come but I said of course you would. You would, wouldn’t you Dan?”

“Err… yeah.” Dan swallows, feeling how cold Phil’s feet are against his leg. He’s only wearing pyjama pants and Phil hasn’t got socks on and for God’s sakes it isn’t like this is in any way a strange situation but Dan can’t stop focussing on the sensation of Phil’s toes pressed under his leg. “Of course I will.”

Phil is looking at him intently and Dan shrugs.

“If that’s okay” Dan adds, mostly for Phil.

“Well of course it is,” she says in a rush, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you both. You really should come to visit more often. We miss you, you know.”

Dan laughs, but he isn’t sure it really sounds sincere, because he’s pretty sure that isn’t normal. Since when did people’s parents accept strangers into their families so readily? The Lesters were warm and inviting people but this was a stretch, thinking of Dan in the same breath as thinking about their son.

“We’ll see you next weekend.” Dan reassures and watches Phil’s eyebrows shoot up.

He says his goodbyes and hangs up, passing the phone back to Phil.

“Did you get the guilt trip too?” Phil asks, removing his feet from Dan’s leg.

“She mentioned she hadn’t seen… us in a while.”

“Yeah. I try to get up every few weeks but, we’ve been really busy you know?”

“I know.” Dan nods as Phil twists in his seat to flop down on the couch.

“We really should visit more often.” Phil sighs. He lands so that the top of his head is now pressed where his feet were, crown brushing Dan’s thigh. “So you’re coming to the thing?”

“I mean, not if you don’t want me to.” Dan clarifies, resisting the urge to put his hand in Phil’s hair. It comes from nowhere and he vows to stay off Tumblr tonight, because this is getting ridiculous.

“No, of course I want you to… I mean, whatever, you might as well.” Phil shrugs, “I just thought you wouldn’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be boring, it's just a family thing. A small thing for a distant relative. I don’t know…” he trails off and Dan can see the genuine look on Phil’s face. “We have to go to that panel thing with the BBC the next day.”

“I’ll come.” Dan insists, “Like you said, I haven’t seen your mum in ages and… well it’ll be good to get away won’t it? Besides, the panel is up that way, we'll be closer if anything.”

“Yeah,” Phil says, closing his eyes, “It makes sense really.”

“Yeah.”

When they arrive at Phil’s parents’ house the next weekend they are greeted with hugs and Dan is quite swiftly passed a drink of something strong.

“Drink it dear,” Phil’s mum says in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’ll need it.”

“Oh god, I will?” Dan says, making his eyes go wide and trying to stop the rush of affection he feels for this family.

“Cousin Rita,” she says glancing up at Phil with a knowing look.

“I told you.” Phil says with a slight grimace.

“Just ignore her,” Phil’s mum says, “She won’t be told.” She swipes a hand across both of their shoulders, dusting off invisible lint. “You both look so handsome.” she pinches Dan’s cheek and reaches up to pat Phil’s head. “I’ve put you both in your room Phil, go drop your stuff and come and mingle, there’s a lot of people that want to say hi.”

With that she wanders into the party leaving Dan wondering who won’t be told what.

The rest of the evening passes quickly and with so many small awkward encounters that Dan is fairly glad that Phil stays by his side so that he doesn’t have to waste any more of his brain’s capacity subconsciously tracking him around the room. He still hasn’t dropped the habit, however much he told himself that he would.

When they meet the infamous Rita she announces loudly, to the room, that it is so good to finally meet Phil’s ‘special friend’. Dan thinks he could be reading into the elderly relative’s proclamation a little bit, due to his recent rumination on the subject, but she proceeds to explain that her new neighbours are ‘two lovely gay gentleman’ but that Dan and Phil make a ‘much more handsome couple by far’ so Dan’s pretty sure that he was spot on with his interpretation.

Dan is mortified, red in the face, but Phil gets him another drink and pleads with his eyes for Dan not to say anything.

Similar conversations happen with a number of Phil’s relatives who seem to be under the impression that because Dan and Phil live together that they also live together. Phil doesn’t seem to want to cause embarrassment for relatives he won’t see again for a long time so he doesn’t contradict them, and Dan doesn’t either.

