#I held my word lol the lighting was just too good not to draw

[vo1dbug]

I MET @sparkbirdmusic (hope you don’t mind the tag btw :V)

I met sparkbird last night at the show that was in my area and this was the first time I’ve ever met a song artist I love and it was so COOL. they were amazing and very nice :33 I highly recommend you listen to their Music. I’m so thankful they came to my area :DD

The lighting in on the stage was really cool and I kept thinking about drawing it so I did :3 + some pics I got(/the ref I used for the drawings) under the cut :33

[xomakara]

Perfume

SUMMARY | Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Jungwoo all get a bit too jealous of each other when you have sex with them individually. PAIRING | DoJaeJung/Reader GENRE | smut with no plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, anal sex, wall sex, foursome, dirty talk, praising, jealousy, voyeurism RATING | Mature LENGTH | 8,652 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | I hoped this turned out okay hahahaha. I feel like my writing has gone downhill lately lol Tags - @sleepyvic, @marvelahsobx, @ahgazen @wayvaxis

“Fuck, Y/N…” Jaehyun moaned out as you rocked against him. His hands were at your waist, watching the sway of your breasts, the sensual look on your face as you kept up the rhythm that drove him crazy.

You let out a moan as you continued to ride him, your hands on his hard chest feeling every defined muscle underneath. Your nails lightly dug into his skin, drawing blood that mixed with sweat from your bodies. You could hear his breaths getting shorter and shorter.

He was close, he was so close.

You didn’t even care about hearing the guys knocking on Jaehyun’s bedroom door, didn’t even hear Johnny shouting for the both of you to cover up before knocking the door down.

You were feeling good, so very fucking good.

“Jae, please…” You panted, feeling his hands grasp your breast harder. “Please… I want to feel you come in me… Please…”

Your cries were loud enough to be heard outside the room, but you couldn’t care if the others heard you. It felt like it was only you and Jaehyun, no one else mattered. Nothing mattered except the two of you being connected by sex.

Finally, he groaned, giving a final thrust before he came inside of you. You collapsed onto his body, kissing him softly as you rested your head against his shoulder. He held you tight, breathing heavily. He pulled the sheets over the both of you, in preparation of the guys storming their way into the room.

But they never did.

The next thing you knew, you fell asleep, tangled together on Jaehyun’s bed.

When you woke up, you found yourself still on Jaehyun’s bed, your head resting on his pillow. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer. The sunlight peeking through the window told you it was well past noon already.

Looking up, you saw him smiling at you sleepily, just staring at you for what seemed like forever. You reached out to cup his cheek, running your thumb across his cheekbone slowly. His smile widened when you traced the contours of his lips. He grabbed onto your hand, gently stroking it, holding your hand there as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. A small smile graced his lips again as he leaned in, kissing you gently.

And then, he pulled away.

That familiar glint appeared in his eyes once more.

It always returned whenever he looked at you. That soft look of yearning and love.

His fingers ran up and down your arm, stopping on your wrist. With a soft sigh, you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his, not caring who or what would walk in. After all, the light from the window was blinding anyway.

Jaehyun pulled back slightly, bringing your hand to his mouth, biting your palm softly. You giggled quietly as he ran his tongue along your skin. "Mmm...you smell sweet, Y/N... like strawberries."

A soft smile spread across your lips as you intertwined your fingers with his. He slowly pushed you to your back, taking the time to nibble on your earlobe, letting out little hums that made you squirm under him. He kissed your neck, lingering there before moving to trail soft kisses down your collar bone. "Princess, your perfume makes me want to eat you up. Your scent is intoxicating."

You let out a little gasp as his fingers dipped between your legs, teasing your clit. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning. "Jaehyun...again?"

"Yes, again," he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Again and again..."

You breathed in his scent, the heavenly smells of his cologne and the strawberry scented perfume you used created a mix that was impossible to describe. His breath was warm against your skin, his touch hot.

Every touch from him was intoxicating. Every word spoken from his mouth was heavenly.

There was no doubt that you'd smell like him after this. You'd be left with his scent lingering all over you. It would be impossible not to be addicted to him. You'd crave him constantly.

He moved lower, kissing and sucking at each of your collar bones. When he finally moved further down, you let out a moan of pleasure, wanting nothing more than for him to take you. Just fuck you until you screamed out his name. Until you begged for him to do it again and again. You wanted it, needed it, wanted everything that he had to offer.

As he slipped two fingers inside of you, you felt your walls tighten around them, aching for him to push deeper inside of you. His other hand cupped your cheek, pushing you to open your eyes and look at him. Your pupils dilated at the sight of him. He stared deep into your eyes, making you feel special. Making you feel like you were the most important person in the world to him.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly. You nodded. "Good. Because I'm going to make you feel so damn good..."

He parted your legs wider, making sure that your pussy was fully exposed for him. His fingers rubbed your sensitive flesh, circling your clit before brushing your inner walls.

You closed your eyes, whimpering. God, how badly you wanted him to enter you. To fill you up completely.

"I'm going to have my way with you..." He whispered against your lips, his tongue dipping into your mouth. His teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip before sucking on it, driving you wild. Withdrawing his fingers, he flipped you over so that you were on all fours, the sun's rays now hitting your back. "My naughty princess..."

Slowly, he trailed his fingers down your spine, grazing the sensitive skin as he went. His fingers dug into your hips, spreading your ass cheeks apart for him.

A small moan escaped your throat, pushing your ass higher into the air, inviting him in. You arched your back, exposing your clit to him. Your mind was a blank slate, his touches having an effect on you. There was no thought, no memories, just sensation. Pure, unadulterated sensation.

His hands were at your hips, guiding you, keeping you steady as he rubbed himself against your dripping wet entrance. And then, he slid himself inside of you, filling you completely. You let out a gasp, wanting more. More of his cock, more of his touch, more of his warmth surrounding you.

With every inch he slid into you, you wanted more. You felt his hands move down your sides, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you slow and deep. You let out another gasp as he picked up the pace, his hand firmly gripping your hip, his other hand squeezing your breast. You could feel the building pressure in your lower stomach, wanting release. "Jaehyun...oh god…"

He slowed down, withdrawing almost completely out of you. Before pushing back in.

You cried out, the sudden change in speed sending waves of pleasure through your body. He sped up, faster and faster, making you cry out louder and louder. He picked up the pace yet again, leaning down, letting his lips brush against the back of your neck. Having him take you from behind was heavenly. Everything from his slow movements, to the way he gripped your hips, was heaven sent.

"Baby..." He whispered, panting. "You feel amazing..."

He leaned in, grabbing both of your breasts as he continued to pump in and out of you, rubbing his own body against yours, the both of you connected. Your hair was now hanging loose, falling onto your shoulders. Your lips were open, your breath coming in short gasps. You tilted your head back, wanting him to kiss you.

His lips met yours as he increased the pace, slamming himself into you harder. Each thrust caused a loud groan to escape his lips.

Everything about this was pure ecstasy. Every single second was heaven. It was unlike anything you ever experienced. His touch was divine. The sound of his breathing, the taste of his lips, the weight of his body on top of you, it was indescribable. It was beyond words. 

You felt complete. You felt whole.

"Fuck, Jae." You moaned. "I love you so much..."

"Say it again..." He moaned, kissing your neck as he picked up the pace. "Just say it again..."

You tightened your muscles around him, tightening the bond between you. "I love you...I love you so much, Jaehyun..."

"Oh god, I love you too, Y/N..." Jaehyun's grip on your hips got tighter as he began to pound into you, his hips working up and down at a frantic pace. His other hand wrapped around your breast, pinching your nipple. You moaned loudly, bucking your hips against him, meeting his thrusts. "So damn much..."

It took mere seconds for him to lose control. His orgasm racked his entire body as he filled you up with his cum, filling you up with something that made your heart soar. His body trembled as he rested his forehead on your back, letting out a soft moan. He placed gentle kisses on your back, caressing your skin. He wrapped his arms around you, snuggling you against him, kissing your neck tenderly. "I love you, Y/N...so goddamn much."

You woke up hours later, still wrapped in Jaehyun's arms. His face was buried in your neck, inhaling deeply, enjoying your scent. Smelling it with his nose, his tongue lightly lapping at your skin. "Mmmm...baby...smells so good."

You let out a quiet laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. "Did I ever mention that I love you?"

His laughter rumbled in his chest. "You kept saying it so many times while we were fucking last night..."

"I know...but that doesn't mean I can't say it again." You giggled, shaking your head. "Especially since we're awake right now."

He raised his head, smirking at you. "Mhmm...I'll admit...it does feel good." He moved his lips to yours, planting soft kisses against your soft lips.

"Now, if only you'd stay here...in this bed..." You purred, trailing your fingers up his muscular thighs.

"Not gonna happen, Princess." He smiled, biting down gently on your lower lip. “I think the guys are waiting for us…”

“I know… But… Can we stay like this? Just for a little longer…?” You asked, almost whining, wishing he wouldn’t take his lips off yours.

“And hear Doyoung and Jungwoo complaining my ears off?” He teased. “Babe, I would kill to have sex with you all day and night long but I don't want to incur the wrath of Doyoung and Jungwoo."

"Oh, boo hoo." You frowned, before nipping at his lower lip. "But I can’t help it if I’m so horny for you.”

A low growl escaped Jaehyun's throat as he pinned you to the mattress. You laughed, moving your legs further apart to give him easier access to you.

After taking his fill of your body, he kissed his way back up your neck. When he reached your ear, he whispered, “If you keep doing that, I’ll just have to have you again right now.”

You moaned loudly, pushing your hips against his. He chuckled against your ear, trailing kisses down your jawline. When he finally broke away from you, he smiled lazily, gazing down at you lovingly. “Come on, Princess. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

You groaned. “Fine, but don’t blame me if I end up fucking the other two later.”

He grinned. “We'll see. Now get up.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you rose to your feet, grabbing his hand to pull him along with you. After freshening up, you opened the door to see Johnny with an exasperated look.

“Y/N, go take care of Doyoung or something.” Johnny muttered, running a hand through his hair. “The man has been depressed that you locked yourself up with Jaehyun and getting your brains fucked out all day.”

Jaehyun gave you a look. “See? I knew this was gonna happen.”

“Can’t help it that I was feeling horny and you were the only one home.” You kissed Jaehyun's cheek, making Johnny roll his eyes at you and let out a fake gag.

“Gross.” Johnny frowned. “I’d say get a room but you two just came out of it. Go deal with your other lover. I can’t deal with it.”

“Okay, okay.” You laughed, giving Jaehyun a farewell kiss before he departed with Johnny.

You found Doyoung sulking on the couch, flipping through the channels mindlessly. Looking at him, you couldn't help but laugh, seeing how uncomfortable he looked sitting there like that.

“Doyoung,” you plopped on the couch next to him, lacing your fingers with his. “Are you alright? You haven’t said a word since I got here.”

His eyes flashed towards you briefly before returning to the TV screen, shaking his head slightly.

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” You asked carefully, afraid that maybe your constant need for sex with Jaehyun wasn’t appealing to the others anymore.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I mean, yeah, it is annoying, but I get it, really.” He sighed. “We both know how you get when you’re alone with him. It’s bound to drive you nuts eventually. But…”

“But?” You prompted, curious as to where this was going.

“I want you to want me too, Y/N.” He blurted out suddenly. “Just as much as you want Jaehyun and Jungwoo.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Of course I want you. Why would you ever doubt that?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe because we haven’t had sex in a while and it seems like when you do have sex, it’s only with Jaehyun or Jungwoo. I feel a bit left out.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung.” You frowned, placing your head on his shoulder. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have gone all crazy with Jaehyun today. I guess we kind of forgot to consider everyone else.”

He squeezed your fingers, his thumb rubbing against your knuckle softly. He leaned his head towards yours, catching your lips with his.

For a moment, the world melted away and there was only you and Doyoung, cuddling on the couch, each other's arms keeping you warm as you shared passionate kisses. You closed your eyes as he drew your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking softly. You hummed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His hands ran up and down your sides, stopping at your hip. He placed gentle kisses along your jawline, dragging his teeth lightly against your skin. Your heart was pounding rapidly as he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping at your collar bone. You were practically squirming on the couch from the growing desire to have him. To have him in you.

“Can we…” You started breathlessly.

“Back to my new place?” Doyoung suggested, his voice all sensual and suggestive. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you there since I moved in.”

“Hell yes.” You answered quickly, pulling him off the couch. He stumbled slightly, laughing at your enthusiastic reaction. You watched as he gathered his things and you sent out a quick text to both Jaehyun and Jungwoo that you were heading to Doyoung’s apartment to have some alone time.

It took less than five minutes to reach Doyoung’s building, which said alot considering that you couldn’t keep your hands off him on the ride there. By the time you entered the elevator, you could barely hold yourself together. When the doors opened, Doyoung grabbed your hand and dragged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

He released your hand, looking straight at you. You tried to calm yourself, but you failed miserably, trembling uncontrollably as his eyes caressed every inch of your face.

“Why am I so nervous?” You mumbled. “We’ve done this plenty of times…”

Doyoung laughed, leaning down to capture your lips in another deep kiss. When he finally broke away from you, he looked at you intently. “Do you want me, Y/N?”

His question caught you completely off guard. How could he even ask such a question? Of course you wanted him. Every part of you craved his touch. But why did he have to ask? Wasn’t it obvious?

“Of course I want you, you gorgeous man.” You let out a breathless laugh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pushed your body against his, meeting his lips with yours. You kissed him passionately, reveling in the fact that he was here with you.

Finally alone.

“Let’s go.” Doyoung whispered hoarsely, breaking away from you, leading you to his bedroom. Once inside, he turned to face you, pinning you against the wall. His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He murmured, trailing his nose along your jawline, smelling the faint scent of your perfume. “You smell so good…”

His tongue darted out to lick your lower lip, capturing it between his lips. You whimpered, pressing your chest tighter against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his nose in your hair, inhaling deeply.

God, you were intoxicating.

“You smell like strawberries.” He mumbled against your hair. “God, I’ve missed this smell. This smell always makes me want to eat you up.”

Before you could respond, he pulled away, sliding down your body until he was kneeling between your legs. With one hand, he unbuttoned your blouse, slowly undoing each button, kissing his way up your stomach until he reached your exposed breasts. The touch of his lips on your nipples made you shudder in anticipation.

“You taste amazing. So sweet.” He whispered against your skin, letting his fingers graze across your cleavage, causing goosebumps to break out across your body.

“God, I’ve missed you so much, Y/N.” He sighed, nibbling at your neck, drawing tiny circles on your skin. “I dream of you naked and writhing under me, begging me to make love to you. I miss how soft your skin feels against mine. And I miss hearing you moan my name as I enter you.”

He placed feather light kisses along your collarbone, tracing his fingers over your collarbone, moving slowly downwards.

“Mmmh…Doyoung.” You moaned, arching your back as he lowered his head, flicking his tongue against your nipple. A wave of pleasure rolled through your body as he gently sucked on your breast, teasing it with his tongue.

With his free hand, he pushed your shirt off your shoulders, leaving you completely exposed. You reached out to grasp his shoulders, squeezing them, to balance your legs before they gave out.

He laughed quietly, cupping your cheeks in his hands, staring into your eyes.

“Relax, baby.” He crooned softly. “I’ll be taking my sweet time tonight.”

“Promise?” You breathed. “Because god, Doyoung, I want you so badly.”

“I promise.” He whispered huskily, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips before slipping off his shirt.

Sex with Doyoung was different from sex with Jaehyun or Jungwoo. With Jaehyun, it was all rough and heavy and wild. With Jungwoo, it was all tender and sweet. Sex with Doyoung was somewhere in between those two extremes. Hot, hard, rough, yet also soft and slow. He always made sure that he went slow enough for you to savor every single moment of the experience, almost as if he were doing it just for you.

His lips traced a trail down your torso, stopping right above your lace panties.

“I see Jaehyun’s scent is still lingering on your skin.” He commented, tracing circles on your inner thigh with his index finger. “I guess I have to work extra hard to erase it. So you can have my scent all over you. Only you.”

His words sent shivers down your spine, causing your pussy to clench tightly.

“Y/N…” He whispered against your skin, biting down softly. “Please tell me what you want. What you need. Tell me how bad you want it. I won’t stop unless you tell me to. I want to hear it from you.”

You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, desperate for him to touch you. Needing him to give you exactly what you needed. You cupped the back of his head, guiding his mouth to your pussy, feeling the sharp intake of air when his lips touched you.

“Tell me, baby.” He growled, his hands coming to rest on your ass, holding you firmly against him. “Show me how much you want it. Beg me. Say the words.”

“Doyoung…please…” You whimpered, pushing your hips towards his mouth. “I need you…I need you so fucking bad…”

You felt him push your panties to the side, exposing your dripping wet pussy to his hungry gaze. His tongue swept across your slit, causing a pleasurable ache to spread throughout your entire body.

“Ah!” You let out, your fingers gripping onto his hair as he licked and teased you mercilessly. “Oh god, Doyoung…don’t tease me…”

He chuckled softly, running his tongue along your slit, teasing you by not diving straight into your waiting pussy.

“Oh god…please…I need it…I need it so bad…” You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips against his mouth, making his tongue flick faster against your clit. “Doyoung…fuck…yes…yes…”

“Say my name again.” He groaned against your sensitive flesh, dipping his fingers inside you.

“Y-Yes, Doyoung…oh god…ah!” You cried out, the sensation of his fingers entering you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You began thrashing your hips against his mouth, grinding your clit against his tongue, trying to get more of his magic tongue inside you.

“Fuuuck…so wet…” He muttered, still teasing you, his fingers never going beyond the first knuckle. You bucked your hips against his hand harder, trying to find something deeper inside you.

Trying to find release.

But he wasn’t having any of that. Instead, he removed his hand from you, kissing his way up your body, nibbling on your earlobe.

“Don’t tease me, Doyoung. Please…just fuck me already.” You whined. “You know I need it. I’m dying here.”

“Yeah?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Want me to give it to you hard and fast? Or do you want me to take my time? Do you want me to tease you a little bit longer? Let you enjoy every single moment?”

“You can do whatever you want, you know that.” You replied. “Just please, Doyoung…give me what I need. I’m so fucking close.”

The devilish smirk that appeared on his face only fueled your desire further. Your heart started pounding wildly in your chest as you waited anxiously for him to give you what you desired most. You closed your eyes, imagining his thick cock plunging inside you. Imagine how tight your pussy would be around him, how it would burn when he sunk deeper and deeper inside you. You could practically feel him, taste him, smell him…you could imagine everything.

His hands at your waist, he lifted you up against the wall, pressing you harder against it, grinding himself against your soaked pussy. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

Your hands moved to grip his ass, squeezing it tightly.

He pulled away slightly, nibbling at your neck. “Tell me how much you want it, Y/N. Tell me how badly you need it.”

“God, Doyoung…I need it…I need you…please don’t make me wait any longer.” You begged. “Just give me what I need. Give me what I crave.”

“Anything for you, baby.” He breathed, lining his erection at your core. He slid into you slowly, filling you inch by inch. You moaned in pleasure, wrapping your arms around his neck, locking your legs around his waist, grinding against him, wanting him deeper inside you.

Even though you knew that Doyoung was as horny as you, the pace of his movements were slow, deliberate, making you focus on every single sensation. It was such an incredible feeling to know that he wanted to make sure you enjoyed every single moment. That he took his time with you because he wanted you to fully enjoy it.

His hips pushed forward once again, filling you even deeper with every stroke. Each movement caused waves of pleasure to roll through your body, taking you higher and higher with every inch that he sank into you.

Your lips met his, your breasts pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, your thighs tightening around his waist.

“I love you.” You murmured, gazing down at his beautiful face. “You know that, right?”

“Say it again.” He whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Tell me you love me again.”

“I love you, Doyoung.” You repeated, pressing another kiss against his lips.

“I love you too, baby.” He whispered back, nibbling on your lower lip. “I know you love Jaehyun and Jungwoo as well, but thank you for loving me too.”

Your smile grew wider as you gazed at his gorgeous face, your fingers playing with his soft black hair. The softness of his voice made you go weak in the knees. His dark brown eyes sparkled brightly with emotion. As if he was really thankful for you being with him.

That thought made your heart swell with happiness.

As if reading your mind, he tightened his hold on you, giving you a gentle squeeze before thrusting his hips forwards again.

Every single move he made, every single thrust he made, each time he ground against you and kissed you, he was showing you how grateful he was for you. How lucky he was to have you.

How much he loves you.

“Did you have fun with Doyoung-hyung last night?” Jungwoo asked, staring at you intently as you sat next to him on the couch, drinking your morning coffee. You had just come back to your apartment where you found Jungwoo pouting on your couch.

You raised an eyebrow, raising your cup to your lips, preparing to take a sip. “Why? Are you jealous?”

Jungwoo smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder. “No.”

“You wish.” You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove. “Don’t even deny it.”

“He told me he loves you.” He said casually. “And that you love him.”

“Uh huh. And?”

“Don’t you love me too, babe?” He questioned , giving you a small pout. “Can’t I have someone to wake up with and drink coffee with? Can’t I have someone who wants to cuddle with me and watch TV all day long? Don’t I deserve some affection and love as well? Why are you ignoring me?”

“Jungwoo, we just had sex a few days ago.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips. "How am I ignoring you?"

“Uh huh. But you didn’t tell me that you loved me.” He frowned. “I want to know. Are you sleeping with someone else or not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his puppy dog eyes. You placed your cup on the table, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. “You know who I’m sleeping with. Stop being jealous, my big puppy.”

“Babe, seriously. I just want to know if you love me. I’m needy like that.” He pouted, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I need attention and love.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I can’t believe out of you, Doyoung and Jaehyun, that you’re the biggest baby.”

“I’ll fight them both to have you.” He grumbled. “I’ll pretend to have a broken leg just so you’ll stay with me.”

“Stop being ridiculous.” You laughed, moving away from him. “If you really want to know, yes, I love you. I love all of you guys.”

“Really?” Jungwoo exclaimed. “Really? You love us all? Not just Doyoung?”

“Yes.” You nodded, smiling widely at him. “You, Jaehyun and Doyoung mean the world to me.”

Jungwoo smiled happily, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Now stop being so clingy and needy.” You chuckled, giving him a playful push. “Go to the practice rooms with the others. I’ll be fine.”

“But…but…” He mumbled, looking up at you.

“Come on, babe. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can find me in bed.” You grinned, grabbing his wrist, tugging him towards the door. “Or am I sleeping alone tonight?”

“Haha. No. I wouldn’t let that happen.” He replied, chuckling.

You grinned at him, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. “Good. Now get out there and have fun.”

“Y/N, seriously. I love you.” He declared, giving you one last lingering kiss before exiting the room.

You sighed contently, sitting down on the couch, sipping your coffee while watching him leave the room. Then you took a look around your apartment. Everything seemed so empty without the guys around. Just silence.

You pulled out your phone and saw the text from Doyoung wondering if you had gotten home safely and that he was going to head to the practice rooms. Another text message popped up, this time from Jaehyun, asking you how the date went and saying that he missed you. A final text message was from Jungwoo, telling you that he’d call you later during his break.

You smiled as you finished reading their messages.

You finished the last of your coffee, setting the cup aside before standing up and stretching.

It felt good to be home after such a long day. And it also felt nice knowing that all three of them were thinking about you.

You wandered into your bedroom to grab your towel so that you could go and take a shower. Once you were done, you dressed in your sweats, slipped your feet into your slippers, and made your way to the kitchen. After placing a bagel on the counter, you headed towards the living room to turn on the television, hoping that something good would be on today.

Suddenly, the sound of your front door opening startled you, causing you to jump and drop the remote onto the floor.

You spun around quickly, seeing Jungwoo walk through the door. “You're supposed to be at practice." You stated.

"I was gonna go," Jungwoo made his way to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. "But then I realized that it's not really important to be there. I would rather be here with you."

"Uh huh." You rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips. "And what would Doyoung and Jaehyun say if you skipped practice?"

Jungwoo hummed thoughtfully. "I guess they'd ask why I'm skipping practice. Then I'd tell them that I want to spend more time with you."

You looked up at him curiously, feeling warm all over. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours. "Is my Jungwoo still jealous?"

"Always." He winked.

"Ah." You grinned, lips close to his. "So instead of practice..."