The drinks keep coming and Dan is warm and Phil is leaning somewhat by the time they get some space. Dan has dropped his guard and has let his mind run wild with speculation and as he accepts yet another compliment on how happy Phil looks, and how lucky he is to have a friend like Dan, he begins to let himself imagine that it’s true.

It’s innocent at first, and he doesn’t mean to, but as he replies with “I’m quite lucky too” he catches Phil’s eye. His friend smiles shyly and nods a little and Dan almost thinks he might be going along with it.

They don’t outright agree to play along. But it happens anyway.

They drift closer, as if they’ve been maintaining a sort of distance between them up to now and have finally relaxed the tension. Their shoulders brush, fingers gravitating to a lower back to move the other through the crowd. Hands brush as they pass each other drinks, lips brush the soft shell of an ear as they lean close to speak over the music and Dan lets himself just, be.

It is the most free he has felt in a long time and suddenly, he feels as though he doesn’t want to go back to leaving that gap between them.

Phil slips a hand into his on the way up the stairs once the party is over. They are both a little worse for wear in the drink department and Dan can excuse the hand holding with the fact that they both sway against the banister.

“That was mad.” Phil says once they reach his room. He drops Dan’s hand and sits on the bed, lifting a leg to pull off his shoe. Dan tries not to feel disappointed at the loss.

“Completely mental” he agrees instead.

“Shit,” Phil says as his shoe flies off with too much force and he is propelled backwards on to the bed.

Dan lets out a loud raucous laugh, bending at the waist. Unfortunately, this only serves to tip him forwards too and Dan falls face first on to the bed beside Phil.

They laugh together for a few moments, shaking and rolling on the bed so that they move closer. Soon, the thread of what they were even laughing at disappears and they are simply looking at each other, matches grins gracing their features.

“Tonight was mad,” Dan repeats, “but I had fun.”

“Me too.” Phil agrees, reaching out a hand to cover Dan’s where it is spread on the duvet between them. “I liked… not having to contradict everything all the time.”

Dan’s eyes must go wide and he feels his lips part.

“I mean,” Phil corrects, “There is nothing to deny, of course. I mean… it was nice not having to worry about it all the time. To just let people think whatever the hell they want.”

Dan nods slowly, lets his eyes slip shut and blames the drink for what he says next.

“Do you ever… have you ever thought about it?”

Phil goes silent for a moment and Dan almost thinks he might have fallen asleep.

“I’ve thought about it.” Phil whispers finally. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Dan admits, “Sometimes too much.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Phil announces.

Dan freezes when feels Phil roll away. It’s only when he hears Phil continuing to get changed that he dare move, safe in the knowledge that Phil hasn’t left the room because Dan has pushed this too far.

“We need to go to sleep.” Phil says, insistent and final, and Dan drags himself up to get changed too.

They finally climb into the bed beside each other, which in itself should be weird but the alcohol is lending a pleasant sense of ‘not-giving-a-fuck’ to Dan’s brain and he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to overthink this one right about now.

“Thanks for coming to the party,” Phil says as they drift off to sleep, flat on their backs on separate edges of the bed.

“Thanks for having me,” Dan says, and he means it.

He loses himself to thinking a few minutes later, imagining what it would be like to always have conversations like he did tonight, to always let the space between them dissolve, to collapse the boundaries they’ve built up, to fall asleep next to Phil like this every night. Thinking of this, he finally sleeps.

The next time it is pretty much his fault. He hadn't checked the travel plans for the panel closely enough, hadn't really thought he'd had to because this was the BBC and he's so sure that they know what is and isn't going on in the world of Dan and Phil that it hadn't crossed his mind.

But it turns out, whatever unknown person in a random office somewhere who is responsible for booking hotels has either been vastly uninformed or is an actual shipper because as they drop their bags on the hotel room floor they come to the slow realisation that there is only one bed.

“Well,” Phil shrugs, “Here we go again.”

“Is this becoming a weird pattern?”

“Nah,” Phil says.

“Should we say something? Try to switch rooms?”

“I mean, it doesn't bother me. We should probably drop it into conversation at the radio station at some point but… does it bother you?”

“No,” Dan says and realises that it doesn't, really. “It doesn't.”

“Good. Right, panel. I think some of the others are meeting in the hotel bar for coffee before we head over, you want to go down?”