Jungwoo responded by closing the distance between the two of you, giving you a long, deep kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

You moaned softly as his tongue slid along your lips, pressing kisses to your mouth, leaving behind tingles everywhere. Your hands ran through his hair, holding onto his thick strands.

He smelled good. Ridiculously good. Like fresh air and sunshine. Or maybe it was just his natural scent mixed with the fresh fragrance of soap and shampoo that he used. Whatever it was, it drove you wild.

You broke the kiss, panting lightly, letting out a moan when you felt his hands running along your back, down your spine. "Jungwoo, you smell so good."

"Yeah?" He hummed in response, kissing you passionately once again. "Baby, you always smell good. It makes me wanna eat you up."

"What is up with you and others always wanting to eat me up?" You laughed softly, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"I love food." He giggled. "Just saying. Plus you taste good."

"Mmmm...I better taste good." You laughed, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Trust me, babe. You do." He groaned, tugging at your sweater, trying to pull it off of your body. "God, I can't wait to feel your naked skin pressed against mine."

You leaned in to bite his bottom lip, hearing him moan. That sent shivers throughout your body, making you feel weak in the knees.

His fingers reached under your sweater, touching bare skin, causing you to let out a gasp. His other hand rubbed up and down your back, slowly working its way down your spine. All you wanted to do was crawl onto his lap, lose yourself in his touch and let him explore every inch of your body.

Your whole body trembled as you felt his fingertips run along your bare stomach. Then, he slowly moved his hand up, lifting your sweater higher, exposing more of your skin. Your breathing hitched, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the emotions that surged through your body.

His lips returned to yours, nibbling on your bottom lip gently, pushing your sweater up a bit further. He pulled away from you, breathing heavily, almost like he was out of breath.

"Oh shit." He muttered. "I'm so turned on right now."

"Yeah?" You breathed out, a smile on your lips. "Me too."

"You want to fuck?" He whispered, grabbing your wrist, tugging you towards the sofa.

You laughed loudly. "Was there a reason to ask? You know I'd never turn you down."

"Damn straight." He grinned, sitting on the sofa and pulling you towards him. You stood between his spread legs, his hands still delving under your sweater, brushing against bare skin.

You arched your back, moaning softly when his fingers ran across your skin. You reached for the hem of your sweater and pulled it up over your head, throwing it somewhere in your living room. You unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts, nipples erect and hard. You watched Jungwoo's eyes grow wider with each second, biting down on your lower lip as you watched him lick his lips. He grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you forward, his hands sliding your sweats and panties down your thighs, leaving you completely naked.

"Jesus." He murmured, taking a moment to admire your naked body. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. His eyes were glued to your breasts, watching them rise and fall with each rapid breath you took.

Then, he leaned in to place soft kisses on your breast, circling your nipple with his tongue. You whimpered quietly, biting down on your lip. His teeth grazed against your nipple, causing goosebumps to form all over your body.

"Jungwoo..." You groaned, arching your back even further. "Jungwoo, please..."

His tongue moved up to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. His teeth clamped down gently, drawing a small cry from you. His tongue flicked back and forth across your nipple, causing you to buck your hips forward, rubbing against his erection.

Jungwoo sat up, still licking and sucking on your breasts. He placed his palms on your ass, lifting you up, until you were straddling him. He wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you tightly against him, grinding against your wetness.

You felt him grow hard beneath you and reached out to unbutton his pants, needing to feel him inside of you. You helped him shimmy out of his pants, kicking them aside.

"You know I can’t be the only one naked, right?” You straddled him and slipped your hands up his shirt. You felt him tighten his grip on your ass, pulling you closer to him. “Take your shirt off, babe.”

Jungwoo reached for the hem of his shirt, raising it above his head. His hair fell freely, giving him an even sexier appearance. His lips met yours in another searing kiss, his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like honey and berries. You couldn't get enough of him.

"Ahhh..." You moaned, breaking away from the kiss, shaking your head. "God, Jungwoo."

He delved his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. "God, you smell so good. Like strawberries. God damn, I want to bury my face in your neck and inhale you."

"God, you always do this to me." You chuckled, planting small kisses along his jawline, your hand grasping his cock firmly.

"Mmm, baby, are you trying to kill me?" He groaned, holding his head up. "I swear I'll die if you keep doing that."

"So you'll die once you're in me?" You teased him, running your fingers down the length of his shaft, eliciting a groan from him.

"Yes." He nodded, kissing you tenderly on the lips. "Every single fucking time."

"I'll have to remember that." You laughed, sitting back on his lap, allowing him to enter you slowly. He filled you completely, your bodies pressed together, skin touching skin. His hands left your ass, gripping your waist, holding you against him. You moved with him, letting him control the pace. Every thrust sent pleasure coursing through your body, causing you to moan in pleasure.

"Baby..." He groaned, rocking against you, pushing deeper inside of you. "Ah, fuck!"

"Do you like it?" You asked, your breasts pushed up against his face. "Tell me."

He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, giving it gentle bites with his teeth. You gasped, bucking your hips against him, causing his hands to tighten their grip on your waist.

You rocked against him harder, watching his facial expressions change as you pleasured him. The look of pure bliss on his face made you want to ride him faster, but he slowed his movements, urging you to continue.

He kissed your shoulder, trailing kisses down your neck, leaving you gasping in pleasure. His tongue dipped below your earlobe, causing chills to ripple through your body. Your hands grasped his hair, holding him tighter against you, reveling in the feelings flowing through your body.

When he moved his lips to your collarbone, gently nibbling on your flesh, you moaned loudly, riding him harder, desperate to come.

"Fuck, Jungwoo, fuck..." You cried out, clutching his head to you, digging your nails into his scalp.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Like a fucking angel, you know that?"

"Mmhm." You agreed, gasping as his teeth sank into your skin.

He held you close to him, keeping the same rhythm, driving you crazy. You moaned loudly, his name falling from your lips. His fingers dug into your hips, thrusting inside of you, sending pleasure streaking through your body.

"Come on, baby." He urged you. "Let go. Come with me."

He picked up speed, stroking inside of you faster, bringing you closer to the edge. You moaned his name, tilting your head back, your hair cascading down your shoulders. With one final push, Jungwoo buried himself inside of you, thrusting as deep as he could, you screaming his name as you came.

You cried out Jungwoo's name again and again, shuddering uncontrollably as waves of pleasure swept through your body. You opened your eyes to see Jungwoo staring down at you, smiling softly. You smiled back, caressing his cheek.

"I love you, Jungwoo." You said, burying your face in his chest. "Thank you."

He leaned in to give you a soft kiss. "I love you, baby."

A few days later

You peeked your head into the practice room, the nearest back-up dancer jumping slightly in surprise before giving you a small greeting. You sneakily made your way towards the couch where NCT's manager was sitting, carefully placing your belongings down next to you.

"Oppa," you leaned towards him. "How long have they been practicing?"

"About an hour or so." He looked over at the three members still practicing. "You haven't heard the song yet, right? Why don't you stay and watch?"

"You sure?" You asked. "I don't want to be a bother."

He laughed. "I'm sure the guys will be happy when they see you."

You smiled softly, settling back on the couch. When Haechan told you that Doyoung, Jaehyun and Jungwoo were forming a unit, you knew, oh you definitely knew, that no matter what the song was, they would exude their sensual charms.

You shifted in your seat, watching as Doyoung's sweet voice rang through the room, followed by Jaehyun's masculine tone and then finally Jungwoo's silky voice. You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when you heard the lyrics that expressed leaving perfume behind on a lover so that they could not forget them. And who wouldn't love that? It sounded incredibly sexy and intimate, exactly how you pictured the lyrics.

You couldn't help but take a deep breath while you watched your boys dance. They certainly had the moves, so many different ones to suit each member. After a few minutes, you found yourself humming along with them. Your eyelids started to feel heavy, making you wish you had a pillow to rest your head on.

"Alright, guys." The manager announced, snapping you out of your trance. "That's enough for today. If I keep you guys any longer, someone will get angry."

You rolled your eyes playfully, standing up from the couch as you watched him walk out of the room with the dancers. "Oppa!"

Jaehyun enveloped you in a hug when he heard your voice. "Where've you been hiding yourself?"

You giggled. "Sitting here with your manager while you practiced."

"What did you think?" Doyoung asked, threading his fingers through yours. "Are we okay?"

You bit your lip. "I loved it." You squeezed his hand. "I can't wait to hear it live."

Jungwoo laughed. "You really enjoyed watching us practice?"

"I enjoyed all the aspects." You said, looking at all three of them. "Your voices, your dancing, everything. But what I really enjoyed..."

"Hmm?" They asked, eyeing you curiously.

"The lyrics." You smiled teasingly at them. "Makes me think that you all haven't really left your scents behind, if you catch my drift."

"Oh?" Jaehyun asked, his lips awfully close to yours. "Is that so?"

You bit your bottom lip. "I guess that means you have more work to do..."

"On you?" Doyoung asked, running his finger down your arm.

"I mean...your practice..." You clarified, laughing nervously.

Jaehyun grinned wickedly, slowly walking towards you. He brushed his thumb against your lower lip, catching it between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly. "What are you saying, baby?"

You couldn't help but suck on his thumb, tasting its sweetness on your tongue. "If you leave your scent behind for me..."

"How?" He breathed, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip. "Shall I give you a sample?"

"Please..." You breathed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

Jungwoo let out a laugh, tugging on your hand. "Why don't we all go home and figure out how to leave our scents behind for her."

You let out a quiet gasp as he led you out of the practice room, dragging Jaehyun and Doyoung with him. It took but minutes to reconvene to your apartment since your apartment was only a few minutes walk from the company.

Once you were all inside the living room, sitting on the couches, Doyoung grabbed your hips, pulling you onto his lap. "So how are we leaving our scents behind for you, Y/N?"

You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder. "Surprise me. Let's see what happens tonight."

Jaehyun stared at the spot where you'd been sitting just moments ago, licking his lips hungrily. "Don't worry, baby."

You grinned, getting up from his lap and plopping down on Jaehyun's lap. He threw his arms around you, cradling you against his chest. "We'll make sure to give you something worth remembering."

Jaehyun lifted you in his arms and made his way to your bedroom, the other two following closely behind.

"My bed, your bed, it doesn't matter which one." You winked. "As long as we're together, it's all the same. Now leave your scents on me so that I don't ever forget you."

Jaehyun threw you on the bed before crawling on top of you. "We'll leave them on your wrist, your collarbone, wherever you like."

You pulled him down for a kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, tasting every inch of your mouth, his hand coming up to run through your hair. He broke away, tracing the outline of your face with his fingers.

"I'll leave them everywhere." He promised. "Everywhere you want."

Jungwoo sat down next to you, cupping your face gently. "Whatever you need, whatever you desire, we'll provide."

"Anything you want." Doyoung repeated. "It's all about you, after all."

Jaehyun placed his lips against yours once again, whispering against your mouth. "I hope you're ready for us, Y/N. We won't disappoint you."

The three boys nodded before getting up from the bed. All you could do was watch them silently, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as anticipation surged through your veins.

"Remember," Doyoung called over his shoulder, pulling his shirt off. "No inhibitions, nothing holds us back. We'll leave our scents all over you, our fingerprints all over you. Every little piece of us will be imprinted on your skin, making sure that no one else has you but us."

Jaehyun ran his hands over his abs, his muscles flexing underneath his touch. "And the scent of our sweat will linger in your sheets, permeating the fabric, leaving behind the most intimate smell. Nothing will make you forget us like that."

"Then why are we wasting time?" Jungwoo asked, unbuckling his belt. "We should start marking our territory now, before you have a chance to forget us."

With that, they quickly stripped off their clothes, completely naked, standing there with only their confidence for protection. Jungwoo's long fingers removed your clothes, throwing them aside as he made his way down your body, kissing you along the way. He crawled back up, kissing you hard.

Doyoung trailed hot kisses down your neck, biting your neck softly, sucking it gently before moving up to lick the sensitive skin under your ear.

Jaehyun lowered himself between your legs, trailing kisses from your thighs to your pussy, flicking your clit with his tongue, nibbling on it lightly.

You let out a low moan, moaning his name as he licked your folds. He lapped up your juices before diving into your depths, swirling his tongue around your clit, taking it between his teeth, drawing out a sharp cry from you.

Jungwoo worked his magic on your nipples, gently pinching them between his fingers, sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

Doyoung continued to kiss down your neck, reaching your collarbone, gently biting your flesh.

You felt the heat rise within you, ready to explode, and you tightened your legs around Jaehyun's head, bucking against his tongue, wanting more.

"Jaehyun...oh god." You moaned, tugging at his hair.

"Not yet, baby." He moaned. "Stay still. Let me show you what I'm going to do to you."

You bit your bottom lip, trying to control yourself. "Please. Jaehyun, please..."

"Just relax, baby." He whispered. "Let us drive you crazy. Just close your eyes and let go."

With that, Jaehyun took his fingers and slid them inside of you, stretching you wide, loosening you up for him. He rubbed his fingers over your clit, stroking it gently, causing you to let out another moan.

Jaehyun breathed against your inner thigh. "We're gonna make this last as long as possible."

He didn't waste any time, working his tongue in and out of you, using his fingers on your clit, stimulating you until you were practically begging for release.

"Tell me how much you want it, baby." He whispered. "Say the words."

You whimpered. "Fuck me. Please fuck me."

"Do you want us, Y/N?" Jungwoo asked. "Are you ready for us to leave our scents on you?"

"Do you want us to fill all your holes?" Doyoung added. "Fill you up with all our cum?"

"Fuck yes." You cried, shaking your head frantically. "Fuck yes."

Jaehyun laid on the bed as you crawled on top of him, lowering yourself down on him. His thick cock slipped inside of you, filling you up completely. You sighed happily, closing your eyes as you began to ride him, feeling him growing even harder inside of you.

"Oh fuck yeah." You moaned. "Jaehyun, fuckkkk."

He wrapped his arms around you, locking you to him as you moved on top of him, your breasts bouncing against his chest.

"Look at you riding me." He moaned, gripping your ass tightly. "Feels good, doesn't it? Feels real good, babe."

You shook your head, raising yourself up and sliding back down on him. "Too fucking good."

Doyoung let out a groan as he watched you bounce on Jaehyun. He was stroking his own cock and when you gestured to him, he happily obliged, guiding his dick to your ass, gently pushing it inside of you. You let out a loud moan as Doyoung slowly pushed himself into you, moving in and out of you in perfect rhythm with Jaehyun.

"Baby, don't forget me." Jungwoo muttered, his dick against your cheek. "I need to feel your mouth on me."

You leaned forward, placing your hands on his thighs, giving him access to your mouth, allowing him to push his dick into your mouth, letting you slide your lips up and down his shaft, feeling him grow even harder as you gave him pleasure.

"You're so turned on, aren't you babe?" Jungwoo asked, your head bobbing up and down on his dick. "You're sucking me so good and I'm sure both Doyoung and Jaehyun is giving your ass and pussy a good pounding. So fucking hot."

You hummed around his dick, trying to keep pace with the other two as they fucked you senseless. You loved being used like this by these three men. They knew exactly what they were doing and each man had their own special way of making you come. Each time was better than the last.

"I love how loud you get when you come, baby." Doyoung whispered against your ear, rubbing your clit with his thumb. "That sound drives me insane."

Jaehyun grunted, his hands cupping your breasts roughly, squeezing your nipples between his fingers. "Come for us, Y/N. Come all over us. Let us know that we're making you feel good."

"Let go, baby." Jungwoo urged, gripping your head against his cock.

"Shit, let's all just come together." Doyoung gasped, pressing against you hard. "Fuck."

Your moans became louder, echoing in the small apartment, mixed with the sounds of sex and moans. The four of you moved in unison, groaning as you came together. Your eyes rolled back into your head as a loud cry escaped your throat, signaling your orgasm.

Jungwoo's dick popped out of your mouth, his semen coating your body. Both Jaehyun and Doyoung emptied themselves into your pussy and ass, simultaneously filling you to the brim.

Doyoung collapsed tirelessly on the bed next to Jaehyun, completely spent.

"That was amazing." You panted, lying on top of Jaehyun, his arms tightening his hold on you. "You guys really did a number on my body. Fuck, I can't believe how full I am right now."

"Fuck, I'm completely exhausted." Doyoung let out as the others laughed.

"You look exhausted." Jaehyun chuckled, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face. "Why don't we all shower and then head to bed?"

"Yeah, a shower would probably help." Jungwoo agreed. "And maybe, just maybe, we can have round 2 in the shower."

You laughed loudly, resting your head against Jaehyun's chest. "I think I'd like that."

[writingfics-passingtime]

Look at you superpowering your way through that fic. I haven’t had time to read in sooo long but I’m definitely going to put some aside to read OTR parts 2 & 3 as I adored part 1. Anyway, here’s my prompt for the song request! The song is Hey Girl by Stephen Sanchez (my little sister’s wedding song apparently, though she’s also said that about a hundred other songs lol), & the character is Andrew’s Spiderman. Have fun!

Head in the Clouds

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Hey Girl - Stephen Sanchez

Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader

Word Count: ~2000

CW: mentions of crime and death

Note: Cas, do forgive me for the fact that this took nearly two years. I hope it was at least a little bit worth the wait. Thank you for sharing this song with me, it is so sweet and tender and this idea flowed out of me. Hope you like it!

The subway car hummed with the rhythm of its own chaotic life. Peter sat slouched against the seat, his head low, the rim of his hood shadowing his face.

He didn’t want to see the city today.

Didn’t want to see the ghosts that lingered in the faces of strangers, or worse, the ones that followed him like a haunting memory. The night before replayed in loops that wouldn’t stop. The mugging. The panic. The older woman he couldn’t save.

He curled his fingers into fists inside his jacket pockets, the faint tremor in them making him nauseous. Every sound - the faint screech of the rails, the muffled conversations, the hiss of air brakes - rubbed raw against his frayed nerves.

Then you stepped onto the train.

Peter didn’t look up at first. He was too lost in the cavern of his thoughts. But something shifted in the air - subtle, like the faintest hint of a spring breeze brushing through a winter morning. A quiet presence, steady, unassuming. You sat across from him, balancing a sketchbook on your lap, pencil already in hand. He caught a glimpse of your headphones, wires trailing into the folds of your coat. Whatever you were listening to must’ve been good, because your lips tilted faintly upward, your expression soft and serene.

For a while, he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare look too long, didn’t dare make himself known. But his gaze kept drifting toward you, a fragile kind of curiosity building in his chest. You weren’t just sitting there, zoning out like everyone else. You were drawing.

Peter watched the way your pencil glided across the page, your hand light but sure, creating shapes and shadows that looked effortless. You tilted your head, studying someone across the car - a man in a rumpled suit who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Peter saw the way you captured him on the page, not cruelly, not mockingly, but with a surprising kind of reverence. You made him look… important. Worthwhile. Seen.

His chest tightened. How long had it been since he’d felt like that?

The train jostled, and you didn’t even flinch. Your hand adjusted, your lines precise. You worked quietly, invisibly to everyone else, but not to him. Peter watched the way your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way your lips twitched when you got a line just right. There was something almost magical about it - the way you turned the mundane into something remarkable.

The man you sketched got off at the next stop, and Peter thought maybe that would be it. Maybe you’d close the book and tuck it away. But you didn’t. Your gaze wandered briefly, settling somewhere near him, though not directly on him. He held his breath as you started to draw again.

Was it him?

Peter’s heart thudded. He resisted the urge to pull his hood tighter, to shrink into himself. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, letting the rattle of the subway mask the sound of his shallow breathing. He dared a glance down at your page. The lines were faint but unmistakable - long limbs, slouched shoulders, a figure weighed down by invisible burdens. You captured him, but not the way he saw himself. You didn’t draw the guilt, the failures, the shame. You didn’t draw Spider-Man. You drew Peter Parker - someone who was tired, yes, but still human. Still real.

Something inside him cracked.

Weeks and months passed, and Peter found himself noticing you more and more. He couldn’t explain it. The way you seemed to bring light to such an ordinary space felt like a balm to his fractured world.

if he was really lucky, he’d end up in the same train car as you once a week.

Still, every morning, he looked for you, his chest tightening each time he spotted your familiar frame, your sketchbook in hand. Sometimes, he’d catch glimpses of your work - portraits of subway performers, a mother holding her baby, a tired worker slumped against a pole. Every face told a story. Every face mattered.

One morning, Peter’s resolve crumbled entirely. He hadn’t slept. The weight of his failures clung to him like a second skin. He barely managed to drag himself onto the train, collapsing into a seat near the door. He pulled his hood low, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging in defeat. The last thing he wanted was to be seen.

But then you sat down next to him.

Peter froze. He didn’t dare turn his head, didn’t dare look at you directly. But he could feel you there, close enough that the faint smell of your shampoo reached him - a hint of something floral and clean. Your sketchbook was open again, your pencil moving with quiet purpose.

This time, he couldn’t resist. He risked a glance from the corner of his eye. You weren’t looking at him - your gaze was focused on a mother and her young son sitting a few seats away. The boy was clutching a balloon, his wide eyes full of wonder as he chattered about something Peter couldn’t hear. You smiled faintly as you worked, capturing the scene with the same delicate care as always.

Peter’s chest ached. How did you do it? How did you see the world this way, even when it was so often cruel and unforgiving? How did you find beauty in the cracks and crevices, in the quiet, unremarkable moments no one else noticed?

The train lurched, and your pencil slipped. You frowned, erasing the errant line with quick efficiency before continuing. Peter almost smiled at your determination. For the first time in days, the heaviness in his chest lifted, if only slightly.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned. Your eyes met his, and Peter’s breath caught.

You didn’t say anything - your headphones still nestled in your ears - but your expression softened, your head tilting slightly in silent acknowledgment. Peter felt a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled up inside him. Instead, he gave you the faintest of nods.

You smiled, small but genuine, and turned back to your sketchbook. Peter let out a breath he’d been carefully holding. The train rattled on, the city blurring past the windows, but for once, he didn’t feel lost in the noise.

He watched you sketch, the quiet rhythm of your pencil grounding him, reminding him that there was still beauty in the world. Still hope.

Still something worth fighting for.

The next time Peter saw you, something was wrong.

The train doors slid open, their mechanical groan pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced up instinctively, eyes scanning the platform. And then there you were - only you weren’t quite you.

Your usual energy, that quiet, creative spark that seemed to light up the gray monotony of the subway, was missing. You stepped onto the train slowly, your shoulders slightly hunched. No sketchbook was tucked under your arm. No pencil rested behind your ear. Your hands clutched the straps of your bag, gripping them tightly as though they might anchor you to something solid.

Peter sat a few seats away, unnoticed. At first, he wasn’t sure it was really you. The vibrance he had grown accustomed to - seeing you sketch, lips sometimes moving faintly to the rhythm of your music - was gone. You sat down heavily, not directly across from him this time, but on the opposite side, a few spaces to his left, staring down at your lap.

You fiddled absently with your bag’s straps, the leather creaking under your restless fingers. The movement was almost hypnotic. You were present but not here, your gaze vacant and distant. Your headphones were in, the faintest buzz of music leaking out, but whatever song you were listening to clearly wasn’t helping.

Peter’s chest tightened. Seeing you like this felt like seeing a bird with its wings clipped, something small and free now tethered to the ground. He’d never spoken to you, but in the months he’d spent in your presence, you’d become a quiet constant, a beacon of life in his otherwise heavy days. You made the world look softer. Brighter. Now, you looked like the light inside you had been dimmed.

He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t just sit there.

Peter’s fingers twitched against his thighs. What could he do? He wasn’t sure what had happened to you - whether it was something big, or just the weight of a bad day. But the thought of you sitting there, carrying whatever invisible burden had settled on your shoulders, made him ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

His eyes dropped to his backpack, slumped against his feet. An idea - reckless, impulsive - began to form. Slowly, as inconspicuously as he could manage, he unzipped the bag and rifled through it.

Books. Notes. Crumpled papers. Pens. He didn’t have much to work with, but he didn’t need much.

He found a scrap of paper tucked between the pages of his physics textbook - half an old assignment, blank on the back - and a cheap blue pen that was on the verge of running dry. He hesitated, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You hadn’t moved. Your hands still toyed with the straps of your bag.

Peter straightened in his seat and pressed the paper against his knee, clicking the pen. His heart thudded as he bent over the makeshift canvas.

He wasn’t an artist. Not like you. His lines were awkward, shaky. The pen smudged slightly, leaving faint streaks on the page. But he kept going. He drew the way your hair framed your face, the slight downward tilt of your head, the way your hands gripped your bag. He tried to capture the quiet sadness in your posture without letting it define you, the same way you’d drawn others with tenderness and care.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t even close to good. But it was something.

The train slowed, brakes screeching as it approached his stop. Peter hurried to finish, his fingers trembling slightly as he folded the paper in half. He shoved the pen back into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, standing as the train lurched to a halt.

His eyes flicked to you one last time. You still hadn’t looked up.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

As he stepped toward the doors, he passed your seat, hesitating for only a fraction of a second. Then he dropped the folded paper into your lap, the motion quick and deliberate, a secret passed between strangers.

You startled, your fingers freezing mid-fidget. Your gaze lifted briefly, confusion flickering across your face as you looked at him. But Peter didn’t stop. He kept walking, his heart pounding in his ears.

The doors slid open, and he stepped out onto the platform.

He didn’t look back.

Inside the train, you blinked, staring down at the folded paper in your lap. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You glanced toward the doors, catching a glimpse of the guy in the hood as he disappeared into the crowd.

Curiosity tugged at you. Slowly, you unfolded the paper.

The drawing stared back at you - a clumsy but earnest portrait of yourself, captured in pen on a crumpled scrap of paper. The lines were uneven, the proportions a little off, but there was something in the image that stopped you cold.

The figure in the drawing looked… real. Recognizable. But there was more to it than that. He hadn’t just drawn you - he’d seen you. Even in the shaky lines and imperfect strokes, there was care. There was tenderness.

There was hope.

You pressed your lips together, your vision blurring slightly as your grip tightened on the page.

For the first time that day, something inside you felt lighter.

On the platform, Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly toward the stairs. He didn’t know if you’d unfold the paper. He didn’t know if it would mean anything to you.

But he hoped it did.

And for the first time in a long while, Peter felt like maybe, just maybe, he’d done something right.

[acidinduceddaydreams]

Daddy’s reassurance

Pairing: daddy!chris x little!fem!reader

Warnings: angst for 12 seconds then it’s all fluffy. Littlespace. Daddy used in a non sexual manner.

Synopsis: reader has doubts that her daddy really doesn’t mind taking care of her.

A/n: littlespace isn’t sexual. NSFW posts will be uploaded soon however this isn’t that lol. Feedback is more than appreciated!!!

"Daddy, can I ask you something?" y/n whispered, her eyes cast downward as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger.

"Of course, you can ask me anything, little one," Chan responded warmly, his hand gently resting on her back as they sat on the couch.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the light dancing through the curtains and casting a warm hue over the plush blankets and stuffed animals that littered the floor. A sense of comfort and security filled the air, yet little y/n's heart raced with anxiety. She took a deep breath before speaking again. "What if... what if you don't like me anymore?"

Chan's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he leaned closer to her. "Why would you ever think that?" he asked gently.

"I don't know," she murmured, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. "I just get scared sometimes that I'll do something wrong, or that I won't be good enough."

Chan's voice grew firm yet soothing. "You are always enough, little one. Remember, my love for you is unconditional. It's not something that can be lost or earned. It's just there, like the stars in the sky." He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Now, tell me, what's really bothering you?"

Little y/n's eyes welled up with tears as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm not really a little, like I'm just pretending. And I'm scared that you'll find out and think I'm weird."

He wiped away a tear that had begun to trickle down her cheek. "You're not pretending. You are who you are, and that's perfect. Being a little is part of you, and I love all of you."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or untruth. Finding none, she leaned into his embrace, her fears momentarily assuaged by his comforting words.

As they sat together, the room grew quiet, save for the distant sound of children playing outside. The scent of dinner cooking in the kitchen wafted in, a mix of spices and baked bread that reminded her of warm evenings spent snuggled up with him. The walls of their little haven were adorned with colorful drawings and posters, a stark contrast to the ordered chaos that was her mind.

Chan pulled her closer, his strong arms providing a sanctuary from the tumultuous thoughts. "You don't have to be perfect, little y/n. You just have to be you, and I'll always be here to take care of you." His voice was a balm to her soul, a promise that seemed to echo through the very fabric of their bond.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe him, to bask in the warmth of his embrace. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that one day, he might tire of her fears and her need for reassurance. It was a fear that had plagued her since she first discovered this part of herself, a fear that grew stronger with every doubt that whispered through her mind.

The weight of her emotions was heavy, but she knew she couldn't keep it to herself any longer. "What if I need you too much?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Chan's gaze held hers, his eyes filled with patience and love. "There's no such thing as too much when it comes to taking care of my little girl. You can always count on me."

Little y/n nuzzled into his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling her into a sense of peace. Yet, even as she felt his warmth, she couldn't help but wonder if his words were enough to chase away the shadows of doubt that lurked in the corners of her mind.

"But what if..." she began again, her voice quivering.

Chan's arms tightened around her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "What if what, little one?"

"What if one day you get tired of taking care of me? What if you decide that you don't want to be my daddy anymore?"

The question hung in the air, a silent plea for reassurance. Chan felt a pang of sadness in his chest at the thought of her feeling so insecure, but he knew it was his job to be her rock, her safe place. "I promise you, y/n, that will never happen. Being your daddy is a gift, and I cherish every moment of it."

He tipped her chin up so she had to look at him, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "You are mine, and I am yours, forever and always. We're a team, and nothing can change that."

The sincerity in his voice seemed to seep into her very core, wrapping around her fears and soothing them like a warm blanket. She took a shaky breath, her eyes searching his for any sign that he might be lying.

But all she saw was truth and love.

With a gentle smile, Chan reached over to the coffee table and picked up her favorite stuffed animal, a well-worn teddy bear with a missing eye. "You remember when you first gave me this?"

Her eyes lit up at the memory. "Yes, it was when we first started and I was so nervous."

"You told me then that no matter what, I was your daddy, and you needed me to protect you." He squeezed the bear tightly. "Well, I'm here to tell you that no matter what, you're my little girl, and I'll always be here to protect and love you."

The words resonated within her, filling her with a warmth that she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity. She clutched the bear to her chest and leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence wash over her.

"Thank you, Daddy," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"You're welcome, baby girl," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Now, let's get you cleaned up for dinner. I know you're probably starving."

He helped her to her feet, and together they padded into the bathroom. The warm water of the running bath filled the room with steam, the scent of lavender bubbles enveloping them both. He carefully undressed her, his hands gentle and caring, and she felt a twinge of embarrassment as she stepped into the tub. But his eyes never left hers, and she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of.

"You know," he said, as he helped her sit down, "it's okay to need someone. It's okay to be scared. That's what I'm here for."

As he began to wash her hair, the soft lather tickling her scalp, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust him with all of her fears, all of her imperfections. Maybe she could truly let go and just be his little girl.

And as she closed her eyes and leaned back into his embrace, she let out a sigh of relief, allowing herself to believe in the sanctity of their bond. For now, at least, she was safe.

Chan carefully washed the shampoo from her hair, his touch soothing and familiar. The warm water enveloped her small body, creating a cocoon of comfort. As he helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a fluffy towel, she felt the last of her worries begin to slip away.

He carried her back to their cozy living room, the floor now sticky with damp footprints. The scent of dinner grew stronger, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation. He sat her down on the couch and began to dry her off, his movements methodical and tender.

"Let's get you into some dry clothes," he said, picking out a soft, clean outfit from her little drawer. The fabric was warm from the dryer, and she felt a thrill of excitement as he helped her dress.

When she was all tucked in, he picked her up and carried her to the kitchen. The room was filled with a mouthwatering aroma. On the counter, a plate was already set with her favorite foods, the colors vibrant and inviting.

He sat her in her little chair at the table. The sight of him, so focused on her needs, brought a smile to her lips.

"Eat up, little one," he said, placing the plate in front of her. "You need to keep your strength up for our big day tomorrow."

Her heart skipped a beat. "What's tomorrow?" she asked, her voice filled with hope.

"It's a surprise," he winked, taking his seat beside her. "But I promise it'll be something you'll enjoy."

The mention of a surprise filled her with a warm excitement, pushing the shadows of doubt further away. As they ate in companionable silence, she felt the warmth of his love surrounding her, like a bubble that nothing could penetrate.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel the need to apologize for being a little. She didn't feel like she had to hide or pretend. In that moment, she was just y/n, Daddy's little girl, and she knew she was exactly where she belonged.

With every bite, she felt her walls crumbling, her insecurities giving way to the gentle reassurance that he was there for her, no matter what. And as they shared a dessert of chocolate chip cookies and milk, she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time.

The night grew darker outside, but the light inside their home only grew brighter as they moved into the living room for their nightly routine. She picked out a book from the shelf, and he settled into the chair opposite her, ready to read the bedtime story that would lull her into a peaceful sleep.

As he began to read, the rhythmic cadence of his voice melded with the words on the page, creating a world of wonder and magic that she could lose herself in. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she leaned against his leg, her hand finding its way into his.

And as the story came to an end, she looked up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you, Daddy," she whispered, her voice sleepy.

"You're welcome, little one," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Now, let's get you to bed."

He carried her to her room, the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains. She watched as he tucked her into her little bed, arranging her stuffed animals just so. And as he turned off the light and closed the door, she felt the warmth of his love linger, a gentle reminder that she was cherished and loved, no matter what tomorrow might bring.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Hold My Beer

Pairing: Brief Rumlow X Reader, Biker!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Your old best friend is tired of seeing you in the arms of another. Especially one who doesn’t treat you right. So he’s gonna do something about that.

Warnings: Language, violence (minor), infidelity, breaking up, allusions to smut, biker!bucky,

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: 100% inspired by the Aaron Pritchett song lol. This is kinda short but it’s something I wanna just kinda toss into the void lol. I do think I’ll be writing more for this particular AU!Bucky in the future, I’m just waiting for some inspiration to strike.

Kinda short so no tags lol my bad. Love you all so much❤️❤️❤️

~*~

Steel blue eyes are zeroed in on a couple by the bar.

His focus is on the man. 

More specifically, the way he’s practically ignoring the beautiful woman by his side. 

“You good, Buck?” Steve asks from beside him, nudging his friend lightly with his elbow. 

The brunet hums, his brows drawing together as he watches the man at the bar ogle different woman, while his girl sits with a frown on her pretty face. 

“Yeah, m’fine. I just... gimme one second,” he murmurs, pushing to his feet and walking away from his booth, beer still held tightly in his grasp. 

The blond watches his friend as he approaches the couple at the bar, beyond confused. 

This particular couple has been in the brunet’s bar a couple times, the man causing trouble more often than not, and it’s no secret that he’s less than faithful to his woman. 

To you.

You sit beside your boyfriend, brows pulled together as you watch him eye a woman across the bar. 

It hurts your pride to have him do this in front of you, but he’s already had a few drinks and you know better than to try and argue with him when he’s been drinking. 

“Hey, could you hold my beer for a sec, buddy?” A voice asks. 

You blink yourself out of your thoughts and look up at the man standing before yourself and Brock, brows rising to your hairline. 

None other than Bucky Barnes stands before you.

Solid six feet and five inches of thick muscle towers over your boyfriend, and you can’t help the grin that threatens to pull at your lips.

Brock’s always hated Bucky, and you can’t really blame him.

Your bestfriend-turned stranger is attractive enough to get a nun to sin, and he’s never been shy when it comes to flirting with you. Especially after seeing you cry over the piece of shit sitting next to you.

Bucky’s hatred for Brock Rumlow isn’t hidden at all, and he doesn’t care who knows. You’re too good a woman to be treated the way he treats you, and Bucky’s determined to make you realize that.

He's got a tame beard covering the lower half of his face and his eyes are the warmest icy blue you’ve ever seen, mischief glowing in them. Light freckles dust across his cheeks like stars in the night sky, and his lips are pink and plump. 

You follow his gaze to your boyfriend, and Brock looks just as confused as you feel. 

“I uh... why? What do you want?” He asks while slowly reaching out to hold Bucky’s beer. 

“’Cause your woman needs a kiss, and a boy like you ain’t gonna satisfy her.” With that, Bucky leans in and presses his lips against yours.

He’s kissed you many times before, and you’ve always brushed it off as him being a touchy friend, though you know it’s more than that.

And this is proof.

Because this isn’t a kiss you give your friend.

You sit still for a long moment, shock freezing you before you peck Bucky back and tug away, terrified at what Brock’s reaction’s going to be and warm inside at the intense feeling of Bucky’s lips on yours. 

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!” Brock shouts, moving to hop off the barstool only to be held in place by one of Bucky’s thick tattooed arms. 

He shoves the smaller man back in his seat and levels him with a glare. 

“You’d better not drop my fuckin’ beer,” he whispers dangerously, his true biker roots coming out on display. 

Brock grinds his teeth together and turns his steely glare on you. 

“You see? You ask why I hate when you would see him! It's cause I know you’re a slut who can’t control herself.”

His words bite a little, but they don’t hurt nearly as much as Bucky’s fist connecting with his face. 

The bar goes quiet as Brock grabs at his nose, glaring at the biker. 

“See, you’ve made a few mistakes here tonight. The first was showing your face. The second, was not paying enough attention to your girl. The third, was disrespecting your girl when she deserves the world. And the fourth...” Bucky leans down, his eyes hard and full of hatred, “you spilled my beer.”

You’ve been with Brock Rumlow for an embarrassing amount of time, and never  have you ever seen him look so tiny and terrified. 

“Now, you’re gonna hold my beer and watch my jacket while I take your girl up dancing, and then you’re gonna head on home and you’re gonna clear your shit outta her apartment, you’re gonna delete yourself from her life, and you’re never gonna even think about going near her again, or else it’ll be me you’re dealing with, got it?”

Brock opens his mouth to snark back, but a glance around the bar at all the bikers wearing jackets that match Bucky's has him keeping his mouth shut.

“Alright, good talk. Thanks man!” Bucky calls, grabbing your hand and tugging you off of your stool.

You stumble after him, still in shock at the exchange that just occurred.

“Buck, what the Hell was that?!” You demand, flattening your palms against his chest when he pulls you against him. 

“I’ve sat and watched that prick treat you like garbage for two and a half years, (Y/n). I’m not doing it anymore. You deserve so much better and I'm tired of pretending that I’m okay seeing you with him.”

You blink up at him in shock and shake your head, “Bucky, you can’t just end my relationship like that. Brock and I need to talk about things.” 

He scoffs and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer and kissing your forehead. 

“I just did, sweetheart. You’re gonna come to my place tonight, we’re gonna talk and drink and maybe get a little... friendly, just like we used to, and then tomorrow I’m gonna bring you back to your apartment and if that asshole hasn't cleaned all of his shit out, there’s gonna be Hell to pay.”

You take a deep breath and look over your shoulder to where Brock is sitting. Steve’s by his side, arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his handsome face when he catches your gaze. 

“C’mon, baby. You gonna dance with me like we used to or do you wanna go straight to my place and have me bend you over the counter and eat that pretty pussy like the good old days?”

A shiver races down your spine, shaking the guilt from your stomach as you look up into his ever-blue eyes. 

“I... we can go to your place,” you whisper, smiling shyly when he grins triumphantly. 

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips while one of his hands trails down to your ass, grabbing a handful of it then letting go only to smack it roughly. 

“That’s my girl.”

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 7 -- Kent Connolly

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 7 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

First Time with Kent Connolly x M!Reader

This one is... very long lol. But Kent is just !!! He's so precious, and I felt like I really wanted to draw out the process, since Kent tends to be quite shy and I feel like, in almost every capacity in a romantic relationship, he'd want to take things slowly.

So this is me trying to do that idea justice. If you're craving some serious sweetness with Kent, look no further! 😊

HOWEVER, I do have a couple TWs for allusions to/talk of sexual assault, and also mentions of homophobia. So please be aware of that!

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: First Times, first time jitters, history of sexual assault, homophobic family, lack of acceptance, kissing, confessions of love, undressing, enthusiastic consent, praise, voice kink, light body worship, nipple play, hand jobs, anal fingering, gay sex, aftercare. Sweetness, love, adorableness, KENT AND READER BEING SO SWEET, cuteness, etc.

Words: so many lol 7.5k

--

“You did all this, Sole?” 

“Yeah, well… I figured, you know... this was something special." Your hand touched Kent's shoulder gently as he stared ahead in starry-eyed awe. "Plus, Claire owed me a favor, so… Honeymoon suite it is!”

You opened both arms wide in presentation of the romantic scene as you looked over to Kent with a large, dopey grin. 

Your partner was wide-eyed and frozen as he gazed into the mesmerizing room, his mouth still agape in awe at all you'd done for him.  

The candles, the flower pedals, the plush comforter on the bed, the way the curtains were drawn away from the windows, allowing cool, blue moonbeams to wade through the warm-toned candlelight within the room... It was a scene straight out of a romance novel.  

“It’s... Sole, goodness, it’s all too much for someone like me.”

You turned around to face him at that, a hurt expression creasing your brows as you spoke softly to your partner.

“Kent, sweetheart, you know that’s not true, could never be true. You deserve the world, you hear me?" Stepping forward, you wrapped both arms around the ghoul’s torso, hugging him tightly against you and placing a sweet kiss upon his temple. "And besides, you know how much of a romantic I am, right? I'll take any excuse to do something like this for my beloved hero.” 

You whispered that last bit into his ear, and as Kent turned to you, his eyes were glistening. 

God, he was sweet. Maybe the kindest, most darling man you’d ever met, and he was yours. 

Unable to help yourself, one hand left where it wrapped around Kent’s waist, and went to gently grasp at the point of his chin, holding him in place as you leaned in to kiss him full on the lips. You felt his little jolt, the small yelp of surprise he almost always released when you were this forward with your affections, and pulled back. 

Kent’s light, sparkling eyes were wide as he blinked up at you with parted lips. 

You let yourself take in the sight of him, then. His earnest expression, his genuine surprise, and his slow acceptance that you wanted this. To some, it might’ve become tiresome; the doubts Kent held in himself, the lack of forwardness, of confidence in your relationship, but after all the ghoul had been through, you could never blame him.

Plus… It was nice to take it slow. Necessary, even, after your own struggles, your losses, your difficulties being this vulnerable, this honest with someone about your true self. 

The army never glorified that kind of thing, and your family even less so. Your wife… she had understood, that though you were fond of her, though you loved Shaun with all your heart and held great affection for her, there was always something that was going to be off between the two of you, something that wasn’t the case– or wasn’t meant to be the case– with straight couples. 

But your family hadn’t been any the wiser about your strategically heterosexual marriage, and oh, how they’d adored Nora. And that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? 

At least, that's what they’d thought. 

Even on the hardest days of missing everyone you'd lost, you could never miss the way you couldn't be your true self with the people who were meant to accept you and love you unconditionally.

“Here, why don’t you get settled, I’ll close the door.” You forced yourself from your thoughts and gradually released Kent from your half-embrace as you turned to grab at the handle behind you, pulling the hotel room door closed with a click. 

Kent had seated himself on the end of the bed, not really appearing to be comfortable, but… he was trying. His hands still fidgeted in his lap, his eyes still darted around the room, but you saw him taking deep breaths, felt the nerves radiating off of him beginning, maybe, to dissipate just a little bit. 

“Want me to take your coat?” 

“O-oh, yes, thank you.” 

He pulled the thing off himself as though you were drilling him, like he was being timed, flailing around until he could hand you the stuffy, old suit jacket. 

“And your hat?” 

Kent handed that over swiftly as well, and you moved to hang it– and your own– on the coat rack by the door. 

“Nuka Cola?” You asked as you turned towards the little kitchenette in the lovely, roomy suite. 

As if I really have to ask. 

“Yes, t-that sounds nice.” 

He sounded so stiff, still, and a small part of you wished it was just another evening in his room; that instead of this lavish date night, you’d simply have shared the evening chatting about comics and a dozen other things in the quiet comfort of the Memory Den. Yet, you’d both talked about this so much recently, these next big steps in the relationship, moving forward after so long of holding things off, of taking the time you both needed to heal and get used to the idea of intimacy and vulnerability again, after your respective struggles. 

“Here, baby.” You handed him one cola bottle, and kept the other in hand as you sat down beside your partner on the lavish, burgundy comforter. 

“Wow,” You said with a chuckle, bouncing lightly on the cushy mattress. “This is... the nicest bed I’ve been on since waking up.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed with a rasp, “ahem, ah, comfy… yeah.” 

Kent swallowed like he had a radroach stuck in his throat, but took a swig of his drink nonetheless. 

You felt the energy in the air around you, the charged silence like volts of electricity flowing through your shared space, leaving you just as on-edge as your partner.

A deep breath left you, and you turned to him with a gentle determination.

“Kent, hon... we can just spend the night here, if you want.” You finally offered, breaking the silence. “The last thing I want is to pressure either of us, or to make you uncomfortable.” 

Kent's eyes met yours, and you saw apology shining there. 

“It’s okay." You insisted with a smile and a bump of your hand against his arm, "I promise, baby. If we’re not ready, we’re not. You know I’ve got no problem holding off. I’m… well, I’m definitely pretty nervous myself, to be honest.” 

“Y-you are?” Kent's bright blue eyes widened, his brow raising as though had no idea of your own struggles, your own inexperience. 

I swear, I told him… but maybe…

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little, your hands wringing around the glass neck of the bottle you held. “I actually had to ask Hancock for some tips.” 

“Oh.” Kent’s brow furrowed immediately, and he looked away from you. “Yeah… with ghouls I don’t know how different it tends to be–”

“No, Kent, that’s not what I meant, I… Did I really never tell you? In all the talks we’ve had about this?” 

“Tell me what?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the cruel claws of self-consciousness creep under your skin.

But he'd been honest with me. About everything.

You trusted Kent, with everything in you, you knew he'd never judge you, never breathe a word of something that you wanted to stay secret, but now... Well, Nora was the only one who'd ever really known the truth about you.

Maybe Hancock had an idea, given some of the questions you'd asked him in preparation for tonight, but you hadn't spilled your life story to him, he didn't know your background. You'd been vague with the details of why you needed some pointers, but this... This was as open as you could be.

A secret your closest family never even knew.

“That I’ve never… well, I've never been with another man before.” 

His gaze returned to yours with a whip of his head, brows still raised high, startling eyes wide with wonder. 

“N-no, Sole, I… I never knew.” Kent's head shook slowly back and forth. “And you want... your first time to be with–”

“Absolutely, Kent.” Your hand was on his before you even knew you’d moved, wrapping around it reassuringly as you scooted closer. “And you still want me to be your first?” You asked quietly, quite sure you knew the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway, wanting him to know you cared. 

Kent nodded to you with a small grin, before it quickly was dashed from him and his eyes grew strangely distant as they looked past you at some invisible memory.

“Well, you know… almost my first.” His voice was small, quiet as a breeze over snow-covered ground, and almost broke at the words. Your chest gave a painful ache that damn near knocked the breath from you at the sound of him, the sunken look upon your beloved partner's face. 

“Listen to me, love,” You scooted closer, until your thigh was brushing Kent’s, turning your body towards him and grasping at his hand all the harder, as reassuring a gesture as you could manage without overwhelming him. “What Sinjin’s goons did to you doesn’t count for shit, alright? That was… it was wrong and awful, it was cruel and it doesn’t count. You hear me?” 

He couldn’t quite speak, so Kent only nodded, and to your surprise, the ghoul actually leaned forward, falling into your chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

You felt a hollowness, a vile taste on your tongue as you recalled finding him in the aftermath that night, dressed as the Shroud and finishing off every last one of those criminal assholes before gently folding a shaking Kent into your comforting embrace.

If only you'd known before what they had done... You wouldn't have made their deaths so quick.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You leaned into your partner now, one hand moving behind him to rub soothing circles over the length of his back. 

“No.” 

You heard Kent croak out, and pulled yourself away slightly to look into his eyes. 

“You're sure?” 

He nodded; firmly, even, and you listened intently as Kent opened his mouth to speak. 

“I want to make new memories. With you, Sole. Ones that can replace the others… That can make me… happy, instead of… Well, you know.” 

You had to swallow as tears came unbidden to your eyes, feeling the way your throat tightened at the power of his words, of his resolve.

“That’s really brave, Kent.” 

“Yeah, well…” A small smile pulled at the ghoul’s lips, and you felt your heart soar at the sight. “You know me. Bravery. It’s what I’m all about.” 

A chuckle left you, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. 