“Definitely.”

It turns out this thing is bigger than he'd thought and there are even Americans. Which means there is even an awkward encounter with Cat to navigate. He's thankful for the coffee in his system to make it tolerable but less thankful that Phil gets dragged away within minutes of ordering it.

“Hey stranger,” Cat says, cheerful and loud in his ear.

“Hi Cat.”

“Long time no see.”

“Yeah, busy times huh?”

And while it's true, they both know that isn't really the reason.

Somehow they've found themselves separated from the crowd, perched on the end of a table while everyone else is in conversation with each other.

They talk for five minutes before she asks.

“So,” and she flicks her hair out of her eyes distractedly, “Any gossip? Potential love interests? Come on, what's going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Dan insists. “Definitely no love interests.”

“You sure?”

“Come on Cat, when does that ever work out for me?”

“It will,” she assures him.

Dan purses his lips for a moment and really does try not to ask. He hears the words falling from his own lips before he's made up his mind to say them but once it's happened he's fairly intrigued to know the answer.

“Why didn't it ever worked out with us? You know, just so I can get a handle on where I'm going wrong.”

Somewhere across the room Phil is laughing at something Hazel Hayes is saying and Dan feels a grin on his own face. Phil looks up, catches Dan's eye and smiles. He tips his head as if to ask if Dan's okay and Dan just nods.

“It's Phil.” Cat says bluntly.

“What?”

“Phil… is the, you know, reason.”

“You like Phil?”

Cat laughs, it's warm and not at all mocking. “No.”

“You don’t like Phil?”

“Phil is literal sunshine, I defy anyone not to like Phil, come on.”

Dan feels his brows furrow. “You think… I like Phil?”

Cat is suddenly serious, turning in her seat until she is facing him. She sighs before speaking.

“I can't answer that. All I know is that regardless of where you guys draw the line in your relationship it's never visible enough for anyone else to be able to see.”

“I don't understand.”

“When something exciting happens, who do you tell?”

Dan frowns again.

“When you think about doing something you’ve always wanted to do, or to go travelling, or hell, see a movie, who do you see next to you doing that stuff?”

Dan licks a lip as if thinking, but this is the one thing he doesn’t have to overthink. At least not the initial image of those things, the implications of it though… that’s another story.

“Fair point.” he settles for saying.

“It's difficult for someone to get close to you and try to be the most important part of your life when that role pretty securely taken up already.”

“But people's friends are important.” Dan insists. “With the absence of a romantic possibility, wouldn’t you usually imagine your best friend for those things?”

He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince, her or himself.

“Yes,” Cat nods, a soft small hand on his arm, “But Dan, when that possibility comes along, people usually make room in their lives for new people, rearrange things, make a girlfriend or boyfriend some space to develop in that role. But…”

“I don't?”

Cat shrugs, “It felt like it wasn't even an option.”

“Oh.”

“I don't mind,” Cat corrects, “It wasn't meant to happen and it's not like I'm still sore about it or anything.” She smiles, all teeth.

“That's good, I guess.”

“Do you think… well, I mean.. not to sound like a weird fangirl or something but what if the reason you can't let anyone in is because Phil is the moment important person… in more ways than he already is. What if you don’t want to change that, ever.”

Dan glances over at his friend.

“You should see the way you look when you think he can't see you,” he says when he doesn’t respond.

“What? No I…”

“Even more though, you should see the way he looks when he thinks you can't see him.”

Dan shakes his head and tries not to let that thought invade. Somehow though, it does anyway.

vi.

The final straw is when he starts projecting it onto Phil. Curse Cat and her putting the stupid thought in his head, but as soon as it’s wriggled in there it sets up camp and Dan can hardly stop himself from reading into Phil’s actions now, as well as his own.

He’s asking himself questions every second of the day. Is it usual for best friends to be so emotionally codependent? It can’t be normal for a roommate to be the person that knows you better than anyone else ever has. But then, they’ve never been normal.

He barely has to finish sentences.

“Can you pass me the--” is met with the precise thing he’d wanted.

“I’m hungry,” results in Phil cooking the exact thing he’d been craving because, shock horror, he’d been craving the same thing because they’d seen it on some stupid tv show earlier that day.

Utter silence is met with compassion. Quiet comfort in the form of space, or allowing Dan to choose the movie they put on and then ignore. It’s sitting shoulder to shoulder on one end of their couch even though the other end is completely empty. It’s Phil not asking to fill the silence because he knows Dan can’t, and Dan offering Phil the same in return.

There isn’t much Dan doesn’t overthink these days and it’s almost inevitable that he’ll have to tackle the problem at some point. He’s been spending so long taking everyone else’s assumptions and opinions on their relationship, he thinks maybe it’s time to ask Phil what he thinks, or at least tell Phil what he’s feeling. If only he could actually work it out.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asks again, because it harks back to an earlier conversation, and it seems like a good place to start. It’s familiar. Safe.

He doesn’t know if Phil can read minds, or if it’s just because he can see Dan has Tumblr open on his laptop, but Phil understands what he’s talking about.

“I think about it,” he nods, looking pensive but not actually looking up from his computer. “But, you don’t need to worry, you’re not actually in love with me Dan.”

“How do you know?”

Phil smirks, “because I’d know if you were.”

“What if I didn’t even know?”

“How would you not know if you were in love with someone?” Phil still isn’t looking at him, but Dan can tell from the way his eyes stop tracking over the screen that he isn’t paying attention to what’s on his computer either. He eyes keep slipping sideways, glancing in his peripheral vision.

Dan shrugs, because he knows Phil can see it. “It could happen.”

“Well, I don’t think so. If you’re in love, then you’re in love. And you Dan, you’re not in love. So it’s fine.”

“I just think it’s a bit presumptuous isn’t it? To assume I’m not.”

Phil does turn to look at him then.

“Are you trying to convince me that you’re in love with me? Or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Dan just bites his lip and can’t think of what to say, because he’s not even sure any more because it’s all just wrapped up with other people’s opinions and assumptions they’ve made. Maybe it’s not even possible for him to know anymore.

“Do you think it’s possible to overthink yourself out of love?”

“With you Dan, I think it’s possible to overthink yourself out of anything. Or into anything. Coffee?”

Dan marvels. How can Phil go make coffee right now, hasn’t he just said that he might be in love with him? Or has he? Has he really said anything at all or, for all his words, has he said absolutely nothing?

“No, thanks.” Dan says quietly.

“Probably for the best, it’ll only make your brain work even faster than it already is.”

Phil rises from the couch and pauses for a moment, leaning to run a finger through Dan’s fringe, pushing it from his face. It’s surprising, and Dan doesn’t really know what to make of it but before he can ask, Phil leaves to room.

It’s time, he thinks, to stop asking for other people’s opinions and just sort it out for himself. He takes the first step, and closes the lid of his laptop, cutting off Tumblr’s hold on him and equally, silencing a million voices.

The next step is the logic. To try and piece it out.

Falling in love is a messy and complication business and it’s not something he’s ever tried before. Perhaps because it’s not something one usually has to try at. It’s a shame, he thinks, because if only he could work it out it could be great. Because if it turns out all of his behaviours add up to having fallen in love with Phil, then all of Phil’s behaviours should add up to him having fallen in love with Dan too. At least, that’s the logical angle. Two plus two equals four. Dan plus Phil equals…. Well, he’s not sure.

He spends a few hours staring into space on the couch and Phil mercifully doesn’t return so he’s left with his thoughts. It isn’t until hours later that he rises, pads carefully and determinedly down the corridor to Phil’s room and knocks softly.

“Uh huh?” Phil calls, letting Dan know he can go in.

“You’re right.” Dan says upon entering the room, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

He doesn’t want to shut the door behind him because it feels like he’s trapping them both in there, he hovers near the entrance, unsure and timid.

“Not that I’m not glad,” Phil grins, “But what am I right about?”

“I haven’t fallen in love with you.”

“Oh,” Phil says, grin dropping, “That’s… I mean, was that in question?”

“Yes.” Dan nods, “It was.”

“Well, then I’m.. glad you worked that out.”

There’s a beat of silence where Phil goes back to what he was doing- watching the tv- and Dan sways slightly on the spot, feet restless and shuffling.

“That’s not all.” Dan finally manages.