“Look, you may joke about it…” You whispered to him, “But really, I think it’s true, love. You’re brave as the Silver Shroud, there’s no doubt about it.” 

“Aw, stop it, Sole.” His hand weakly, jokingly, pushed at your chest as you both grinned. 

The air seemed a bit lighter now, some of the candles had burned down to nothing, and a cool breeze wafted through the slightly parted windows. A chill ran up your spine, but this time, instead of nerves, it was likely just the cold… or maybe the excitement you felt bubbling up. 

It’s decided. You reminded yourself. We’re actually doing this tonight. 

Instead of pulling away from him to start, you laid another kiss over Kent’s lips, and after a moment of stiffness, he leaned into it. You felt the brush of hot air as he exhaled through his ruined nose, but still, he only pushed further into you, tilting his head and kneading his phantom lips over yours. The friction had your mouth tingling, and the taste of your partner was sweet from the Fancy Lad’s cakes and Nuka Cola still on his tongue from after dinner. 

Finally, you pulled away, only for a brief moment, as you grabbed both the bottles of cola and leaned to set them down on the bedside table. 

“Hey,” You said as you scooted back on the bed, making it easier for you to lie down flat on the mattress. “Why don’t you take the lead? That way, if you start feeling uncomfortable, you can just take it back a notch. You can sort of set the pace, you know?” 

“You think that’ll work?” His voice was small, uncertain, even as his gaze set upon the way your body leaned back against the pillows at the head of the bed. As his gaze hinted at the yearning he felt within. 

“It’s up to you, love. Just thought it could be something to try?” 

Kent nodded then, and slowly, his body moved to join yours fully on the bed. Your breath almost caught in your throat as Kent crawled over top of you. He was still hesitant, yes, but his movements were more sure of themselves than you could’ve hoped. 

His arms caged you in from where he hovered above you, and his torso and hips pressed to yours as he gradually lowered his bodyweight onto you. 

“T-this okay?” 

“It's perfect, baby.” 

With that, a grin lit up Kent’s expression, and instilled the confidence he needed to press forward, to capture your lips in a kiss once again. 

His kisses were always as earnest as Kent himself was; careful, asking, sure, but more recently… brave. He kissed you with more confidence than you were used to, after being with him for so many months now, and this time, it took your breath away. Even then, as Kent felt you gasp into him, he didn’t pull away, only pushed forward.

A pleasant heat started radiating around you, invigorating your movements as you allowed your hands to raise off the mattress, to begin to roam over Kent’s body. Your fingers lightly grazed up his sides, and you felt him tense over you. In response, you slowed a bit, and only continued when you felt him release a breath and relax under your touch. 

It was a delightful dance you two weaved with one another, a push and pull, a giving and asking of consent that had you aching for more. If you could glean anything from his movements, it was that Kent too, was eager to feel you explore him. The way he ran his lips over yours in such charming movements-- there was an honest wanting behind them, but always of a respectful sort. In that moment, you realized, you truly couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this with. 

“Kent.” You mumbled through your contact, and he pulled away only a hair’s breadth. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you mind…” Your fingers grazed over the bottom hem of his button up, “Can I take this off?” 

If his complexion had been different, you were sure you would’ve seen him blush at your request. Instead, he just looked away shyly, before nodding and sitting up to help. 

You joined him, bracing yourself against the pillows as you leaned forward and began to undo the buttons of his dress vest. When you had them undone, he shrugged the garment off, and looked down in wonder as your fingers set upon the smaller clasps on his shirt. Your smiling eyes met his, and Kent just looked… God, he had a way of– when he smiled at you– making you feel like you were the most important thing on this planet. 

You found yourself sincerely hoping your own look echoed that sentiment right back at him.

Once you had it undone, Kent helped you to pull the shirt from his shoulders as well; though, this time a bit more hesitantly, as he revealed his bare chest and torso to your gaze. You let your eyes rake leisurely down his body, from where you’d been looking in his eyes, now to his throat, the bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped at the way you took him in, then down to his chest, how it rose and fell with his hurried breaths, his soft stomach, all rough and textured like you’d expected, but also, just…

He was breathtaking.

A man who’d lived so long, who’d been through as much as he had, and made it out still as sweet and loving as anyone you’d ever known-- hell, more so than anyone you'd known. He was everything good about humanity, wrapped up in this charming body, and offering himself to you, to be explored, to be loved, as he deserved; and dammit, you were going to live up to that, you were going to love him like everything good about the world was meant to be appreciated, respected, adored, and never taken for granted.

“Your turn?” Kent's voice interrupted your visual praise of him, and you nodded eagerly at the notion that he wanted to see you this way too. 

“Sorry, babe." You said with an easy smile, "Just got caught up in you. You’re just… You’re very handsome, Kent.” 

He tried to hold back the dopey, blushy grin threatening to take over his face, but you committed that look to memory before he could dash it away completely.

We'll have to work on that. How he could be sheepish about such a charming expression, I'll never know. I could see that look a hundred times a day and never grow tired of it.

Shakily, Kent set his fingers to your own set of buttons, the motion tickling slightly as he undid them as carefully as one might defuse a landmine. Your own hands worked at the cufflinks at the end of your sleeves, so when Kent was done, you could just pull the garment off straightaway. 

Once it was off, Kent must’ve gone through the same process you had only a few moments ago, his vibrant blue eyes taking you in without so much as a blink. The light scars upon your otherwise smooth skin from battles old and new, the crop of chest hairs below your collar bones, the way your stomach rose and fell from your own rapid breaths. 

Without a word, Kent’s hands found your chest, settling there reverently, his fingers stroking over your unmarred form, the coarse little hairs there, one hand even going down to brush gently over the point of your nipple, before his pressure eased you back, to lay down fully on the mattress. 

“I want…” Kent's roughened hands kept stroking over you, the light touches stimulating your nerves in an almost frustrating way. “I want to kiss you again.” 

“Please.” It left you on a desperate breath, and Kent pushed forwards eagerly. The warmth of your skin collided as he laid back over you, and his hands went up to wrap around your shoulders, even as your own touch set to drawing soothing patterns over the textured skin of his bare back. 

His lips, however, were only on yours for a moment, before Kent moved lower, setting them to the line of your jaw, then down to your neck, where you felt goosebumps spread from the tickling sensation of his feather-light kisses. 

“Ahh,” you sighed out, “That’s… that’s really nice, babe.” 

Kent hummed into you as he continued, and you blinked open your eyes to look down at him. His were still closed in a bliss of his own, as he worked over you with his worn lips, dragging them over your skin before pressing small crops of tingly kisses down your collarbone, and then onto your chest. 

As he moved lower, your hands slid up his body, now resting upon his shoulders, rubbing there with a bit of pressure until you felt his lips in a new place. He pulled away, surprising you, then, when his warm, wet lips set upon one erect little nipple, giving it a curious prod with his tongue. Immediately, your body tensed beneath him, your hands grasping firmly to his shoulders at the shock of his forward touch on that small, sensitive place. 

“Did that hurt?” Kent backed off quickly, his expression panicked as he looked down at you with furrowed brows. 

“N-no, it–” Your own chuckle interrupted you, “That actually feels really good, it just surprised me, is all.” 

“Oh, s-sorry.” 

“No!” You could tell you said the word too loudly, but honestly, if Kent got it into your head that you didn’t like that, well… it just wouldn’t be the truth, right? And heroes all strive towards the truth.

“No," You said more quietly this time, "Kent, please don’t apologize, I jerked up like that because it just felt so shockingly good. You're, god, I mean, you're a natural.” 

He made that face again, like he was trying to stifle a blush, and goodness, if that wasn’t one of the loveliest sights you’ve had the privilege to see. 

“You got a gift, baby, honestly.” 

“So... I should do it again?”

You licked your lips unwittingly as you nodded, silently wondering how sensitive he was in that same place upon his chest. You’d have to test it one day, but for now, you settled back to how you both were before.

Your stomach already buzzed in anticipation as Kent leaned forward, his eyes locked to your expression expectantly as he gave you a little teasing lick. Your own eyes closed in bliss, a chill running up your back from the too-light touch on your sensitive little bud, and a sigh left your lungs you as he did it again, drawing the action out a bit this time, much to your obvious delight. 

“Aw, yeah… that’s it.” You arched your back up against the mattress, pushing out your chest and urging your partner to continue. You let him witness the whole range of pleasure coursing through you, as your hands grasped his shoulders tightly, as you gasped with each lick, each sensual little suck, as your eyes rolled back in your head and you groaned out in response to your his touches. Just as you felt your nipple growing more sensitive, as it began to harden in response to the stimulation, Kent followed his instincts and switched to the other one. Thankfully though, he had the good sense to slide one hand up your body, to tease at the– now distinctly sensitive– bud he’d left temporarily unattended. 

Breaths continued to leave you in labored pants, and you could feel a tense bulge forming between your legs in response to his increasingly heated motions.

Kent appeared to be enjoying himself as well, it seemed, as you felt the evidence of his excitement against one of your thighs. As he laid sprawled over you, likely unwittingly, Kent began to grind his hips in slow, undulating movements against you. 

“Geeze, babe, that feels nice.” You continued to praise him, feeling your voice grow huskier with building arousal. “C-can I ask you something else?” You added at the last minute, your heart already beginning to pound against your chest at the thought of what you were about to request. 

“Hm?” Kent looked up at you, his eyes foggy as he blinked away the haze of his own increasing pleasure. “O-of course.” 

“I want us to do this, Kent.” You tried to regulate your voice, to keep it from wavering, to keep your eyes on him, even as you felt your cheeks flush with heat. 

“M-me too, Sole.” He whispered back with a little smile. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your own grin took over your expression. 

“Alright, so, I was thinking… Maybe we could, um, take off...”

“This next?” 

Kent leaned back even more, then, and one hand laid to rest lightly over the button of your dress pants. 

You nodded rapidly, feeling that bulge between your legs tingle with anticipation.

“Y-yeah, exactly. If you’re ready.” You quickly added. 

Though his brows were creased, though you could see a small shadow of nervousness clouding his vision for just a brief moment, next, his gaze was back on you, and with a nod, Kent's fingers brushed over the swell of your building erection.

“I was a little, ah, nervous when I felt it, but… Like you said. Gotta be brave. If the Shroud gave up every time he felt a little nervous, well, he wouldn’t be a hero now, right?” 

Your smile could only broaden at his sound reasoning. 

“I guess not," You agreed, "but, still… Kent, I don’t want to pressure you–” 

He cut you off, surprising you with his brash forwardness as his lips quickly captured yours.

You had no choice but to melt into it, rejoicing in the firmness of the contact, the way you could feel his rapid pulse through his skin, and still taste honeyed bliss on his tongue as it shyly darted out to meet yours.

Again, you found yourself in utter awe at his admirable courage.  

“You’re not," He said as he pulled away, "Don’t worry, my love.”

With that, Kent leaned back again, settling his knees on either side of your thighs as his fingers brushed over your button and zipper. “I really want this too, you know. Even if I'm nervous... doesn't mean I want it any less.” 

Your heart jumped, and as his eyes set upon your face again, you gave him one last nod of assurance, and felt pressure release as your button popped open. 

Your partner worked slowly, as had become custom with you two, much to both your liking, and pulled down the zip, before he began to shimmy both your briefs and pants down at once. You lifted your ass off the mattress to allow him to slide them down, and then it went easy, until at last, Kent was tugging the pant legs off from around your ankles. 

You were too busy staring at his precious expression as he took you in fully, for the first time, to notice what it was exactly he had his gaze set on. Without realizing it, you’d grown more than a bit stiff within the fabric walls of your briefs. Your cock stood up against your lower stomach, at full hardness, as Kent blinked down at you. 

“Wow…” He breathed, and you could feel your blush rising at his unabashed scrutiny. “I, no, you… I really made you like this?” 

Another nod, another blush, and another instance where Kent was in awe of you. And goodness, how that overwhelming feeling was wholly mutual. 

“Kent, baby…” 

At that, he snapped out of his haze, blinking as his gaze met yours.

“Right.” Kent cleared his throat, and scooted towards you with intent, and then… stopped, at a loss. “W-what should I do next?” 

“Well, what do you want to do?” 

His brows furrowed cutely, an expression akin to a pout resting on his face as he considered your question.

“T-touch you?” He suddenly asked.

Very well. Your expression plainly told him, and with a shy smile, you reached out, easing his hands into yours as you guided them to where your erection strained up against your belly. 

Slowly, his fingers wrapped around you with a tentative firmness, one that satisfied, but still left you aching for more. He drew his hands up, with your guidance, and smoothed down the generous bead of slick pre-cum from your slit over the rest of your shaft, easing the friction of his touch over you. A breathy groan escaped from your parted lips, and you felt Kent’s pace quicken, his confidence building at your reactions to his efforts. 

“Is this okay?” His raspy voice still questioned, even as he continued his dizzying movements. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought his words were meant to tease-- that your innocent, sweet little Kent Connolly was being smug.

But you knew better.

“More than okay." You assured him as the words left you almost in a groan. "Mm, feels really good, baby.” 

Kent's grip tightened a bit, and your hips bucked up into his textured touch in response, but instead of pulling away like he had with your chest, your partner's pace only grew more insistent against you. 

A shuddering breath left your lungs, some form of a ‘yeah,’ following shortly after as you felt your cock twitch within his grasp.

“H-hold on, please.” You held up one hand as you panted, as you felt sweat slickening over your back and forehead, as that tightening knot down below threatened to come undone all too soon. 

Kent's hands paused their movement, but stayed upon you as your gazes met. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, god no, the opposite.” You chuckled, but Kent only blinked at you.

“Getting too close, that’s all. Want this to last longer. I want… Want to touch you.” 

A moment of consideration, and then Kent’s hands left your protesting cock. 

“Okay.” He said with a new certainty, shifting back to give you room to sit up. 

With that, you rose, and set your hands upon his body gently, encouraging your partner to lie down in your place on the mattress, before you returned his earlier favor, and tentatively removed his trousers and the underwear beneath. 

Silver Shroud boxer-briefs… You noted with a fond smile, Who could’ve guessed?

You made no comment to him though, continuing with your efforts without pause. You allowed the clothes to pile up on the floor, and took in the full sight of your partner spread out beneath you. 

Much like Kent earlier in the evening, you just couldn’t help yourself.

Soon, your lips found him-- his lips-- briefly in a sweet, chaste kiss, then to his neck, drawing a shining line of spit over his collar bone with your wet lips, down to his chest, mouthing and leaving teasing, light lovebites in your wake as you steadily moved lower down his body. 

A fresh bout of breathy sighs and whines left your partner at your actions, and shudders of pleasure ran up and down through your nerves at the way he sounded from your attentions, the way he blissfully moaned out your name, how his voice caressed the hotel-room air as though he were whispering it for everyone in the world to hear. To hear and to know that you loved him, and that he loved this, despite all odds.

Because it was with you. 

You couldn’t help but warm fondly at the thought, and at the realization that you felt the same such way. 

As your lips set upon his lower stomach, grazing lightly over his pubic bone, you felt the heat of Kent's own rising erection building so near to your face. The next instant, and one hand was upon him lightly, gentle, asking touches that had him nodding wildly in approval above you, until you took his textured girth in-hand, and began to leisurely stroke. He was already mostly hard, already leaking like you were, and, also like you, Kent was pleading for you to ease up only moments after you’d began your ministrations. 

“So, ah…” You both had to stop and take a couple of breaths, allowing your mind to clear somewhat before you voiced your inquiry. “You want to try for the main event?” 

Inwardly, you cringed at your wording, making it sound like some show or sporting contest, when really… this was something softer, unostentatious, just… honest. Even with the romance that bled into it, the theatre of the candles and flower pedals and the honeymoon suite... the act itself was more subdued than any act upon a stage, or any great concert in an arena, it was just another soft chapter of your love story. It was words on a page: tangible, but only just so, only by the hands that caress it, by the eyes that so thoughtfully take it in.

“I-I do…” Kent said, his words hushed, but tinged with excitement.

You could see though, that he wanted to say something more, and with a swallow, he did.

“So, you want to, um… be on top?” 

You blinked in surprise at his forwardness, but still, you were grateful for it. Not only did it open up the conversation, as you had planned on doing yourself, but it showed that he was actively participating in this. He was choosing to be with you, and of course, of course that was necessary to continue in any capacity, but so far in your relationship, you’d lead the way. Kent was more tentative, less confident, less experienced, but when he made an effort to participate so enthusiastically, it just… it put your mind and heart at ease. He told you time and time again, ‘I want this.’ but words and actions are different, and after all he’d been through… you needed all he could give to determine how enthusiastic-- how ready-- he truly was. 

“That’s… well,” You started, “That’s all I’ve ever done, um, so far, you know, with Nora... Um, so I wouldn’t mind it, but… Where would you be most comfortable?” 

“Why don’t you take the lead this time?” Kent offered with a shaky voice, and stayed put where he was lying back on the bed, giving you your answer in more ways than one. 

With a nod, you slid off the mattress, and though Kent was surely surprised as you left him briefly, any inquiries of his were answered a moment later, when you settled yourself at the foot of the bed with a bottle of lube clasped in one hand. 

Hancock’s ‘most important tip,’ as he had put it. 

"Don't be shy with this stuff, trust me, heh."

He'd winked then too, but the genuine insistence was there in his words, and you weren't about to ignore them.

“It might be a little cold,” You warned as you squirted a generous amount into the palm of one hand, “but lemme just…”

You rubbed both hands together, trying to warm the gel up a bit, before lowering them between your partner’s legs. With a swallow of his nerves, Kent spread them wider for you, and with his invitation extended, you began to touch him. 

He gasped at first, but even so, you felt his body making efforts to relax as your hands grazed over his most intimate places. Slowly, you allowed your fingers to ease downward from his erection, down the seam of his ass until you reached his hole, tentatively spreading the slick of the lube there as you tried to pleasure him all at once. You felt Kent clench just a tad, before the pressure eased, and you heard a deep breath leave him. 

“This okay?” You questioned, keeping your gaze locked to his expression as your hands moved. 

“Y-yeah, Sole. Just… slow.”

“Slow.” You repeated, your own breath becoming shaky as you felt your arousal pooling low in your stomach. Unwittingly, you found one of your slickened hands pulling away and going to your own cock, stroking and spreading the lube over your length as your other hand continued familiarizing Kent with your intimate touch. 

One finger prodded gently at his asshole, and the faintest of moans left him at the near-intrusion. 

“You like that?” Your expression soon became a bit smug, proud of the way your touch obviously excited him. 

Kent didn’t answer, not with words, anyway, but as you did it again, his hardened member gave an excited little jerk of its own, and another– lovely– involuntary sound spilled from his parted lips. 

Your partner relaxed further back into the mattress as you continued toying with him, until, with relative ease, you found your prodding index finger sinking into him. The movement was accompanied by a throaty groan, but you honestly weren’t sure if the noise had come from you or him. 

Both, perhaps. Your thoughts suggested, and you felt your cheeks heat at that.

Kent tightened momentarily around the new sensation as you probed a bit further, and you allowed time for him to adjust while your other hand worked over your pulsing cock.

Once he’d relaxed enough for the pressure to let up, you began to withdraw, before pushing back in once more. It was slow, steady, just like the rest of the blissful night had been.

Eventually, one finger turned to two, and you thrust them unhurriedly, lovingly so; kneading and curling your fingers against his pliant walls, and pulling a menagerie of unusually wanton noises from your coy, intimately sheepish other half. 

“God, I love the sounds you’re making for me, love.” You leaned your body over his slightly, letting your skin brush his as you continued working your fingers in and out of him, your half-lidded gaze set religiously on the way his brows creased together, how the muscles in his throat strained, his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your movements. 

“... Can I–?” 

You tried to begin your inquiry, but Kent’s half-moan, half-plead stopped you in your tracks. 

“Yes,” He whined out, “Yes, Sole, I-I'm ready for you.” 

The words had you quivering, had your eyes fogging over in bliss, your cock nudging up into your hand as if to encourage you to move forward.

Who were you to deny it? To deny him?

You scooted even closer to your partner, as you withdrew your fingers from him, and placed your free hand over one hip, holding Kent in place beneath you as the other guided the tip of your cock to rest at his entrance. 

“Please.” Kent looked like a dream as he eagerly shimmied his hips into you, his own cock drooling a strand of translucent pre-cum onto his soft stomach as you fought to hold yourself back. All of this, his pleading for you, the sight of him spread out beneath your body, the feel of his warmth, the smell of sex and spiced candles in the air, it had you straining and leaking all the same as your partner was.

But you had to be gentle, had to be slow. With that thought in mind, you nudged the head of your cock against him, and gradually, pressed your hips forward. You were pleased by the way he relented to you so easily, the feel of him damn-near making tears form in your eyes at the way his heat encased your sensitive tip, clenching and thrusting towards you, demanding more.  

“Good?” Your voice strained out the word.

Kent nodded frantically, one hand going to grasp at your wrist where you were holding onto his hips, and giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

With that, you allowed yourself to push steadily in further, feeling the delicious drag of his walls over you, the pleasant ease of the slick lubricant only making your movements more fluid, more blissful. 

Twin gasps left your lips as you finally bottomed out inside him, and you felt Kent’s grasp over your wrist tighten almost to the point of pain as his breath picked up in his chest. 

“Geeze, Sole…” He rasped as he blinked up at you, sky-blue eyes hazy like fog over the ocean as they clouded over with pleasure. 

“You feel so good.” You moaned out, and felt his body shudder at the sound of your praise. It was all you needed to begin pulling yourself out, only a couple inches, before easing your length back inside. Kent’s free hand tugged at the fabric of the comforter as your pace picked up, his teeth set together as his jaw clenched; you hoped, from the overwhelming pleasure, and not discomfort. 

“Feel so good around me… Doing so well, baby.” You encouraged as your breath picked up with the steadily increasing pace of your thrusts. “You doing okay?” 

“Mmhm. Ah-huh.” A whine escaped his throat, but the way it left him at the same moment his cock spilled another bead of pre-cum over his skin allowed you to make a pretty sound determination. 

“You like this, love?” 

Another thrust, this one a tad more aggressive than any before it, and you heard the skin of your hips meet his ass with a resounding clap. 

“Y-yeah, I do.” The sound of his raised voice went straight to your throbbing member, growing all the harder within him at the strain you detected there, but also the sheer honesty. His want for this, for you inside him, for you to be engaging in this scary, intimate act together that was more worth it than you ever could’ve imagined.

This is what intimacy means. Two people unselfishly and unabashedly loving one another, supporting one another, yearning for one another. You accepting him, and him, you. Love, free of judgement, completely honest, completely overwhelming in its sincerity.

You yearned to see Kent like this a thousand more times, to feel him surrounding you, his body and yours singing praises to each other while your minds and hearts embraced in the same such way. 

“Kent, ah…” A more drawn-out moan forced itself from your throat, and he clenched at the way you whined his name.

“Babe, I-I love you.” You managed, and your partner gasped, his eyes bursting open at the sound of your precious words. 

“You… you mean that?” His hand on you tightened its grip.

“Always, baby.” You said so quickly you nearly cut him off, “I love everything about you, and I… I love you for trusting me this way.” 

You leaned over him now, and felt Kent adjust himself to allow you to lay comfortably over top him. Your chests brushed together, shared breaths mingling in the small space that separated your faces. You were as close to him as one could be to another, and still, you craved more. 

“I love you too, Sole. More than I ever thought I c-could love someone.” 

His whispered words drew your lips to his, and held you there, reveling in the feel of his touch, his taste, the sweet massage of his textured lips against yours. 

Your thrusts into him had eased as you spoke, but now, they picked back up, the force of them jolting your bodies and the large mattress below until you heard the springs straining under your combined weight. 

A gasp left Kent each time your cock hilted inside him, and soon enough, you were forced to separate from the kiss, as you both quickly became winded. 

“I-I’m getting close.” You managed as you felt your blood rushing, your stomach tightening, fire flowing through your veins. 

“I am too.” Kent almost sounded surprised, like that fact had snuck up on him, and you grinned as you focused the grinding of your hips more strategically, flexing and unflexing your stomach muscles where his leaking erection was trapped between your bodies. 

His gasps turned to moans, Kent’s hips bucking upwards to meet you, to increase the friction over his aching cock, before his breath hitched in his chest, and he released.