“It’s not?”

“No, Phil, God please, this is important.”

Phil lets out a long breath before moving over on the bed, signally for Dan to sit next to him. “I know it’s important. I just… why do you want to talk about it now?”

“Because… because everyone says I’m in love with you.” Dan exclaims sinking down on to the bed and pulling his knees to his chest.

“They do?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Well…” Dan corrects, “Not everyone. But some people.”

“People say you’re in love with me?”

“Not in so many words,” Dan finds there is a tiny hole in the knee of his jeans. He can’t remember when or how it got there but it’s as good a thing as any to focus on while he does this so he pokes a finger into it, widening the gap between the fibers. “People assume things.”

Phil nods at him to continue.

“Like your birthday, and the fact that we’ll share a bed. Your family assume we’re together and we don’t correct them. Your parents… they’ve welcomed me in with open arms like I’m one of their own. And Cat… she pretty much said the whole reason me and her didn’t work out is that I’m in love with you.” He leaves out the bit about Phil, it’s not a wise decision to bring it up considering. “I’m not even going to mention goddamned Tumblr.”

“No,” Phil says slowly, hesitating between words. “Probably best not to.”

Dan pulls on a particularly stubborn thread of his jeans, it digs into his finger for a moment but then gives way, the hole growing bigger.

“So, because people have said things… it somehow caused you to question whether you actually have fallen in love with me? Because… you might not have noticed?”

“It sounds really stupid when you put it like that.” Dan agrees.

“Well it is a bit odd, Dan.” Phil says placing a hand over Dan’s on his knee, stilling his fingers. “But if you’ve decided that you haven’t fallen in love with me then everything is okay.”

“No, I haven’t fallen in love with you,” Dan summarises, “My feelings for you haven’t changed since the day I met you.”

“Well… that’s… I mean, I’m glad you’re not confused anymore.”

“I’m not.” And Dan smiles.

There is silence again and Phil looks around himself awkwardly. “Not really sure what you’re looking for me to say here, Dan.”

Dan takes a breath, holds it for a second and lets it out in one long stream, the words following after it.

“I haven’t fallen in love with you Phil. I think… no, I know… that I’ve been in love with you the whole time.”

“Oh.” Phil’s mouth goes still and small. Lips pursed in thought.

“But I think… and I really don’t want to spring this on you but trust me, I’ve given it a lot of thought… I think you’re in love with me too.”

Phil laughs. He throws his head back and lets the big sound escape him. His tongue points shyly from the corner of his mouth for a second before his hands come up to cover his face.

“Oh my god.” He’s high pitched and incredulous.

“I know,” Dan insists, “It’s strange. But I honestly have thought about it… I know, I know, I overthink everything. But I do that so you don’t have to, can’t you just trust me?”

“I should just… trust what you’re telling me. Just… go along with whatever you’re saying.” Phil says, still giggling.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re given it some serious thought… and have decided, after much much intense deliberation… that you are in love with me.”

“Yes.”

“That you always have been.”

“Yes.”

“And, this is the most important bit,” Phil says, face deadpan, “I am, in fact, in love with you too.”

“Yes!” Dan says, voice raising, irritation becoming apparent.

“Well I wish you hadn’t bothered giving it so much thought,” Phil says casually.

“What do you mean?” Dan asks, straightening his legs on the bed, the hole of his jeans bigger now so that a flash of pale skin shows beneath it.

“I mean that well… of course I’m in love with you.”

Dan feels his lips part, mouth dropping to accommodate all the words that he would say, if he could find them.

“Dan I’ve been in love with you since you were a pixelated Skype call, since the moment you stepped off a train and into my arms… Dan, I’ve been so in love with you for as long as I can remember. I don’t need people making assumptions or sharing opinions to tell me that. Frankly, I’m kind of surprised it’s taken you this long to work it out.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought you knew!” Phil said, “I thought that it was just something we’d silently agreed not to acknowledge. Because you were… struggling with it or whatever. And I was never going to be the one to pressure you into something you didn’t really want. I thought I was… obvious. I didn’t give it much thought.”

“You didn’t give it much thought, Phil, are you kidding me? You just accepted you were in love with me and lived with it for 7 years?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re an idiot.”