A searing warmth blossomed between your bodies as he met his blissful end beneath you. Your eyes stayed locked to his expression as he rode out his pleasure, fixating on the way his jaw dropped, his eyes closed tightly, his little phantom nose wrinkled as he tensed and writhed and bucked up into you like his life depended on your closeness for its survival. 

His expression, the way he clenched around you, his warmth, his spend dripping onto your skin, it was too much, and you followed right after him.

Kent’s legs wrapped around you, holding your body firmly in place as you shouted out your own release, spilling deep inside him. He came down from his high just as you were riding yours out, groaning at the feel of you finishing so deep within, the continuing pressure of your cock against his sore walls, the oversensitivity of your stomach grinding against his tired cock proving almost too much, until finally, you stilled over top him. 

Both of you merely existed for a moment, panting out your exertion while you stayed pressed together snugly and basked in the pleasant afterglow of your first union together.

With a protesting sort of grunt though, you began to ease yourself up and out of your partner. You’d laid a towel over the headrest of the bed in preparation, and grabbed it now with one shaky hand, bringing it between your bodies to swipe away the mess of lube and spend. Kent was nearly asleep, his eyes half-closed as he watched you clean him with a tired little grin upon his lips. 

Unable to resist the call of that sweet, endearing expression, you bent down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth, before collapsing on the comforter beside him. 

“That was…” You started, shaking your head as you tried to finish the sentence, but there… there weren't the words to describe the bliss you’d just felt. 

“It was better than the Silver Shroud.” Kent whispered, almost chuckling to himself, even as your eyebrows flew high up on your forehead at his confession. 

There was certainly humor there, but also genuine surprise as you sat up to look at him-- to question both the soundness of that statement and his state of mind.

“It was?!”

A chuckle and a nod were your answer, his precious blue eyes crinkling with mirth at your animated response.

"Wow... that's saying a lot, baby. You sure you're okay?"

With that, Kent scooted his body closer to yours, warming your heart as his arms wrapped about you without a measly ounce of hesitation.

"Honestly?" His sleepy voice rasped, "I don't think there's a time I've ever been better."

[miss-tc-nova]

Forgetting Familiar - Riku x Reader

Okay, I think this is as good as it's going to get. Sorry. But I can't do much more without like doubling the words and at that point, I've lost the plot, lol. Still, thank you for bringing me back some angsty Riku.

Premise: Riku is struggling with being alone

Words: 2,016

~~~~~

               Pain throbs in my skull, shattering respite in the darkness. For a while, I try ignore it and delve deeper into the realm of sleep, but it’s just too much and now I must suffer the world of the waking.

               The grey ceiling seems unassuming, but even it burns my eyes. Rubbing at my face doesn’t soothe a thing. Still, I manage to sit up and take a look. Pots and shelves line the walls, filled with all sorts of objects and knickknacks. Behind the bed is a single window, letting in the abhorrently-blinding light and across the way is a plain, wooden door.

               I don’t know this room.

               Legs wobble trying to support me, even landing me back on the bed once. Voices from behind the door encourage me to stand. My head screams for me to stop, to let the floor take me and stop struggling. But I stagger on.

               Pulling the door open, I find a large group of people on the other side. Whatever chatter ensuing now falls silent, all eyes on me. All of them look surprised, but not as much as the young man with silver hair and the most-striking teal eyes.

               Again, my crippled legs take me down, drawing gasps from the crowd. Hasty steps bring the silver-haired man skidding on his knees before me. Warm, firm hands on my shoulders hold me steady.

               “Are you okay?! Do you feel sick?! Are you dizzy?!”

               His words rush by so fast they slip through my brain’s grasp. So my mouth lets run the truth.

               “My head hurts.”

               “Well you were thrown through a stone wall,” the tall red-head remarks.

               “Xemnas wasn’t holding back even a little,” says the girl with ebony hair.

               The man in front of me pushes the hair from my face, being so careful in spite of his anxiety.

               “I was so worried. I thought you were gone.”

               The sound kind of just falls out of my mouth.

               Eyes wide, horror dawning on his expression, he asks, “What?”

               It takes a moment for my thoughts to sort themselves out and I repeat myself.

               “Who are you?”

~~~~~

               I can still hear his screaming in my ears. He begged in vain before turning to cursing how nothing was fair. However, what he cried for I’m still not entirely sure. All memory has been erased from my mind—I’m lucky to even recognize my own name. The context by which everyone else works is the only basis I’ve been able to work on during these last few months.

               From what I’ve gathered, I was an ally to those I met upon waking up and my amnesia is but one of the unfortunate results of the worlds-deciding battle hard won. Another was the loss of a very important team member and the self-induced coma of another. Both of these individuals were the best friends of Riku.

               That pain of losing loved ones that Riku is suffering is one I can only imagine, made worse by the fact that he has none to share it with. That battle took away everything from him and that’s worthy of my pity.

               Still, that’s no excuse for dragging me into his breakdown. Terra and Ven had to physically pry his hands off me while Aqua and the three fairies ushered me back into the other room. His fingers digging into my skin and the utter fear in his eyes are burned into my senses. He wanted so desperately for me to remember, but it was useless. Perhaps I held the secret to his friends’ returns. If I did, I don’t remember it and I may never remember it again.

               For now, I’ve been left in the care of Master Yen Sid as both his assistant and patient. Dozens of attempts have been made to restore my memory with no success. Meanwhile, we’ve simultaneously scoured tome upon tome for the whereabouts of the lost keyblade wielder. It hasn’t been miserable—I’m sure I’ve learned more about this existence that I knew before—but I can’t help feeling like something’s not right.

               Another stack of books obscures my sight as I climb the spiral stairs. Knuckles rap against the wooden door as I let myself into the Master’s office.

               “Sir, I’ve brought your latest request of—whoa!”

               “Careful!”

               The tower in my arms begins to topple. However, before I lose all control of the stack, someone on the other side rights the balance.

               “Phew. Thank you…”

               The sentiment dies on my tongue at the sight of the man who saved me. His eyes quickly divert, ensuring I’m stable enough to be released.

               “No problem…”

               Shaking the awkwardness, I approach the Master’s desk. “Your books, sir.”

               His ever-intense gaze skims the spines before him. “I’m afraid there are other books that I’m in need of.”

               I gesture to the walls of texts in which he’s barricaded himself. “We’re running out of space to store any more books.”

               The wizened wizard eyes his leftovers. “True. Perhaps it’s time to return some of these to their rightful homes and make room for new knowledge.”

               I sigh.

               “You can go with Riku.”

               Neither of us seemed to expect that. “What?!”

               “If you need books returned, I can do that for you with—” Riku’s glance convinces me that he’s choosing to reword his statement. “—er, without taking up your assistant’s valuable time.”

               “No. I’m in need of more research.” Master’s eyes turn back on me. “You know what sort of material I’m looking for as well as which books I’ve already combed through. And I trust you to acquire any others that may be of interest. So I would like you to accompany Riku to Radiant Gardens and peruse the library of Ansem the Wise.”

               Shoulders drop, gaze falling to the floor. “Yes sir.”

               “Riku, thank you for the update on the situation. I presume my infringement on your next destination isn’t too much to ask.”

               “No sir.” His head dips and, with the utmost formality, he faces me to gesture towards the door. “Whenever you’re ready.”

               Defeated, I point to the pile beside the door. “These ones are ready to be returned to Radiant Gardens.”

               Riku grabs a handful and takes the lead, giving me one last chance to throw a pleading glance to Master Yen Sid, who’s already delving into his next book. With my fate sealed, I join Riku in loading up the gummiship. The work and flight go quiet, awkward, filled with tension that I’m not entirely sure the origin of.

               Greeted by the guards at Radiant Gardens, we’re left to our own devices. Riku sees that I know my way to the library before I send him off on his own errands, happy to be rid of the stress.

               It’s not that I dislike Riku; I just don’t understand him. All I know is the fragility of his current state, not what drives him or who he really is. So I consider it best not to be involved, lest I potentially make his problems worse. It’s not as if he’s made any effort to change my present views of him either. His visits to the tower are brief, sparing me only painful glances before rushing off again. Even worse, he makes it feel like everything is wrong. If I had to guess, we weren’t all that close.

               My finger skims another spine, plucking the book to peruse its contents.

               “Find any more books for Master Yen Sid?”

               I glance back. I didn’t think he could get any more melancholic. That stony somberness has turned to utter dejection. He looks like he could collapse at any moment from the weight of his own depression.

               “Uh, yeah.” I look to the handful I’ve collected on the nearby table. “I found a few, but I doubt that Lord Ansem will have much more that the Master hasn’t already seen. I’ll have to consult with him about finding other worlds to source his books from.”

               “I see…”

               That tension has returned, it’s palpability growing in the silence. It makes concentration difficult as I try to assess the book in hand.

               Then Riku speaks again.

               “I’m sorry…about before.”

               Titling my head, I peek at the young man. He keeps is gaze aimed at the wall, a cocktail of negative emotion eeking out from him. My heart quivers yet my voice remains even.

               “It’s fine. I imagine that emotions run high fresh after war.”

               His hesitation tells me he thinks twice on his response. “Yeah…”

               Normally, I’d rather bask in the silence, but at the moment it’s suffocating. Something urges me to sympathize with the warrior.

               “How’s your friend? Find any leads?”

               I shouldn’t have asked.

               “No. Nothing’s changed.” A distracting hand runs over the pile of books.

               “Everyone’s working hard. I’m sure they’ll find a way to bring them back soon,” I say, attempting to backtrack.

               Though his eyes stare at the cover of the top book, I’m certain they see nothing. This trip has only pushed him closer to the edge of breaking. The Master should’ve never pushed me on him, exposing this vulnerability when I’m sure he’d rather hide away.

               “You still don’t remember anything, do you.” The pathetic hope in his voice pricks at my conscience.

               Meaning to be more apologetic than anything, I respond, “Sorry. I can’t help you.”

               “I…”

               What semblance of composure this man has been clinging to finally slips his grasp, revealing the full brunt of his agony.

               “I don’t need your help.”

               Without another word, Riku starts for the door he never reaches. Stumbling feet send his shoulder into the wall where he just slumps to the floor. The shudder that ripples through his body steals my breath away.

               “Riku?”

               Fingers dig into his arms. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t even know if any of this can be fixed but if I stop trying I might as well be worthless. But I’m tired and scared and weak.” The crack that rises in his voice nearly brings me to tears. “And I’m just so sick of being alone.”

               With a mind of their own, my feet close the gap. By his shoulder, I pull Riku back to face me, dropping to my knees before him. What follows I haven’t the slightest idea of where it came from.

               “Hey. Look. Look at me.” Gentle coaxing guides those teary eyes to me, tugging at my heartstrings.

               Whatever compels me to drop my mouth to his unlocks a burning desire within. Hands slip beneath his, giving his frantic fingers something else to hold. Salt-laced lips conform helplessly to my whim, allowing me to drag his mentality back towards stable ground. With this control, I pray to convey reassurance. In his chaotic, crumbling life, I hope in this moment to be the rock to which he can ground himself.

               Softly, the kiss breaks, gentle breaths ghosting between us. He still seems broken and weary, but not utterly hopeless anymore. Though I’m afraid he’s hoping for the impossible from me, I brush the hair from his face.

               I speak only loud enough for our own little seclusion.

               “You are not alone. I may not be them, but I’m here. And I’ll take every step with you, even if I have to drag you.” These words don’t feel like my own, but somehow I know this is right. “So be strong or be weak—be whatever you need to get through this—but don’t ever doubt that I’m with you. Okay?”

               Contemplation keeps him quiet but he does manage to nod.

               “Don’t you ever forget that.” A thumb brushes away another tear.

               Cautious hands slip behind my back, pulling me closer for Riku to hide his face against my shoulder. Taking his lead, I return the gesture, holding tight. His heartache slowly melts, relief rolling off him.

               I can’t explain this contentment seeping into my bones, but I think I needed this just as much as he did. Because for the first time since I woke up, I’ve finally found something familiar.

~~~~~

Nova’s Kingdom Hearts Masterlist

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

The story of how Kizakura-sensei recruited each student was really interesting. It was in the form of an audio drama, but it was more fulfilling than I had expected, and there was about the equivalent of two or three episodes of anime.

Gundham said he had about 40,000 demons under his command, but was that number mentioned anywhere else? There was also mention of a demon group called "108魔星 (Demonic Stars)", but I wasn't sure which animals were classified as such, so I'm curious.

There was a story that Ryota Mitarai made anime in his high school anime club, but he was so incredibly good that the other members asked him to leave the club because of his talent. (One member said it put pressure on them.) It was a sad story, but I could understand how he ended up making anime on his own.

I wondered how he found and recruited Imposter, but it made sense that Imposter approached Kizakura-sensei himself. (Given that he enrolled in Hope's Peak Academy of his own volition, I think it makes sense that he took the initiative to protect his classmates in the main story of DR2).

The exchanges between Leon and Kizakura-sensei were SO funny 😂😂 Awww, what a silly, cute boy. I have a lot to talk about this, so I'd like to draw something based on the story, even if it's just a doodle.

Sayaka's story was also great. The fact that she puts salt in her coffee is too shocking for words 😂 It was a story that really expressed her charm, where you couldn't tell if she was serious or just trying to make herself look cute. I was also surprised to learn that Kizakura-sensei has a daughter. (Maybe? It was just implied, so it was not clearly stated.)

It's also pretty crazy that Chihiro gave Alter Ego the hacking function from the beginning. When Chihiro introduces Alter Ego, Alter Ego hacks into the teacher information at Hope's Peak Academy and looks at Kizakura-sensei's profile and his bank withdrawal history without permission. Why does this dangerous invention of Chihiro's go unchecked...? 😂

The part where Toko misunderstands that Kizakura-sensei wants her to write a light novel was too funny. I'd like to draw a little doodle for that, too.

The episode about Celeste and gyoza was really great. I love the fact that she loves gyoza 🥺💕 I thought she might not like her hometown (since it's pretty rural), but my impression of her changed quite a bit when I learned that she participates in a ridiculous underground casino in her hometown (where they play gyoza Russian roulette). It was also interesting that she said she was worthy of Ultimate Lucky. Kizakura-sensei said that the Ultimate Lucky Student for this year had already been decided when he scouted Celeste, so the drawing for the Ultimate Lucky Student may be held quite early 🤔

Kazuichi drove a motorcycle after taking Kimura-senpai's medicine against travel sickness... (She is a very convenient person to think of stories. lol) Kazuichi's episode was interesting too, but it was relatively serious, maybe because the scriptwriter was different.

The performances of the voice actors were all wonderful, and the way in which the music and sound effects were added was very careful and of a very high quality. There are a few more stories I want to delve into, so hopefully I can write about them again sometime with some doodles...

[hazelnut-u-out]

New fic!

Once again, not as polished as I'd like, but I'm trying to just trust my work as-is and not overwork it, lol.

I had this silly idea of young Rick and Birdperson trying to proposition some candidates for a threesome, but having a horrible reputation in bed and getting rejected. I fluffed it out for fun a little bit, and it was a joy to write.

Hope you like it! Full text below cut, Ao3 link here!

'So, Sisyphus Walks into a Bar...'

3,087 Words | Mild NSFW (if you squint) | Light Angst

---

Rick took a deep breath, leaning forward and over the running water of the restroom sink. 

The 35-year-old looked himself over as he leisurely washed his hands. He looked… okay. The flickering overcast of yellow light did little to favor him, but what he took in wasn’t too shabby for not showering in 76 hours and fighting in a battle earlier that day. There were some smudges of dirt on his face and clothes, but nothing worse than some dried blood in his greasy hair. His cheeks were flushed with a mixture of drunkenness and heat. The slightly sweet scent of his body odor hit his numb nose as he turned his head to the side and inhaled.

Oh, well, he thought. In his experience, the regulars at this bar weren’t typically picky, the species as a whole even less so during the planet’s warm months that marked their mating season.

He ran his wet hands over his face in an attempt to cool down, not bothering to use the provided dryer and instead wiping them off on the seat of his dark jeans. He had tied his jacket around his waist. It’ll be fine.

Finally, Rick stretched his arms over his head as a new melody seeped past the bathroom door. 

‘Pers!’ he called, stepping to the side and leaning against the wall next to the mirror. 

‘Yes?’ His friend’s voice was a bit hoarse as it emanated from within the stall. 

‘Could you take any longer? We don’t have all week. We’re moving off planet in the morning to push the new border, in case you’ve forgotten!’ Rick said with a scoff. The former scientist reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes. Gingerly, he lit one up and brought it to his lips. 

‘I could probably take longer, yes,’ Birdperson responded in a dull tone. ‘I fail to see how that would help.’ 

Rick pressed his left palm between his eyebrows, pulling a long drag from the cigarette between his lips. The smoke warmed his throat and he let the relief that washed over him carry away his annoyance. He held the inhale for a while until it burned deep in his chest and exhaled slowly. 

Dropping his hand and shoving it in his pocket, he replied. ‘N–No, uh… That’s one of those sarcastic questions I was telling you about. It–It’s supposed to have a dry humor vibe to it. I was telling you to hurry up.’ 

Rick heard the electric ‘woosh’ sound of the toilet as Birdperson emerged from the stall, looking equally drunk and irritated. His cheeks were sullied and uncharacteristically rosy. His torso glimmered with sweat where it wasn’t decorated with caked blood, dust, or mud.

Birdperson’s brow hung low on his pointedly blank expression as he stumbled to the sink. ‘Does it not desaturate your ‘mysterious vibe’ to constantly explain your figurative language?’ He emphasized Rick’s own words with air quotes and a terrible impression. 

Rick rolled his eyes, taking another draw before blowing the smoke up to play in the cast of the ceiling light. He raised his voice a tad so BP could hear him over the running water. ‘First of all, you sound like a fucking frog. It’s not cute. Second of all, I wasn’t exactly planning to waste my time being a sarcasm tutor but, hey, the best friend market was pretty sparse.’ 

Birdperson huffed amusedly, turning to use the hand dryer at his left. ‘I do not care for being cute, and I understand sarcasm, Rick. I do not understand being mean.’ 

Rick blinked, ignoring BP’s smug expression as he turned to face him again. It burned him up inside to know that Pers knew he’d made a point good enough to stump him. He passed him the cigarette and crossed his arms instead of replying. 

Birdperson took a hit from the cigarette, and placed his hands on the sink, leaning forward. He exhaled the smoke into Rick’s face, and Rick could smell the cheap vodka they’d used to pregame on his breath. After the smoke had cleared a bit, his friend spoke. 

‘You think I’m your best friend?’ the birdman cooed, making his face into an exaggerated expression. He placed his taloned hands beneath his own chin, the smoke trailing up around his face, in a dramatic display of lovesickness. 

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Rick said, his cheeks growing impossibly hotter. ‘Don’t understand being mean, my ass.’ 

Birdperson let out a nearly evil cackle as he threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. ‘How was that for sarcasm, Sanchez?’ 

‘Let’s just go get laid, yeah?’ Rick huffed with a slight pout. 

BP nodded in agreement, giving his feathers a once-over in the mirror and brushing some stray clumps of dirt from his wings. ‘I smell like shit,’ Rick heard him mutter. When he finished his quick groom, he turned to Rick. ‘Last night in this shithole. We will probably never be back.’ 

Rick nodded, tapping his foot against the linoleum. 

‘So,’ Pers continued, rocking on his heels and looking to the side almost sheepishly. ‘Are we doing one more usual, or splitting up?’ BP looked at him expectantly. 

Rick fidgeted with the sleeve of his tattered shirt, pretending to consider the options. Shrugging, Rick replied after a short moment. ‘I mean, when in Rome…’ 

Pers relaxed, smiling a bit more naturally. ‘I still do not know where Rome is, but, ah… That means our usual, right?’ 

‘Y–Yeah.’ Rick stuttered, trying to level his voice. ‘Unless you wanted to split up? Which–Which is also chill, or whatever.’ 

‘No. I am already chill with the arrangement,’ Birdperson said, emphasizing the slang with a slight inflection. 

Rick nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and gesturing with his head for Birdperson to lead the way. Birdperson ran his hands over his chest in what resembled a display of excitement and the two men exited the bathroom. 

—

The bar's atmosphere was a slight step up from its humid restroom. The air still stuck to Rick’s skin like a thin balmy coating, only further accentuating his sweaty state. The dark, red-tinted wood gave the place a deep, warm feel. It was one of those places you’d see in an old advertisement for firewood, but there wasn’t a fireplace. Instead, there were blue-flamed lamps huddled in the corners, emanating a smokey scent that seeped into their surroundings. The visual cooled down the scene. There was an unimpressive crowd tonight, but a low buzz of chatter in alien languages still hummed along the ceiling. He’d taken up at the bar, his lean body curled around the edge of the surface and his bony ass digging into the squishy seat of the barstool. He tapped a lithe pinky finger on the rim of his glass, the ice clinking gently as he jounced his movements to the rhythm of the song overhead. 

The bartender was a sullen-looking Gromflomite, probably near the end of their lifespan. Their tarsi worked with machine-like precision as they clicked against the glass bottles they wiped down and poured from. Rick battled with distributing effort into the two last coherent desires he could identify in his drunken brain: watching the bartender’s shiny handiwork and getting his dick wet. 

Neither he nor Birdperson had gotten very lucky tonight. This was a bar of regulars, and the pair had hooked up with pretty much everyone there. He’d tried to chat up all three of the aliens at the bar already– all mature females they’d taken home before during the three-month stalemate– and had been rejected in tandem. 

Rick brought the package and Pers brought the bod. That was the arrangement! What could’ve gone wrong?

Rick pursed his lips in annoyance, turning to watch Pers get politely rejected by the last possible candidate. His disheartened friend headed his way. 

‘No luck,’ BP said with a dramatic sigh, plopping down ungracefully onto the stool to Rick’s left. 

‘Last time I was on Earth, swinging was still all the rage! I hardly expected space to be more conservative. Not–Not that we’re a couple,’ Rick replied, noticing as the bartender shot the pair an amused look. ‘You got a problem?’ 

The bug set the bottle they’d been holding on the bar and rested their arms on the surface, leaning in. ‘Are you serious? Every regular I’ve got’s been complaining about you two for weeks.’

Rick narrowed his eyes, scoffing. ‘With all due respect, buddy, if you’d’ve seen what we’re pa–packing–’ he threw his arm around Birdperson’s shoulders clumsily in a puffed-up display of comradery, ‘you wouldn’t complain. Nice joke, though.’

The two soldiers snorted, Rick passing Pers the last bit of his drink to finish off. 

The light glinted off of the bartender’s glassy eyes, giving the slight illusion of a human eye-roll. ‘You wanna know what I’ve heard?’ 

Pers gave the alien a small nod, finishing off the drink and shooting Rick a toothy grin. 

‘They say you guys proposition them for the time of their lives. Two young rebel stallions out in the middle of nowhere without a decent lay, you say. Then you two get so caught up in each other that you practically ignore them.’ Their mandibles twitched in amusement, a bit of drool glistening in the light of the lantern overhead as it dripped from their mouth. 

Rick went rigid, his smile disappearing. He looked at Birdperson, who looked a bit confused. Rick almost ignored the comment and laughed in the bug’s face after having a moment to process the situation, but then he heard the trio he’d spoken to earlier giggle amongst themselves. He shot one of them an inquisitive look, raising his brow and gesturing with an outstretched thumb at the Gromflomite in front of him. She simply shrugged apologetically and turned to continue laughing with her friends. 

BP finally seemed to understand what they’d implied, standing up, puffing out his broad chest, and unfurling his wingspan. Rick restrained himself from looking. He always found the defense mechanism rather fascinating. It did make him look bigger. 

Rick reached out and tugged on his friend’s wing. ‘It’s not worth it,’ he slurred. ‘Let’s just go.’ 

Birdperson looked shocked but folded his wings back in hesitation. ‘What? You are just going to let them say that?’ 

Rick thought for a second, looking back over to the group of females. He considered letting Pers tear the tender apart. Maybe he could convince himself no one knew what they were talking about. 

Suddenly, someone shouted from across the room, snapping Rick out of his thoughts. ‘Calm your boyfriend down, Rick!’ It was another female. Rick recognized her voice, but he wasn’t sure from where. 

Shit, he thought. He brought his other hand up to his face and cringed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

‘Well?!’ Birdperson squawked impatiently, waiting for Rick’s permission. Rick let go of his wing. 

‘I don’t think they’re lying,’ Rick mumbled, taking a few steps towards the door. He paused when he realized his friend wasn’t moving. 

‘What?’ BP said exasperatedly. ‘I can’t hear you over the music.’ 

‘I said,’ Rick shouted, turning to poke at his companion's chest. ‘They’re telling the truth!’ 

Laughter erupted around the establishment. 

Rick’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment as Birdperson’s plume expanded along the top of his head. His face went through a range of emotions– from confused, to shocked, to thoughtful, and finally back to stoic. The bird man gave Rick a tight nod, the only clue of the events in his demeanor the ruffle of his feathers.  

Rick turned, head down, and stalked out of the establishment. His combat boots smacked loudly against the wooden floor as Pers followed him. 

‘Drinks on the house, boys!’ The bartender called out sardonically. Jeers narrated their walk of shame until the cool air enveloped them and the laughter muffled behind the smack of the door. 

They walked in silence for a while before Birdperson finally spoke up. ‘Can we… Uh… Where are we going?’ 

Rick stopped, turning and taking in their surroundings. He’d kind of zoned out for a while, just walking off steam. 

The pair stood on an abandoned street, deteriorating foreign architecture surrounding them on both sides. Rick leaned against the stone wall next to him, shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I dunno.’ He admitted. 

‘Rick…’ Birdperson started, looking to the side and trailing off. Rick let the silence sit, not bothering enough to fill it. ‘You know it is not a romantic thing for me, right?’ 

‘Yeah, man,’ Rick said, nonchalantly. He leaned his head back, studying the star pattern mindlessly. ‘I’ve heard all about how casual it is for your species. I’m not stupid.’ 

‘Cool…’ Birdperson said, tapping his thighs with his hands. ‘So…’ 

Rick bit back the urge to either punch or kiss him. He couldn’t tell. 

‘So?’ Rick asked, pushing all of the indifference he didn’t have into his tone. 

‘I mean,’ Birdperson moved forward, bracing one hand on the wall next to Rick’s head. Rick gasped, going rigid as his best friend demanded his attention from the stars. ‘I know it has never been just you and I, but… I see no reason it cannot.’ Seemingly sensing Rick’s hesitation, Birdperson brought a taloned finger up to brush a strand of Rick’s filthy hair behind his ear. ‘Just this once?’ 

Rick thought about the offer. It was different from their usual arrangement. He’d been telling himself the thirds were there to appeal to BP’s annoyingly persistent heterosexuality, but he’d obviously been wrong. Just how casual was sex to his people? Was it usually so… communal? 

Rick thought briefly of Squanchy. Had he been propositioned before? Squanchy would take that up in a heartbeat, but surely Pers would complain of the hairballs…

‘Yeah, oka–’ Rick could barely give his assent before Birdperson was on him, the heady scent of liquor greeting him as his companion kissed him hungrily. 

It took Rick a moment to react, not realizing what was happening. All of those nights of looking into Birdperson’s eyes, of reaching for his hands, of tasting him on a cigarette after sex, and he never could have thought this would happen. At least, not so needily. 

At last, Rick pulled his hands from his pockets, kissing back eagerly and sliding his hands up under the other man’s wings. Birdperson let out a small animalistic noise, wrapping his left arm around Rick’s slender waist and pulling him in close. Rick curved the tips of his fingers, gently digging into the skin at the junction of his wings and back, and smiled as BP pulled away, gasping and arching his back. 

‘I pay attention,’ he said breathlessly. 

Birdperson’s lips glistened in the starlight, the silence of the street filled with small pants and gasps. 

‘Too much attention,’ Birdperson quipped. ‘You are a tease, Sanchez,’ he whispered lowly, leaning down to plant a chaste, restrained kiss on Rick’s jaw. Rick pushed his nails in harder, feeling talons dig into his side. 

‘How so?’ Rick feigned innocence, suddenly aware of how cold it was on this planet after dark, nuzzling further into his taller companion. 

‘I cannot have you here,’ Birdperson said, straightening and taking a few steps back. Rick pouted, his arms falling to his sides. ‘Your body temperature is too low.’ 

‘You can just keep me warm?’ Rick offered, stepping forward. Birdperson took another step back, smirking down at him. 

‘I am not chancing you getting sick. You are my best soldier.’

‘You’re like Sisyphus with this war shit,’ Rick said, straightening out his shirt and turning to walk. He gestured for Pers to walk back to camp with him. 

‘And you are not?’ Birdperson laughed, picking up a leisurely stride behind him. 

‘Either keep up with my queer walking speed or admit you’re the tease,’ Rick groaned, kicking up dust and snagging BP’s hand to drag him towards their destination faster. ‘Your boulder is war. Mine is…’ Rick thought. He couldn’t exactly say, ‘You.’ and just go about their casual hookup. ‘I dunno… Myself?’ 

‘Hmmm… So you are destined to fight yourself forever?’ Pers asked, giggling and letting out a little hiccup. 

‘More like I’m always just out of reach,’ Rick swallowed. He didn’t need to think of this right now. Think hornier thoughts, dammit, He mentally chided himself. 

‘Seems to me like you are within reach,’ BP said playfully, reaching up and smacking Rick’s ass. Rick’s eyes went wide. He threw Pers a dirty look over his shoulder, pulling on his hand even harder. ‘Seriously, though,’ his friend continued. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘I guess…’ Rick trailed off, thinking. ‘Okay, I’m going to say this, and then we’re done with the sad sack shit, alright? We’re saving the rest of the philosophy stuff for pillow-talk.’ 

‘Deal,’ Birdperson agreed, squeezing Rick’s hand.

He’d finally started to catch up, so Rick met his gaze as he spoke. 

‘I get scared that, one of these days, there’s going to be two versions of me people remember.’ Rick searched BP’s face for understanding. It hadn’t clicked yet, so he continued. ‘You know how that shit happens when you’re older, right? I dunno. Maybe it–it’s a human thing or something. People sort of have these ideas of each other that get set in stone. I worry people might not know me when I’m old– if I get old. What if I'm a man capable of love and a man so vile they despise him? I know what that’s like… To miss someone you hate.’

Birdperson’s brow furrowed. Rick thought he might be sick waiting for his response. Had he overshared? Ruined the moment? 

They were at camp now, the village of tents just a few paces ahead of them. A couple still had their lanterns on, giving off a ghostly translucent glow into the bitter night as the two men walked between the rows. Finally, BP smiled at him. He pulled him close, Rick’s back to BP’s tent only a few feet away. ‘I could never hate you.’ 

Rick could feel his heart in his ears. Birdperson’s chest was hot against the fabric of his shirt. He ran his cold hands over his partner’s filthy chest, inhaling the scent of stale sweat in the cold. ‘I think you could…’ Rick smirked, pushing his hands back around to the base of the other man’s wings. 

‘Let’s find out.’ 

[pantoneyoongi]

the sun & the stars | kth | 04

title ; the sun & the stars pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 6k

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

description ; 

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then. 

it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention. 

sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else. 

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, a lot of it, fluff, mentions of absent parents and financial instability, insecurity, brief mentions of infidelity, arguing, fun fact i wrote this entire fic based almost entirely off one (1) scene in this chapter lol, please give my girl sun a hug after this is over thank u

you’re not sure if the luck counts as good or bad, but both you and sky finish your finals earlier than most of the other students do. your finals stack up back to back, leaving you a couple extra days to breathe easy after. so while jimin and taehyung are still frantically cramming and testing, you crash at sky’s apartment for a day after jinyoung convinces you to take a day off before you actually collapse at the restaurant. 

slouched on her couch and half-awake is when sky decides to ask you. you almost topple off the couch, startled awake. “come again?” 

“do you want to meet namjoon?” 

you hesitate. “are you… official, or something?” 

sky shakes her head. “not yet. but i mean, you know everyone i know, and… i just thought…” she trails off, but you know what she means. namjoon is an anomaly compared to sky’s other friends. most of her friends are your friends. 

you sit up on the couch, trying to look nonchalant knowing full well you are anything but. “feels like i’m the parent meeting the new boyfriend.” 

sky cracks a grin. “feel free to chew him out.” 

you narrow your eyes at her playfully. “oh, i will.” 

her eyes light up with amusement. “i expect nothing less.” 

sky looks happy; it’s easy to tell by the way she can’t help smiling. her excitement is subtle but palpable, and you try to reciprocate, but your heart feels weighty in your chest, and you’re struggling to keep it held up. you make an acknowledging noise when sky jumps up to make food for the two of you, watching her flit about the kitchen, light on her feet. 

you and sky tend to communicate less in words and more in implied feelings and actions. you know it’s not the best way to communicate - it’s what landed the two of you in trouble the last time - but even despite having what jinyoung calls “half a conversation, dammit, sun,” you can tell the tension has faded. sky looks like she feels more comfortable in her own skin, like it’s a relief not to be holding onto a secret anymore. 

your shoulders relax a little, watching her. even if your heart feels like a traitor in your own chest, the majority part of you feels relief, too. that sky’s happy, that she found someone who won’t love her in halves. it’s a testament to namjoon’s sincerity, that he’s able to step past sky’s basic levels of kindness, becoming part of her life. even without your protectiveness, sky’s circle of friends is deeply exclusive, just from sky’s shy and introverted nature. 

she smiles at you from the kitchen, and you smile back. for her, you shove down the insecurities, push yourself off the couch to go wreak havoc in her perfectly organized kitchen, and hope that no matter what position you hold in or outside of sky’s life, that she’ll always have someone who makes her laugh as loudly as she does now. 

.

.

.

“i need a ten year nap,” jimin says into your countertops, voice muffled from his face being smushed into it. his arms dangle lifelessly at his sides, back arched from the way he’s sitting in the chair. 

you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “go take a nap at your place then. stop bothering me at mine.” 

jimin lifts his head, and you snicker at the red mark that’s left on his forehead. “i feel like you favor taehyung over me,” he complains. “you feed him once a week, you’re nice to him, and what do i get? kicked out of your apartment in less than ten minutes.” he jabs a finger in your direction. “this is blatant favoritism.” 

you smile sympathetically at him, and he makes a disgusted face at the mocking saccharine look. you even pout a little. “are you mad everyone likes taehyungie better than you, jiminie?” 

“you - you know what?” jimin looks like he’s going to be ill. “don’t ever use that voice on me again. never mind. you can have her,” jimin hops off the chair and goes to faceplant into your couch instead, leaving behind a bemused taehyung in the kitchen with you. you share a look with the younger, eyebrows flicking up as you smirk in amusement. 

taehyung just shakes his head, nursing his glass of water. he looks exhausted too, but he’s still poring over his notes, with two exams left before the week is over. 

you whip up a simple fried rice for the boys, setting a bowl in front of taehyung before going over to nudge jimin with your foot. “get up, freeloader. go eat.” 

jimin pathetically lifts his head from the couch cushion. “leave me here to die. at least if i die, my classmates will get automatic a’s.” 

you smack him against the head. “get up, you overdramatic gremlin. we all know you’re acing all your classes anyway.” 

jimin grins. you have half a mind to drag him up by his ear, but that would go against your policy of putting minimal effort in when it comes to men. 

eventually the two of you join taehyung at the kitchen counter, though taehyung hasn’t even touched his food, still buried in his notes. you tap your fingers against his notebook. “hey. eat.” 

he looks up slowly, like his brain and body are out of sync. you want to run your hand through his hair, smooth it back and away from his forehead, take away that tired look on his face. you soften, pushing the bowl closer to him. “you need to eat to be able to study, tae.” 

quietly, he nods, relenting and putting his books away. jimin looks between the two of you, offended by the blatant difference in treatment, but he keeps his mouth shut at the look you throw him. you watch them both affectionately though, chin propped against your hand. 

when they both look like they have a little more life in them, you start up conversation. “hey, are either of you coming to the dinner with sky and namjoon or is that just me?” 

“there’s a dinner?” jimin says at the same time as taehyung shaking his head, saying, “i have an exam that night.” 

you wince. “you have the worst finals schedule. that’s literally the last slot of finals.” 

taehyung groans a little, burying his face in his hands. “please don’t remind me.” 

you huff out a laugh, giving in and patting him on the head, ruffling his hair a little. “i’m sure you’ll do just fine.” 

“is no one gonna explain to me the meet the namjoon thing?” jimin interjects, and you almost instinctively flick him on the forehead, but cut him some slack and don’t. you shrug at him instead. 

“sky wanted me to meet namjoon this friday before everyone goes back for winter break. guess it’s just a ‘meet the bestie’ thing since she didn’t invite anyone else.” 

jimin hums thoughtfully, thumb rubbing at his chin. “well,” he finally says. “if he can pass your standards, then he’ll probably pass mine.” 

you deadpan. “what am i, like the final boss or something?” 

jimin snaps his fingers. “exactly.” 

you can’t even argue with him. he’s probably right. you settle for pretending to take his food away, jimin sputtering out nonsense to steal it back from you, scraping rice into his mouth as fast as he can while you laugh, eyes crinkling happily. 

.

.

.

the dinner with namjoon makes you more nervous than you let on. you’re meeting sky and namjoon somewhere a little ways off campus, within walking distance. it’s a relatively known and popular ramen spot, with a cozy interior, booths lined up against windows and tables neatly lined in the middle otherwise. 

you wish taehyung was coming. but seeing as taehyung has one last final to take, and most of campus, including namjoon, is leaving for winter break tomorrow, that leaves just you for this dinner, sky mentioning in the group chat that she’ll introduce him to the broader group some other time. your palms sweat and you wipe them against your jeans, dragging your hands against the material, trying to find your grounding. 

you stand outside the restaurant, counting numbers backwards. you remind yourself that this is sky, and someone important to sky, and that means you need to find the right balance between making sure he won’t hurt her, and making sure you don’t scare him off. 

with a deep breath, you enter the restaurant, scanning the room until you spot sky and namjoon at a booth, off to the right. a waiter comes up to you but you shake your head politely and gesture towards your friend, and he steps out of your way so you can make your way to them. 

sky and namjoon sit opposite each other, sky sliding in to make room for you. you offer her a smile and try to extend it to namjoon as well, but you’re you and you’ve always had issues smiling at people you don’t know well. he takes it all in stride, offering that dimpled smile he’d given you the last time you’d seen him, at the library. 

he really does give off good vibes. you almost feel bad about your half-assed smile. 

sky leans towards you, and she’s practically vibrating in her seat, though you can’t tell if it’s because she’s happy or nervous. probably both, honestly. “this is sun,” she introduces, and that’s how the night starts, with her exchanging your names and namjoon’s kind eyes so obviously captivated by her, but still finding time to shift to you, friendly and open. he’s so effortlessly inviting that you find your defenses lowering, even if you let sky and namjoon carry most of the conversation, watching the way they interact, the shy grins sky tries to hide, and the affection pouring out of namjoon whenever he looks at her. 

you smile. a real one, and even when namjoon catches it and matches you, you keep it. 

.

.

.

you slide out of the booth when sky mentions she needs to use the restroom, letting her slip past you while you sit back down. sky glances back but you give her a look promising that you’ll behave yourself and she smiles and heads off, to the bathrooms in the back. 

you return your gaze to the table, eyes flicking up to meet namjoon’s. now it’s just the two of you, and you regard him carefully. he doesn’t shy away from the way you assess him, like he’d been expecting it, especially now that sky isn’t here to serve as a buffer. 

the silence passes, like he knows better than to say anything while you gauge whether he’s worth sky’s time. he doesn’t even seem to mind. 

you relax against the booth. “seems like you know me.” 

he rubs the back of his head. “sky talks about you a lot.” 

“did she tell you i’d threaten you?” you say it with a smirk, eyes glinting. 

namjoon gives a small smile. “she said it was a possibility.” 

you won’t admit it yet, but you like namjoon. he seems honest and casual, and there’s something reassuring about the way he cares for your friend. he doesn’t look scared of you, nor does he seem amused by the possibility of your five-foot-nothing ass trying to beat his. he regards you with respect - like he already knows how much you mean to sky. 

your smirk eases into a smile, eyes growing gentler. “i won’t,” you say. “i don’t think a threat would be particularly effective. what i’ll tell you instead, is that she’s important to me. she’s the most important person in my life. and i regret it, but i haven’t always been able to protect her like i should have.” 

you lean forward slightly, smile fading, and while your expression hardens, your voice remains soft. “i don’t plan on having any more regrets like that, do you understand?” 

something about the way your voice stays quiet, firm, how there’s no malice strewn into the words, only a simple promise, is what freezes namjoon in place. it’s not technically a threat, but the way you look at him holds a guarantee that if he fucks up, he’s not getting any second chances. the person sitting in front of him would do anything for sky. you, without hesitation, would commit a crime for her if she asked you to. take the fall for something she’d done if you needed to. you would do anything if it meant protecting sky. 