And Dan moves forward in a rush, gripping the front of Phil’s t-shirt in one fist and bringing their lips crashing together. There’s a moment of adjustment, Phil’s hand curling around Dan’s jaw and neck and Dan pulling, pulling on Phil until they are pressed from shoulder to hip. They topple over with force of it, Dan landing solidly down on Phil, but neither seem to mind.

And it lasts. God it lasts, for blessedly long minutes and Phil rolls them until he is hovering over Dan, kissing the last 7 years of emotion into Dan’s mouth with his own. Dan answers back, sliding his legs to part so that Phil can rest between them, hands wandering all the while. Tracing lines over shoulders, waists, backs, hips.

Phil licks a stripe along Dan’s bottom lip and he parts his mouth in response. Making a tiny sound in this throat as Phil’s tongue comes into contact with his own. But he doesn't know what to focus on most, Phil’s tongue in his mouth or Phil’s hand at the hem of his shirt, sliding heated digits below the fabric to caress his rib cage.

Instead he moves his own hands, running along the strip of skin above Phil’s belt where his shirt has ridden up at the back. Taking a risk and gripping the soft cotton tightly, he moves insistently upward until Phil gets the message and pulls away for a moment to lift it over his head.

Their eyes meet and Dan gives a small nod. It is all that is needed because after 7 years of waiting, and thinking and hesitating, Dan doesn’t want to stop this now. Not now everything is finally making sense, and he doesn’t need anyone else's opinion on this particular activity thank you very much.

So he rips off his own shirt, sending it flying off to the side where it lands on an unknown, unseen patch of carpet. And Phil is kissing him again, but now there is the added sensation of their bare chests pressed against each other and the heat of their bodies combining. Dan moans.

“Feels good,” he says between kisses.

“Yeah.” Phil answers. “Do you want…”

“Yes.” Dan breathes quickly, “Anything.”

Phil grins lasciviously, “Anything?”

“Pervert.” Dan admonishes, laughing.

And Phil swallows the laugh with a kiss. Moving to work at Dan’s belt and button and zip until he has Dan’s jean’s undone and is wriggling a hand in to them.

“Fuck,” Dan says, squeezing his eyes shut as Phil’s hand wraps around him.

“Not yet,” Phil pants, again, “Maybe next time. Takes too long.”

“Oh god, only you would make a joke--ahh” Dan it cut off mid sentence by a moan as Phil twists his wrist and runs a thumb over the top of Dan’s cock.

Meaning to get his own back a little, he too has Phil’s jeans open in a matter of moments, sliding his own hand into the heat of his boxers and tracing the firm length of him.

“That’s… more than I was expecting.” Dan admits.

Phil just smiles.

It’s bumpy at first, their wrists knocking at awkward angles until they are both released from the confines of their underwear and they set an easy rhythm, stroking and thrusting into each other in sync.

Dan falls apart first, bucking and writhing underneath Phil, spilling over his hand as the air is filled with the sound of Dan’s hoarse voice calling his name. His own hand tenses around Phil who cries out and follows only moments after, moving his hips to slip through Dan’s fist, tight and perfect.

They fall against each other. Jeans at half mast, spent cocks trapped between their bodies, the collection of their orgasms sticky and wet collected on their respective torsos. They are silent in the haze for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

“That was…” Dan manages.

“It was.” Phil answers.

“Hmmm.”

It might seem, to Phil, that Dan is monosyllabic and pretty zoned out. He’s silent and listless, arms wrapped loosely around Phil's shoulders, the heavy beat of his heart in Phil’s ear. But behind it, Phil could swear he hears the gears of Dan’s brain working.

“What is it?” he asks, “What are you thinking?”

“It’s just…” Dan says, tracing light fingers over Phil’s shoulder blade, making patterns Phil can’t work out, “Where does this leave us? Are we together now?”

Phil chuckles, lifting his head to gaze into Dan’s eyes. He kisses him softly, a brush of lips and against lips.

“I love you,” he says, because it's true, it always has been.

“I love you too,” Dan replies, and the same is true for him.

“You think too much.”

“I do,” Dan admits, “I really do.”

#myfics #phandom meet up 28+#fanfiction #phanfic #phanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 update #fic update #one shot #phan #phandom

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