“understood,” namjoon’s voice comes as a low murmur of confirmation. you know he hears you loud and clear, so you straighten, smile returning. 

“good.” your eyes drift over to the window. despite being located right next to campus, the restaurant has a decent view of more than just buildings and parking lots, overseeing a small field. “you know why we call her sky, right? ‘cause,” you gesture outside, where you can see the sky turning the different shades of blue directly post-sunset, the beautiful hues of cerulean, cobalt, indigo. your voice grows nostalgic. “she’s my whole sky. the only thing that encompasses every part of the world.” your eyes slide back to him, and he meets your gaze. “take care of her. please.” 

it’s a request. one you’ve never asked of anybody, because sky doesn’t need someone to take care of her, not when she has you on her side. but she deserves to have someone worry about her, bring her lunches, remind her that she’s special and worth loving, out loud, with their whole chest. the way namjoon stares back at you, you know he can give that to her. he can treat her like she’s his whole world. 

he smiles, and nods. without words, you know he’s made the same promise you made when you were five years old. 

when sky returns, neither you nor namjoon give any indication of the conversation you’ve just held. you’re all smiles and light banter, and when sky looks to you, silently hoping for your approval, you beam right back at her, the way you always have. 

because it’s sky. for sky, you would do anything. 

.

.

.

it’s when you part for the night that you break. you head back towards your dorm, after five solid minutes of convincing sky that you don’t need or want an escort. but halfway back and your knees give out on you, and you drop into a crouch in the middle of the sidewalk. you hang your head and try to breathe evenly, to smooth out the shaky way you inhale and exhale. 

it shouldn’t feel like this. you should be happy for sky - you are - but you’re so fucking selfish, you’re so fucking scared, the ugliest parts of you sneaking behind your back to strangle you, remind you of who you are. 

to everyone else, sky’s the one who needs you. sky, who is too nice to say no most of the time, who is gentle in everything she does, who has always been the one you’ve protected. sky’s quiet, demure nature gets taken too often as compliance. as someone who can be bent to anyone’s will. 

but that’s not true. you know that. sky’s just simple and patient; she doesn’t mind much. she goes with the flow, content to follow after you, let you take the lead. 

but she doesn’t need you. she never has. 

you press your hand firm against your mouth to muffle the cry that threatens to slip out, eyes squeezing shut. no. no. you’re not going to be upset about this. you’re not going to be selfish about this. 

fuck. 

.

.

.

everyone looking from the outside in says you’re the strong one. 

you and sky sit at distinct parallels, impossible to intersect. on one hand there’s you, cold, hard, and impassive. you don’t know how your reputation spun wildly out of control, but people dodge you like you’re poison. they fear what you could do, even if they don’t know what you would do. 

on the other hand there’s sky, elegant, trusting, and caring. she’s a bit shy, much quieter than most others, but she’s sweet, and people like that. she embodies the definition of a good girl, with off-the-charts intelligence to top it off. she’s your best friend. you’d protect her with your life. everyone knows it. you’re her personal guard dog. 

but the truth is, she’s not the one who needs protecting. you’re the one that’s fragile, quick to come apart. one nudge and everything around you will crumble, scatter in the wind and you’ll be left with nothing. they say sky needs you, but it’s you who needs her. 

she’s your safe place. she makes you feel wanted. you don’t know anyone else like her, who makes you feel like there’s something worth fighting for. because what else are you going to do? if not to protect sky, what else are you worth? 

not much, apparently. after all, you’re the one who hurt her the most. 

you’ll never shake the self-inflicted blame for it. for falling for seokjin and not realizing the entire time that sky also had feelings for him. that he was playing the field, holding your hand while sweet-talking sky, keeping her his secret, leaving her with the guilt of having feelings for her best friend’s boyfriend. you were blind to all of it, rose-colored glasses fogging what was right in front of you. 

they can say all they want about, it’s seokjin who hurt her, it’s seokjin who shouldn’t have done that, but even if you’re not the mastermind, you’re the accomplice. you know that because of you, sky experienced heartbreak before she could experience love. 

the world sky existed in was perfect, until you fractured it. 

you did everything to patch it back up. return to sky the picture-perfect she used to have, before you weaseled your way into it, selfishly begging to be a part of it. to have even an ounce of what normalcy might feel like. but even in doing so you couldn’t bear to give it up. you need sky. 

nobody understands that. you need sky, but she doesn’t need you. least of all now that she has namjoon. 

.

.

.

you don’t really like school breaks. winter and summer breaks are longer than spring break, which means you can go back to your hometown. you usually spend it working most days, but being home also means unlocking your door to an unlit room, hardly any food in the fridge and your parents never there. 

it’s a little better now that you’re older, and can stay up later. you catch them when they get home at midnight, weary eyes and tired smiles. they hug you and you feel like a child again, melting into your mother’s embrace that you’ve missed so much. but they’re too tired to spend much time with you, and most mornings, either you’re gone before they wake up, or they’re gone before you wake up. 

you know they love you, and that’s why they work so hard to provide for you. but you really miss them sometimes. you missed them in elementary school, when they didn’t show up to see your science fair project. you missed them in middle school, when they couldn’t be there to see your artwork displayed for the night. you missed them in high school, when they weren’t amongst the proud parents watching their kids walk across the stage for graduation. 

your pictures are scattered throughout the house, though. your science fair participation ribbon is tacked to the fridge, your artwork framed on the wall. your high school diploma is kept displayed on a dresser in your parents’ room, a reminder of what you accomplished that they never got a chance to. and when you graduate college next semester - you know they won’t be able to attend your graduation ceremony then, either, but they’ll leave a picture frame out for you to place your university diploma into, and a slice of cake will sit in the fridge as their way of celebrating with you, too. 

you know better than to believe you aren’t loved. but you also don’t really know your parents at all, just know that they have sacrificed everything to make sure you could have a better life than them. that includes being there for you in all the little moments, and all the grand ones, too. 

it’s a lot of pressure. they give up every waking hour, bending over backwards to pay for your future. but the child in you cries while you sit under a single light in the kitchen at a table meant for a family and you’re utterly alone. 

coming home means a lot of things. it means comfort, in the form of your parents arriving in the middle of the night, getting to see them even if it’s brief. it also means sitting alone with your own thoughts, forced to confront the parts of you that you can escape when you’re away at university. 

you’ve always known what you’re afraid of. it’s why you put up such a big front, whether it’s the cold and calculating way you treat strangers, or the bright and adoring way you love your friends. 

you’re afraid of being alone. you’d think after years of it, you’d find the time to get used to it, but you never have. you don’t want to be alone. you want someone at your important events and life milestones and even for the little stupid things that don’t matter and can easily be forgotten. you want someone there for all of it. 

that’s sky. when you had your science fair, sky’s parents stopped by your booth for a full twenty minutes, fascinated by everything you had displayed. sky was never part of the art exhibition, but she and her parents and taehyung all showed up, taking pictures and ooh-ing and ahh-ing over your mediocre middle school artwork. and when your parents couldn’t attend graduation, sky’s family drove you there, cheering as loudly for you as they did for her. 

sky’s there for everything. she listens to everything you have to say, no matter how mindless or menial. she remembers most of it, too, even better than you do - can recant stories that you don’t even recall telling her in the first place. if you love sky fiercely, defensively, sky loves you quietly, peacefully. 

what you’re afraid of is that sky will find her happily ever after, and it won’t include you. that the family you forced your way into doesn’t actually want you, and you’ll go back to your empty house and your dinners alone and the child in you will peer out across the street and wonder again what it’s like to have a family that can afford to be home. with you. that you’ll have to once again get used to an absent family, with no one to go running to. 

but you can’t tell her that. you can’t tell her, or taehyung, or even jimin. they’ve already shown you so much love. given you so much more than you deserve. you can’t beg them to stay if they don’t want to. 

you stare out the window. when it’s winter, it gets darker earlier, and all you can see is black. 

lonely, lonely, lonely. 

.

.

.

sky is pacing. 

sky doesn’t pace. sky generally sits still, in fact, so still that sometimes jimin will pretend to double check if she’s still breathing. taehyung’s eyes follow his sister back and forth and back and forth as she crosses the length of the room over and over again. 

“you okay?” taehyung ventures, after sky’s doubled back for god knows how many times now. sky pauses, head turning so slowly, she could give a slowly deteriorating animatronic a run for their money. taehyung makes a face. “sky.” 

she blinks at him. “something’s wrong.” 

he raises his eyebrows. yes. something is wrong, but sky doesn’t usually say it out loud. both you and sky have this in common: when things go south, you hide. 

taehyung noticed it a week ago, when the first stop you made since coming home wasn’t his house, but yours. you actually haven’t even been here since winter break started, and this is usually the place you come to lie down on the floor and complain about your creaky old joints. your messages in the group chat have been dwindling further and further, and you’ve canceled on group invites, even the ones that include yoongi and hoseok, who you haven’t seen in an entire semester. you cite work as an excuse, even though you normally would’ve found a way to make time for them regardless. 

sky looks stressed. “sun hasn’t come over.” 

taehyung chews on his lower lip. he’s not really sure what to say. taehyung has gone looking for you, of course, but he keeps missing his chances at actually seeing you. he’s considered just walking over to your place, but when you get like this, there’s the distinct possibility that you’ll just pretend no one’s home, which you’ve done before. 

sky resumes her pacing, and taehyung lets her. he wishes he had answers, solutions, anything - but the best he’s got is an attempt to get to you before you can step foot into your house. the problem is your schedule is not exactly consistent, and somehow you manage to sneak back into your house in the precise moments when taehyung isn’t creepily staring out his window trying to catch you before you head in. 

he hates when you get like this. hates that when you’re hurting, or insecure, you don’t come to him. or sky, jimin, yoongi, hoseok, someone. you draw into yourself instead, refusing to reach out. you lock yourself out, and taehyung’s banging on every door trying to find the room you’ve hidden yourself in. he’s looking for you in corners and around bends and in nooks and crannies, trying to figure out where you’ve hidden yourself this time around, because he cares about you. he worries about you. he knows he might not know you the best, but god, he wants to. but you won’t let him. 

it aches, to see you pull into yourself. to watch you work yourself to the bone, until you’re so tired you could collapse. yet you say nothing of it. neither the work nor the feelings that smother you; you keep all of it sealed tight under lock and key. the lock is shaped with your blinding smile and taehyung has spent years trying to find the goddamn key. 

he hates that you always tell him you’re fine. that you always tell him not to worry. that your smile is just convincing enough that he can’t argue, can’t push hard enough for you to waver and cave, confess what he knows is true. 

he can see how much you’re hurting, and you still won’t let him in. 

.

.

.

you honestly wondered how long you could keep this up. it’s not like you can call on yoongi this time to help you dodge sky and taehyung, considering he’s been blowing up your phone trying to pry an answer out of you. yoongi’s a little better at reading people than the rest of your hometown friends, and the fact that you haven’t shown face to him or hoseok yet is a little too telling for him. 

you opt for just ignoring his messages lately instead. 

(note: yoongi is not amused by this.) 

your luck runs out on you, naturally, on a day that you are more exhausted than usual. your shift ran over and you were definitely a hazard on the road driving home. you genuinely consider taking a nap in your car before heading in, except it’s fucking cold and there’s no way you’re leaving your car on to burn gas just so you don’t have to physically move. 

that’s how taehyung catches you. he’s sitting on the curb outside his house and when you finally manage to drag yourself out of your car, he stands, catching you off guard. 

“you’re home late,” he comments casually, but the way his brows knit tight together gives away his worry. you shrug. 

“long day.” 

you step towards your house, and he doesn’t stop you, just follows behind. “sun.” 

you’re so tired. you lower your head while your back is still facing him, trying not to be agitated by his presence. but you just want to lay down. you just want to take a shower and pass the fuck out. you don’t want to face your demons, and you definitely don’t want to face them in the form of a conversation led by kim taehyung. 

with a deep inhale, you turn to face him. “yeah, tae?” 

there it is. that look you keep trying to avoid, pretty brown eyes revealing all his emotions, because unlike you, taehyung isn’t scared of them. all his concern, his care, everything he’s wondering about you is laid open on his face, but if he’s not asking them out loud, then you’re definitely not answering them. 

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip nervously, and he struggles a little with what he wants to say. you wait, as patiently as you can, and briefly ponder whether he can see your eyebags actively getting worse by the minute or if you’re just tired enough to feel like they are. 

when he continues to say nothing, you rub your forehead and scrunch your face a bit. “taehyung, i-” 

“wait,” it comes out a little desperate, and he flounders a little, which is unlike him. he breathes out a steady breath. “i…” his eyes fall to the scarf looped around your neck. you wear it every day now, cradled by its warmth and familiar scent. “was just… looking for my scarf.” 

it’s an excuse to keep you here and you know it. but it still takes you aback, face contorting into a frown almost immediately, and you can see the regret on taehyung’s face just as instantly. your hand comes up to grasp at it, but you don’t move to take it off, instead clutching it a little too tightly. 

it doesn’t belong to you. it’s taehyung’s. he’s asking for it back. 

he’s starting to panic, but you don’t really notice it so much as the rush in your ears. you hold onto it, entire body tense, like you’re geared to run any second now just to keep it with you another day. 

“shit. wait. that’s not - you can keep the scarf, sun, that’s not really what i came for. i promise. i didn’t - you can keep it. please keep it. i just -” he scrubs at his face, frustrated, shaking his head, clearing it. when he lowers his hands, he looks calmer, adjusted, but there’s still too much in the way he looks at you for you to bear. 

“sun,” he starts again, gentler this time. “i’m just worried about you. we’re all worried about you. you’re working so much, and you come home so late, and you look so tired. i know you think we don’t notice, but we do, and - you don’t have to work so hard, sun.” 

anything else he says is lost after that. you don’t have to work so hard, sun. your head spins, everything sounds muffled, and every emotion you’ve tamped down shoots straight through you, hard and fast. 

“do not fucking talk to me about working hard, taehyung,” your voice comes out like steel, and whatever he was in the middle of saying cuts short, taehyung startled into silence. you look at him with borderline disdain, scoffing. “i-” you shut your eyes, trying to calm your temper. but the waves keep rising and if you don’t want to say something you’ll regret, you need to leave. “i’m going home, taehyung. you should too.” 

you turn around. you don’t want to have this conversation. you don’t want taehyung’s worry and you don’t want anyone else’s, either. you don’t do well with confrontation, you don’t do well with letting people in, and you don’t do well with people making empty promises telling you that you can rely on them. 

people like sky and taehyung, live their lives so comfortably. in every moment, everything they say and do, they make it so abundantly clear that they were loved to the fullest as kids, and continue to be loved. that their family had the ability to shield them instead of needing them to grow up too fast, like you did. it makes you resentful, sometimes. you hate that part of you the most. 

but the anger is so much easier to manage than the hurt. the anger is so much easier to feel than the jealousy. 

“sun-” 

“what?” you whirl around at his voice, voice so fierce he almost takes a step back. “what, taehyung. what do you want?” 

you’ve never looked at him like this before. you’ve never let the smile slip from your face. taehyung’s part of your inner circle, he’s always had the privilege of seeing your free laughter, be on the receiving end of your playful jibes. he gets to see you without restraints, without guards. but now you glare at him like you don’t even know him, like he hasn’t been there for almost every step of your life. 

except he hasn’t. he only knows that side of you, the side that’s bright, content, the side that lives to please. he’s gotten glimpses of the version of you that’s exhausted, the version you kept so neatly tucked away in dark houses and latchkeys. but never really because you chose to let him witness what it means to be you behind your brilliant smiles and easy-going jokes. the best he has to see that side of you are the rumors that swirl and follow you around. 

when he stays silent, you advance towards him. “what do you know, taehyung? be fucking for real. what do you really know? you live the definition of a white picket fence family, you have everything. do you even realize what you grew up with? your - your fucking - packed lunches and juice boxes and 6:30pm dinners and-” your hands wave around, gesturing to nothing, and taehyung doesn’t think it even hits you that you’re crying by now, tears welling helplessly in your eyes as you go, “all the times someone was there to pick you up at the bus stop, or make you breakfast in the morning, take care of you when you were sick, taehyung - you have no fucking idea! you don’t know what it’s like! to be scared in your own house because no one’s home to protect you, to be lonely in a place you’re supposed to call home, to know that every decision you make, everything you do, it has to be worth something - i don’t have to work so hard? i have no fucking choice, taehyung, so tell me what the fuck it is you really think you know, because you don’t!” 

you end in an explosion, breathless, in tears, shaking. that’s when the recognition settles into your features, trembling hands lifting to wipe at your tears, scrub them away. it feels hard to breathe, chest tight, and your head lowers, eyes growing distant as the fight starts to leave you. the exhaustion returns, draining all the anger out of you. 

you stare at some aimless spot on the ground, tired. “you don’t know,” you repeat, voice almost inaudible. your eyes slowly lift to his, and there it is - your defense mechanism, ruined; you give him a broken smile. “i never wanted you to.” 

the way you say it is heartbreaking. he can see something shatter in your eyes. his lips part but the words fail to come, feeling all of your anger and grief and hurt all at once. he’s never seen it as plainly as he does now, written all over your face. you look away, and your smile falls, useless, now. 

and then you’re gone. you trudge back into your house, and by the time taehyung figures out how to move again, it’s too late. your front door is closed and locked, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. 

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

[dufrau]

find the word!

tagged by @lavenderstobins. thanks for the tag i havent written anything in like a week maybe this will help lol

rules: search your WIPs for the words you're given and share the extract they're from.

my words: laugh, throat, blue, care, eyebrow and friend.

Laugh - from phonance smut

"You're gonna have to get used to the cold if you're moving to a shack in the woods."

"Well I was kind of counting on you to help keep me warm but I guess I'll just need to chop more firewood instead," Nancy couldn't stop herself from saying.

"What the fuck, Nancy?" Robin asked. She laughed a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-" She didn't know how to finish that sentence. She knew how she wanted to finish it, but she didn't know how she should. Or if she should at all. She thought she might lose her mind if she didn't. "It was warm out the last time we hung out."

Throat - from ronance train tracks 5+1

Nancy was laughing now for real and Robin wasn't sure she'd ever heard that before. It was a little bit cute, actually. It was a little bit magical. She didn't really want it to stop.

"And have you seen him eat? He's like an animal. No table manners. Crumbs everywhere. Ketchup," Robin kept going, addicted to the little smile on Nancy Wheeler's face and her surprisingly loud laugh. "It's revolting. I don't understand what anybody sees in b-" She cleared her throat, swallowed. "In him. In Steve. Harrington. I just don't..." Nancy was looking at her now and she felt a little too seen. "I just don't get it," she finished, quietly.

Blue - from ronance lost in the wilderness

In the daytime, with the sun breaking through enough to light the way, her mind clouded by the pain of her injuries and the feverish confusion of her banged up head, it had been easy enough to believe that the forest was just a forest. That people probably hiked out this way on purpose, for fun, even, all the time. 

But out here in the almost-dark, hurt, and, even for a minute, all alone, Robin hated it. It felt like a terrible place to be. It felt wrong, the blue of night encroaching and threateningly familiar. She missed the ugly yellow fluorescence of streetlights like nobody ever had before. The dim light spilling from the outhouse behind her was barely strong enough to cast her shadow, long and fading back into everything else somewhere around where her waist should be.

Care - from ronance lost in the wilderness

Robin caught a glint of something in the swinging lantern light, metal. She walked carefully to the side of the outhouse, wooden and sturdy, and she crouched down slowly, bending her knees and not her waist, unavoidably aware of her injuries but compelled to move anyway. She picked up a rusting hammer where it had been left leaning against the outside wall of the outbuilding.

"Somebody takes better care of their outhouse than they do their tools," she gritted out through the effort of standing herself back up.

Eyebrow - from ronance train tracks 5+1

"No, we- It was a misunderstanding, that's all." Nancy wasn't looking at her, she was watching herself dig a little hole with the toe of her shoe. "We apologized. It's fine. We're fine."

"Jesus," Robin kicked her heels against the concrete wall. "I don't know you, like, at all, obviously? But he basically called you a slut in front of the whole town. Steve Harrington is an asshole. You can do better, is all I'm saying."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I am a slut. Did you consider that? Maybe I cheated on him. Maybe I deserved it."

Friend - from ronance train tracks 5+1

Robin was sitting on the half wall with a sketchbook, trying and failing to draw trains from memory. She wasn't any good at drawing anyway, and it was cold out and her fingers were stiff and her friends were fucking assholes, just fucking idiots, and Nancy Wheeler was walking along the train tracks with her arms held out like wings. Like an airplane, not a train. Like she didn't have a care in the world.

I am a coward about tagging people but here are some words tag yourself and look these up in your wips if you want: clothes, stare, problem, loud, dinner, work

[finnofamerica]

The Week Of - Bucky Barnes X Reader || Part 1 || Angst

Summary: As a bridesmaid in your best friend's wedding, you are invited to stay with her during the week of the wedding as everything gets prepared for the big day. Things don't quite go as planned when you discover that you will be bunking with one of the groomsmen.

Word Count: 1,631

Date Posted: 05.29.23

TW: strong language.

Note: This may not actually be that angsty, but I wasn't sure what else to tag it as lol.

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Me Stuff || Part 2 || Requested

Let's get one thing very clear. You hated flying. You hated airports and their crowds. You hated airplanes. You hated these deathtraps on wings that made babies scream and cry until you were so overstimulated that you wanted to claw your ear drums out. Your leg bounced rapidly as you tried desperately to tune out the static, but your headphones just weren’t quite doing it for you. 

“Are you some kind of nervous flyer?” The man next to you asked, drawing your attention from where you were staring out the window, dissociating as self-preservation. You pushed back one of the ear cuffs on your headset, the rush of noise making you cringe.

“No,” You snapped, “I just can’t stand the chatter.”

 

“Damn, I was just trying to make conversation. You didn’t have to snap like that.”

 

“And you should know better than to try to make conversation with someone clearly wearing headphones.”

 

The man held his hands up in surrender, and you slid your headset back in place. Ava owed you dinner and some peace and goddamn quiet. You wouldn���t have even been on this damn plane in the first place if it wasn’t for her. She and her stupid fiance Greyson, you wanted to smack the shit out of right now.

 

Ava was your best friend in the whole world that had moved out of state with Greyson when he’d gotten a job offer that was too good for him to turn down. You’d kept in touch, but you had to admit that you were a little surprised when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, given that you wouldn’t be able to participate in a lot of the planning.

 

The jarring touchdown of the landing gear on the asphalt was as if someone had activated the trash compactor on the Death Star. It felt like the walls were closing in, and you were itching to set your feet on the cheap linoleum that lined the corridors of the airport. Once the airplane door was open, you had your carry-ons in hand, just waiting for your opportunity to join the slow shuffling line to the exit.

 

However, the stranger in the aisle seat next to you had other plans. He sat calmly in his seat, looking as relaxed as ever, despite your death stares boring holes in his temple. He was certainly in no rush to join the line or clear the way for you to hop past him. Only if murder wasn’t illegal, you had some fun plans for him.

 

Y/n: I’ve landed, but this fucker in the aisle won't get the fuck out of my way, so I can get off this plane. 

Ava: I’m roughly 30 minutes out from the airport. We’ll be leaving soon to pick you up. 

Y/n: I appreciate it, but I’d really rather not be at the airport any longer than necessary. Ava: Well, sweetheart, as long as that “fuck” isn’t moving, it looks like you are stuck either way. You’ll be fine. We’ll be there soon.

“After you.” Finally, once you were the last pair on the plan, he moved to let you out of your row. He gave you a faux gentlemanly smile that didn’t reach his silver-blue eyes as he allowed you to exit the jet in front of him.

“Go fuck yourself,” You scoffed as you made your way down the uncomfortably narrow aisle. If you never had to see him again, you’d die a happy woman. Sure that you had lost him long behind you, you made your way down the baggage claim, collecting your suitcase that they had started unloading off the belt to make room for the next arrivals' luggage.

 

Once outside, you felt like you could take a breath, despite the cloud of cigarette smoke from people lighting up after their long flights.

 

Ava: I’m five minutes away, just navigating my way to the gate. I got lost and had to loop around again.

You fastened your headphones firmly over your ear, trying to drown out the cacophony of car horns. You rocked on the balls of your feet until a familiar car pulled into view. Ava’s unmistakable VW bus hadn’t changed a bit despite being older than you were.

  

Ava pulled to a stop in front of you, hopping out of the driver’s seat with a squeal, rushing over to you, arms stretched out for a hug.

“Hugs or no hugs?” She asked, hesitation halting her movements.

“Later hugs,” you offered, “The airport and flight were just too many people, and I’d like to take a break.”

  

“Okay,” She gave you an understanding smile, dropping her arms and helping you load your bag into the van. You stared at her for a good beat, waiting for her to head back to the driver’s seat and back to her house.

 

“Are we not going now?” You shuffled, scratching your arm, wondering if you’d missed something.

 

“I’m just waiting on one more person,” She assured.

Just as you turned to hop in the front passenger seat, you heard the unmistakable voice of your worst nightmare. Today was just not going to be your day. It was the man from your flight. The leather jacket he wore did nothing to hide the built muscles underneath, nor did his well-fitting jeans. You would have thought he was attractive if you didn't despise him.

 

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He cursed. You knew it was meant to be under his breath, but it didn’t stop you from hearing it anyway. 

“Bucky!” Ava cooed, wrapping him up in a hug, “How was your flight?” 

“It was fine.” he patted her back in assurance, whispering, “Who is that?”

Of course, it was Bucky. The Bucky. Ava told you about James Buchannan Barnes, the other guest she’d have in her home over the course of the next week while they’d prepared everyone for the wedding. Greyson’s friend from the support group for disabled veterans that he used to attend before they moved. The Bucky that Ava and Greyson had always wanted to hook you up with but had never actually met. That Bucky.

The Bucky that you had been a bitch to on your flight.

You turned up your headphones, drowning him out. You weren’t interested in what Bucky had to say about you. You were certain it wouldn’t be anything good anyway. Ava helped him load up into the van before joining you in the front row of seating behind the steering wheel. 

Ava made small talk with Bucky the whole way home, leaving you to mess with your pop-it and try to regulate yourself. You ignored them until Ava parked the car in front of a beautiful two-story house you’d only seen in pictures. The entire first floor was open-concept, allowing plenty of room to have a living room and conversation area. With the exception of Greyson’s home office, which was the only separate room on the entire first floor. You knew from Ava’s stories that the house had two guest bedrooms. Once they’d gotten to that point in their relationship, one of them would become a kids' room.

 

“Well, you are welcome to anything in the house.” Ava smiled, stopping outside of the larger of the two guest rooms, “Oh, and Greyson’s parents arrived late last night, and William & Janine will be staying in the other guest room, so you and Buck have to share.”

 

Before you had the chance to protest, Ava continued, “You two are grown adults. You’ll be fine sharing for the week. Besides, there is plenty of space in there for the two of you.” 

You sighed, the look of defeat evident on your face. You knew you couldn’t afford a hotel for the entire weekend. You led the way into the room, setting your suitcase on the bed. It was a simple room with a large king bed centered on the interior wall. There wasn’t much for decoration, but it was nice nonetheless. 

“I call first shower,” you muttered to Bucky, digging through your suitcase to find your shower items to take into the attached bathroom. If you didn’t shower the ‘travel’ off of you, there was no way you’d be able to sleep at night. But you had to shower before your unwanted roommate, or there was no way you’d be getting in a shower. Logically, the hot water heater would refill in about twenty minutes, and you didn’t know how Bucky liked his showers, but either way, if you didn’t shower first, then you weren’t showering. All of the hot water would be gone, and there would be no more left for you. 

“Be my guest,” Bucky let out a groan as he sat in the armchair in the corner of the room. He dug out his phone, and you were convinced it was to text Ava and Greyson his private complaints about you. Or, as you hoped, to book a hotel and be out of there asap. 

You took as quick of a shower as you could when you had to scrub every inch of your body until you no longer felt like you were covered head to toe in slime. Being around so many people in such tight quarters always made you feel like there was garbage sticking to your entire body. You’d changed into sweats and an oversized t-shirt. You hadn’t expected to be stuck in the same room with someone long enough to be worried about dressing sexy. 

“The shower is all yours,” You offered meekly, moving to zip your suitcase back up and set it on the floor. Bucky said nothing but gathered his things and headed to the bathroom himself. 

Great, your thoughts echoed. Off to a great start.

Tags: @1deadpool26

[discodeviant]

One Swing, Just One Thing

Jonathan/Argyle | Teen | 3k No Upside Down, Light Angst

My take on the Cali move in the little Disco-verse I have in my head lol, please enjoy <3 <3

Read on AO3

There were a devastating number of things that Jonathan hated about Hawkins, not limited to its inseparable school boards and suffocating, tight-knit groups. The summers were disappointing at best, and still fucking cold at worst; winters bit at his nose and fingertips so harshly that he thought they’d fall right off. Hawkins was the town that molded his father into the crass, neglectful man that he was, and even he was scared off some years ago. On a whim, maybe, but Jonathan always suspected that he’d never loved their family in the first place. Joyce was too forgiving; Will was too young to know better than to think Lonnie’s disappearance was personal. Not that he went very far—only fifty minutes to Indianapolis—but it felt like he was across the ocean in a different world entirely. Jonathan hated that Hawkins had been breaking his mother to pieces ever since.

The time between then and now was a long, dull three years of absolutely nothing with some excitement sprinkled on top like glitter. Lonnie broke the divorce contract and took Will into the city for a week in eighty-two, which rendered the already-quiet kid fully mute for two months. In eighty-three, Jonathan won a fight against Steve Harrington in a back alley somewhere, which he still thought may have been a fever dream. Every punch and bruise left behind led to Nancy Wheeler leaving Steve for Jonathan in eighty-four and loving him until the summer of eighty-five, when college applications rolled around and pried them apart.

Somewhere in between, Joyce married Jim Hopper, whose daughter could move twenty times her weight with her mind, but those were details Jonathan didn’t like to think about.

California was on the horizon by July, and the five of them were driving into Lenora Hills in early August. Hopper said it wasn’t dirty money when it came from the source, but Jonathan was still wary of the whole thing. Hawkins was terrible, but it was home for eighteen years. It was familiar. It was where he taught Will how to ride a bike, and where he took his mother’s new wedding photos during the not-ceremony they held in front of Castle Byers. Just Will’s friends and their parents, Steve and Nancy somehow, and that was all they needed. Hawkins was every waking moment of Jonathan’s life, gone in a flash—it felt that way when he started school again.

Hawkins wasn’t creative with name-calling either. Freak was thrown around for both Byers boys, and another kid in some of Jonathan’s classes. Fuck up when the tapes he had for a middle school play were sabotaged and left for him to take the blame. Fairy caught on after Harrington called him a queer in front of Tommy Hagan (that was before Jonathan kicked his ass), and it hit a little too deep, that one. Lonnie used to say that about Will when he was around. Freak and fag and fairy and good-for-nothing fruit—F-words haunted him.

In California, though, Jonathan was little more than a ghost, and he was happy to keep it that way. He didn’t draw attention to himself or talk to anyone outside of class, and even then he stuck to his desk mates, but he was a good kid. Kind, soft-spoken like his brother, always carrying that damn camera with him so he didn’t miss anything. Californian kids weren’t as cruel as those from small-town Indiana, but they still stared. If they whispered, it was out of range. He could deal with that.

Shop class was what really threw him for a loop.

Back home, he realized that there were two types of guys who took shop: those who were interested in trade and chose to be there, and those who were put into it because they weren’t that great at anything else. Jonathan was in the former group since hands-on work was easier for him to get a handle on, and he never dreamt of going to some fancy university with top-dog academics. That was Nancy’s dream. His was simple and steady like a saw cutting through slabs of pine and the hinges holding them together. His was the freedom of choosing what wood stain to use between burned lines in the surface of a three-panel table. His was photography, in truth, but carpentry was a good fallback.

Jonathan wasn’t sure what to make of his project partner. Which kind of guy Argyle was, he really couldn’t say. On the one hand, he had a fantastic eye for measurements and made perfect cuts nearly every time, and his eyes lit up when their teacher complimented his work. He was fast too, never wasting a moment in between getting instructions and following them. On the other hand, he spoke like he was deep in outer space, and maybe he was. Argyle epitomized the doped-out beach boy with the attention span of a fruit fly in most other classes, from what Jonathan could tell. Maybe that was why he glanced in Argyle’s direction whenever he could, just for a split second of those long, long locks or proof that it was all an act. Not that he would understand why, but Argyle was a distant interest until they were told to work on a porch swing together, and he was suddenly much closer.

“Hey, so, uh… how big are we gonna make this thing?” Jonathan asked as Argyle fiddled with his pencil eraser. They sat at a table in the back, bags and papers splayed out alongside a few wooden beams that they reserved in advance. “Like… one, two people?”

Argyle looked up and nodded in thought. “Two’s cool. Or… I guess we could make it for one really big person. Or three small people.” His words sounded like they came from the long distance his eyes stared off into. Through Jonathan somehow, if that was even possible. It made him a little wary.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jonathan gazed around the room to fill the silence with something else. Other students’ chatter and sawing, hammers swinging already, a buzzsaw that went off for a few seconds. Between the boys, it was agonizing, and they mostly worked through gestures and mumbled project plans.

Throughout the week, they eased into a better conversation flow. They passed along hellos through glances in other classes, then said their heys when they made it to shop. Jonathan found himself lingering on those smiles until the next came along, and then he added that one to his mental collection. A portfolio, of sorts, of the times those smiles were accompanied by a wave or enthusiastic nod. All the while, their swing was making progress, and Argyle proved his skillful hand so much that he did most of the hard parts himself. Jonathan had fun watching.

After that weekend, they decided that Jonathan would be in charge of its more intricate designs, which he was happy to focus on. Drawing out ideas in pencil on the wood, taking Argyle’s sketches into account. And like he watched Argyle, Argyle watched him right back with intense focus. Whether the whites of his eyes were red or not, he was meticulous when filling in the lines with Gunsmoke—an orange stain they used around the edges. Once all was said and done, the swing was sanded and lathered in wax coating, and they were the first pair to finish.

“That’s one bangin’ bench, if I do say so myself.” Argyle stood with both hands on his hips, licking at his teeth as he ogled their final project. “Good work, my man.” The clap on Jonathan’s back startled him a little.

“You too, you too.”

“Hey, do you think you could help me get it out to my car later?”

“You’re taking it?”

“Yeah, man, Teach said I could. I got sisters, they’re gonna love this thing. We used to have one, but it was all grody and, like, just fell apart one day, so. Set it up there, I guess. You can come by if you want.”

“I—I don’t know—I gotta work on my paper.” Jonathan only noticed his palms were sweaty when he rubbed them down his thighs and stained the denim.

“Do it at mine, man. It’s quiet when the girls are doin’ their thing, and we can get free pizza.”

“Free pizza?” Jonathan asked, but Argyle just gave him a look that hooked and reeled like he didn’t give the line any trouble at all. “What the hell, why not.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Argyle clapped his hands together and rubbed them so fast that an ember should have sparked and burned the place down, but maybe that was Jonathan’s nerves thinking too quickly. Before he knew it, Argyle was packing his things and walking out backwards with a pair of finger-guns pointed at him. “You and me, Byers!”

The bell rang soon after.

“A pizza van?”

“Yeah, man! Life’s way easier when I can just throw shit in the back. Plus, my manager says it’s good advertising, and I’m inclined to agree. Come on, let’s get her in there.”

They’d waited for the school crowd to pile out before carrying the swing to the end of the parking lot, where Jonathan’s earlier question was answered. With the van’s boot open, they hoisted the swing up and into the back with little struggle—which was mostly Argyle’s doing—and walked to sit up front together after closing it.

“What toppings do you like?” Argyle asked as he backed out.

“Uh… anything I guess. I’m not picky.”

“Pineapple?”

Jonathan grimaced. “Never had it.”

“Try before you deny, my friend.”

And, well, Jonathan couldn’t argue with that for a number of reasons.

Pizza first, home second—that was their order of operations, though they decided to take the food to-go instead of sitting in a loud parlor teeming with children. Jonathan paid for a sub in case he hated the pizza, which Argyle laughed at him for. Not maliciously; Jonathan was pretty sure he didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. He was too carefree for that, too laid back, too genuine. So far, anyway, and Jonathan knew he needed a friend like him even if it was too soon to say they were friends just yet. Unless it wasn’t. He didn’t know.

Friends had come and gone, and stayed gone more often than not. Will and his mom were the only two constants for so long. His middle and high school friends were temporary, Nancy was temporary, Hopper and El might have been temporary for all he knew by that point. But that was Hawkins, where he’d been a freak for sitting in the cafeteria corner even when he got there first. That was Hawkins High, where people still talked about his brother like he’d died and come back to life even though he was only gone for a week. Those people weren’t supposed to be friends to begin with, and Jonathan didn’t try to make them friends.

But this was Lenora Hills, sitting in Argyle’s pizza van that may not have been his at all, and he was so California—so unlike Indiana—that Jonathan couldn’t help smiling.

As they pulled up to the house, he asked, “Did you grow up here?”

“Born and raised, man.” Argyle said so with pride that Jonathan could only dream of. “Closer to San Jose, actually, but it’s the same shit everywhere.” He laughed, and they stepped out. “Where’d you get swept up from? Not the city.” Boot open; Argyle pulled the swing out for Jonathan to catch the end.

“No, no,” he said. “Hawkins. It was sorta close to the city, but far-fucking-from it in every other way.”

“Where’s that, Utah?” Argyle held the other end, and they walked up the grass to where a couple of A-frames were set up with a beam joining the vertices.

Jonathan chuckled. “Indiana.”

“Oh, shit, you’re like… from way-fuckin’-out there, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. Not that exciting. At least I’ve heard of San Jose.”

“Not missing out there either, dude, but, I don’t know, maybe I was just used to it.” They set the swing down. “Green grass or some crap, whatever shit they talk about. Anyway, lemme close the van, then, uh… we’ll go in and eat. Or we can eat out here, whatever.”

Jonathan shrugged and said, “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll grab your bag for you.” Argyle didn’t protest and brought in the pizza while Jonathan had one bag slung over each shoulder. That said, Argyle’s was more of a sack, but it fit everything he needed.

“I gotta get a new one soon,” he said as they walked into the warmth of a well-lived-in home. Something about it reminded Jonathan of the house in Hawkins. Small but cozy and littered with half-filled coloring pages, toys on the floor, a bottle of glitter tipped over on a shelf. It smelled like honey and spice wrapped into a billowing fire, but that was in the walls and rugs on the floor. That was Argyle.

A TV sat on the coffee table in the living room, which merged with the kitchen so Argyle could turn it on while he got a couple of plates out. “Take a seat, man, my couch is your couch. And, lucky for us, it seems we’ve got the house to ourselves for another couple hours at least, so no noisy children to deal with.”

“Where is everybody?”

“Uh… today’s Friday?” Jonathan nodded. “Dad’s workin’ late, so they’re with abuela for the night. She’s up, uh—near that lake up there.”

“That’s cool.”

“Anyway…” Argyle carried the pizza box to the couch with a plate on top for each of them. Jonathan had already put their drinks on the table. “Bon appétit, my dude,” he said, holding up his slice of Hawaiian, an invitation for a toast. Jonathan met it with his own and sunk his teeth in, expecting the worst, but he was pleasantly surprised. “See?”

They both said in unison, “Try before you deny.”

“Jesus, that’s fucking good.”

“Thank those Hawaiians, man.”

“Ugh—thank you, Hawaiians—mm…”

A short while after letting their food settle, the guys went back outside to set up the swing before it got too dark. Argyle had some chains that he hooked through the arms and base before hanging it with Jonathan’s help. He didn’t do much, but it was enough to earn a high-five anyway, so he took it in stride. When they were done, they sat on it together, both just fitting so their knees touched, but it was comfortable. Jonathan was comfortable.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie to you, man, this thing could use some throw pillows,” Argyle said.

“You got any?”

“Yeaaaah, but I don’t feel like going back inside yet, so. Later.” Jonathan ate from a bag of gummy worms. “You smoke?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. You go ahead, I don’t mind. My parents are both chimneys.”

So Argyle fished around in his pocket and pulled out a smoke that was a little worse for wear, from what Jonathan could tell, but it had probably been in there all day. “You got this stuff back home, country boy?” Jonathan looked more closely at it and suddenly understood.

“Oh.”

Argyle laughed. “Is that a no?”

“No, no, I mean, we do, just… only had it a couple times. Plus, like, my mom married a cop. Literally the chief.”

“No shit! Oh, dude, you’re missing out big time.”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t that good.”

“Byers, my man… this is the real shit. Good shit. Purple Palm Tree Delight. Well worth the pennies.”

“Purple Palm Tree Delight.”

“Yessiree.” A lighter was next. Argyle flipped it open and lit the joint between his lips, Jonathan watching with a sudden draw to the smoke leaving his mouth. “You’ll like it.”

Jonathan hesitated for a moment before taking it from between Argyle’s fingers, strong and dirty from the swing work but still so tempting to touch. “One drag,” he said. It occurred to him briefly, when he put it in his mouth and took a shallow huff, that he might have been called a fairy for this too if he were back in middle school.

Side-by-side, closer to a guy than either seemed to realize as he held his lips around something that another man’s lips had already touched. Maybe Jonathan was being childish to think that they’d just kissed. Lips to joint to lips again, his one puff turned into two, then three, then an equal share as he and Argyle passed it between each other. Argyle’s lips were red by the time it was down to a nub of embers that he snuffed with dirty fingertips and dropped into the grass.

Maybe it was naive to be glad that he was in California, sitting on a swing in his new friend’s backyard—who, yes, now, Jonathan could be sure was his friend. He knew this never could have happened in Hawkins. Not the peaceful silence as the final few minutes of sunlight disappeared, not the violet-tinted delight rolling through his arms and legs and brain. Certainly not a kiss, though he wasn’t sure that would happen in California either.

Maybe it could someday, he thought. Then he wouldn’t have to pretend that indirect contact through a joint was enough. He wouldn’t have to imagine or make believe. He could just turn his head, look into Argyle’s glowing eyes in the dark, and lean in with herbal confidence to back him up.

And they’d swing.

And they’d touch.

And even now, looking at Argyle’s profile wasn’t enough to satisfy. “Is there something on my face?” he asked, and Jonathan shook his head.

“No, just… your face.” His vision blurred as his eyelids slowly flitted closed, fighting an uphill battle to keep him awake. Everything was fuzzy inside and out, and Argyle chuckled.

“Well, I can’t exactly wipe that off, now, can I?”

In Hawkins, Jonathan wouldn’t have let his arm lean enough to the side to brush against Argyle’s. In Hawkins, his head wouldn’t have been guided to a broad shoulder with another pair of legs kicking the swing into motion again. In Hawkins, he wouldn’t have been completely and totally relaxed at the mercy of someone else, but Argyle’s head falling over his own was enough to blanket the rest of him in warmth. Maybe it was his hair.

Either way, it was Argyle. He was one thing to love about California.

[narrators-journal]

another ryomina but w 5 and 12 (:

I can’t promise this is very good, but it’s one of two Ryomina asks, so I’m taking it as a chance to just purely INDULGE with my thoughts on RyoMina. So, Nyx is sort of treated like Ryoji’s mom, and canonicity is acknowledged, but loose. I hope you all enjoy this one too <3

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Breeding, gentle breathplay, at least implied pet play, rough sex, Ryoji’s kinda a slut lol.

Creaking, slapping, sighs and moans. The weight of a body on top of him, and another settling over his mind, the warmth of impatient breath’s fanning out across his skin, the fingers pressing against the back of his neck as Minato held the god’s collar. Everything felt like too much, but nowhere near enough at the same time. Even after the blue-haired man was given to him until the seal was no longer needed, Ryoji still couldn’t get enough of Minato’s touch.

The scent of clean laundry and lavender, the unyielding onslaught of stomach-clenching pleasure, the guttural growls of, “good boy…” “You're taking me so well….” panted into his ear as he clawed into the rumpled sheets of the bed, it was intoxicating. Like the powerful wildcard exuded some aphrodisiac, or...whatever other drug wiped out any thought in a person's head.

Ryoji couldn’t be bothered to think of one to fit that description at the moment. Not with Minato clawing into his hips, biting at his neck like a cat in heat, trapping the god in place as he slammed into him at a ruthless, thorough pace that sent shockwaves of painful pleasure and an erotic powerlessness that turned Ryoji’s muscles fork tender and swept away any coherent thought beyond breed, breed, breed.

A, clearly, out of place urge in the man’s head. But...the longer Minato had him tripped in deliciously demeaning torment, the stronger that desire grew. Feeding the flames of the lustful forest fire already in his belly, and drawing out more whines and needy cries, “B-breed me! Breed me, Mina, please!” He begged, gasping slightly when the blue-haired man suddenly halted his thrusting and grabbed the back of his collar to pull his head back. Restricting Ryoji’s oxygen as he hummed with an edge of amusement in his lazy voice, “What was that, nightshade?” the god able to feel him grin when he shuddered at his husky question, “Breed...me.” He repeated, doing his best to look into his lover’s stormy eyes with his best submissive, pleading look, “Please?”

For a long moment, Ryoji could only blink blearily, wheezing breaths through the pull of his thick collar. Minato looked into his lust-dulled eyes in silence until, “Man, you really don’t have a single other thought in that head of yours, do you?” At that, the brunette did his best to nod, the lack of air seeping into his head to thicken the haze. Which, he was sure Minato could see, judging from the small smile tugging at the man’s lips before he finally released the collar and let Ryoji flop back onto the mussed bedding, gulping down air and moaning at the headrush that replaced the sluggishness.

Laying there, his legs shaking, Minato’s arms on either side of his shoulders, the god of death tried to scrape together enough coherent thoughts to be at all ashamed of his position. Laying on his belly, with a mortal buried hilt-deep in his ass. Letting a piece of prey turn his mind into mush, and pleading to somehow get a kid from him. Nyx would be disgusted with her avatar, for sure.

It made the coil in Ryoji’s belly tighten.

Tightening further when Minato lowered himself so that his chest was pressed to Ryoji’s back, his lips leaving a warm trail of feather-light kisses from the base of the brunette’s neck to his ear, where he almost purred. “You want me to breed you, nightshade?~” In a dangerously honeyed tone that made the god whine like a whore, “Yes! Pleash!” “Do you?” He asked again, his words thrumming against Ryoji’s skin as he spoke, all while grinding into his lover’s ass to get more mindless moans and slurred pleas from him.

Only satisfied when the brunette was begging and squirming beneath him. Kept from moving his hips to get even a crumb more of friction by the hand Minato kept at his hip. “Okay, handsome. Calm down.” He said with a breath of a laugh.

With that, he returned to humping into Ryoji. Trading his more feral, fast pace for one that would make the mindless man beneath him jolt with each thrust. Bracing himself by keeping one hand on Ryoji’s hips, and putting his other one on his shoulder. Not that Ryoji was prone to escaping, the god was reduced to little more than a mindless whore, muttering out, “Please...please, breed...please, please...breed me…” amidst the lewd noises he let out more and more the tighter the coil in his stomach got. Until, with a damn near howl, a powerful burst of heat turned the god’s vision white.

However, as the warmth of his own seed subsided on his stomach, and Ryoji could get air back into his lungs, he found that the warmth in his belly wasn’t fading the same way. Taking too long to register as the warm fullness of his lover filling him with his own cum. “Mina…?” He mumbled, almost unintelligible after his orgasm had swept away his energy like a tsunami. A state the wildcard seemed to be in as well, laying on the brunette, his face buried in his neck as he regained his composure. “Are...you okay?”

The blue-haired man gave a grunt in confirmation, running a hand up the god’s soft side affectionately before he mumbled, “I’ll clean you up later. Cuddles first.” Which, Ryoji nodded at. Letting the man pull him down and wrap his strong arms around him. The softer kisses and his simple company in the mess of blankets, sheets, and pillows gave the brunette that same buzz and warmth that he enjoyed.

A nice end to such a feral night of fun.

[vexahlla]

hehe ✨️ 🎁 💛

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

someone bookmarked one of my fics with "anything you write is my favorite" which im unable to ever be normal about. i also really like all the comments on royal red & ocean blue chapter 5 bc it's such a fun chapter, someone thanked the inventors of snow, kendo, and thermal underwear, another person quoted 'you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up' which made me feel like i nailed the dynamic. and ofc the dream syncing comment section is full of gems and thank YOU specifically for calling it sexy i didn't know how it would land lol

i savor every comment. genuinely

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

uhhh so listen... idk about rymin but you can have some zukka. this is from the incomplete and very long rrob ch10 "the king of karaoke" a very (purposefully) awkward coming out scene:

Zuko scans the room and quirks a brow. "So this is your Ba Sing Se crowd?" There's a waver in his voice that belies his casual tone. Sokka follows his eye line to see what has him thrown off balance.

Zuko's looking at two girls making out at the foot of the stage, but drops his gaze when he realizes Sokka's followed in his direction.

Sokka's body stills, but he points a sharp glare at Zuko. "Yes," he says, voice dripping with challenge. "Is that an issue, your highness?" He doesn't care that it's factually inaccurate, he just wants Zuko to hear how much of an ass he's being.

Zuko blinks at him, then stumbles through a fervent, tipsy head shake. "No," he says as his cheeks color from more than just the alcohol. "I thought it might be for you, for some reason." He spins his pointer finger as if trying to rewinding time. "I don't know why, though. In retrospect," he adds with a nervous chuckle as he looks anywhere but at Sokka. He had been looking at Sokka the entire night, like he'd been Zuko's refuge in all this chaos, and the absence of his gaze is jarring. "Anyway..."

Zuko is interesting to be around. He's easy to read, most of the time, but where the emotions stem from is still a complicated puzzle Sokka has yet to piece together. He's got a competitive streak, at least where Sokka is concerned, as evidenced by them always trying to one-up each  other at banter or dumb games. And there's this feeling Sokka gets around him that he can’t place, electric yet gentle. It draws him in; it’s something to solve.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes he's just confusing.

"What?" Sokka asks. He wonders if they can ever have a clear conversation when liquor is involved.

“Sokka,” Zuko starts. Stops. He ruffles his hair, hides his head in his arms folded on the table, emerges again. He doesn’t quite meet Sokka’s eye. “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Sokka says. His too-loud heartbeat is drowning out any coherent thoughts.

Zuko still isn’t looking at him.

“That’s awesome,” Sokka says. “I mean, that’s cool.” He wants to dunk his burning face in cold water. “Good for you.”

As he says it, Zuko is stumbling over his own words. “So I wasn’t, you know — I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I get that now,” Sokka says. He recovers from his shock and remembers himself. “Thanks for telling me. I mean, for trusting me enough to tell me that. Yeah.” Okay, so not completely recovered, but still.

Zuko releases a long-held breath. When at last he returns Sokka’s gaze, the harsh red laser lights of the club are filtered to a soft pink in his amber irises. There’s a moment of acknowledgment before he blinks back down to where his fingers are tearing apart a napkin and he’s guarded again.

“I almost told you before,” he says. “At the festival.”

Sokka thinks back to that moment. He winces, remembering how much he had assumed — not only about Zuko, but about Mai, too. Sure, he’s accepting in theory. But in practice? Maybe he has a lot more to work out than he thinks.

“Shit,” Sokka says. “I’m so dumb.” This time he’s the one avoiding eye contact. “You were trying to tell me and I didn’t get it—”

“I backed out.”

“And I was just going on about girls. Not even thinking—”

“I thought you would hate me again.”

Sokka’s mouth and heart sputter to a stop.

“Not that I had any reason to think you’d have a problem with it,” Zuko says, waving it off and fumbling through his words before Sokka can respond. “Obviously you wouldn’t.” It doesn’t sound as confident as Zuko likely thinks he does. “It’s just… We had finally started talking. I thought it might be different enough to throw things off balance again.”

Zuko’s attention is devoted entirely to the bits of napkin in his grip. 

Sokka pushes past the dull pulse in his ears. “Hey. Zuko.”

Zuko glances back up.

Sokka’s reach is slow as he gauges Zuko’s reaction. With no sign of resistance, he places his hands on Zuko’s shoulders. Zuko relaxes at the touch, so Sokka treads further and pulls him into an uncertain hug. Almost immediately, nervousness shifts into warmth, until he's more comfortable in Zuko's arms than he'd been outside them. Sokka isn’t sure how long it lasts. He isn’t sure he cares.

“I like learning more about you,” he says as they draw apart.

Zuko’s light smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

i used to treat writing so preciously and i was pretentious about it, if i wasn't shakespeare then what was the point. i still have perfectionism issues, but at least i get stuck on WIPs i have actual words down on instead of consuming every writing tip video on youtube and fantasizing. i used to not write fanfic bc i wanted the first thing i ever wrote to be "the novel of my heart" or whatever the fuck. and if i DID write a fic i wanted it to be a big multichap cornerstone of the fandom, which is the mindset i started rrob in LMAO. i would wonder why i was so much better at drawing than writing when writing was what i really CARED about. im not afraid to doodle only for myself, im not afraid to abandon drawings, im not afraid to put pencil on paper and START. every time i apply that lesson to writing it helps, but it's still hard for me to keep in practice.

Fanfic Writer Ask Game

[avionvadion]

My sister wrote a fic thing after I sent her a drawing I found of a touch-starved Zhongli, lol, so I drew something to go with it!

He did not notice the ache at first. Centuries had passed, but in the eyes of an Archon, it was as though it was simply a breath - a sigh leading from one time to the next and suddenly everything had changed.

It was a subtle ache; the slight twinge of sorrow or confusion at the back of one's mind as he would pass among the mortals of Liyue. Slowly growing into a gnawing itch that ran along his skin. It’s cause was unknown at first, until one day he brushed shoulders with a passing merchant, the man unable to see him standing there overtop of the boxes he was carrying.

“Sorry sir, didn’t see you there!” He had called, walking off to wherever he had been headed. The man not once looking back to see the look of shock upon the Archon’s face.

That one touch, however brief and fleeting, has lit his arm aflame. The warm sensation radiating across the limb from his neck to fingertips, leaving the flesh buzzing and energized. It was sometime later that day, as he sat to ponder the sensation over dinner, that he realized what the ache had been; as the electrifying sensation faded to empty numbness he was finally able to put a name to it.

Loneliness.

He was lonely, and touch-starved. Having spent hundreds of years upon the lands of Teyvat, watching his friends and comrades slowly fade away, hiding away in their mountains and forests, falling to the harsh stings of war, or simply flittering to dust. Somewhere along the way he stopped noticing the vanishing of his companions and simply wandered. Alone. Traveling the land without word or whisper of comfort or care. Simply being, but not quite living.

He could see the markers of loneliness upon himself. Could see the marks of kinship on others: a touch here in passing, an arm thrown round one's shoulders in laughter, the skimming of fingers over passing bottles and cards, hands held softly against a lover's, shoulders pressed softly together watching the stream.

All the marks upon the people of Liyue, of Teyvat, and yet he stood silent against it all; all remnants of past marks having faded against the sands of time. And in his silence time moved on again, with hands clasped against his back he walked the lonely roads of time again. Waiting for that spark to show itself again.

Waiting.

Alone…

He stood now by a merchant's stall in the streets of Liyue, picking up a fine bottle of spirits as he stood to his full height.

“You have a good eye! That is one of our finest blends.”

“Of course. Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember…” He responded easily, sparing silent thoughts for those who once shared the memory as he paid the merchant and proceeded on his way down the street.

It was as he took a moment to glance at the autumn afternoon that he was taken by surprise, electric currents of sensation lighting across his abdomen and back as purple-clothed arms wrapped around his middle, a muffled voice grinning into his back.

“Zhongli!”

Another set of limbs came wrapping around his left arm, the auburn hair of the older sister coming into view, “Zhongli, we found you!”

A laugh escaped him as he placed a hand atop the arms round his middle, “And so you have. I take it your commission went well?”

“It did!” The younger one poked her head out from behind him, brown eyes bright with youth and excitement, “Katheryne even gave us a bonus for locating a relic item that’s been missing.”

He smiled, brushing a hand through her dark locks, “So I see. Well done, Iliana.”

The younger grinned broadly, wrapping tighter around him in a backwards sort of hug, “It wasn’t just me, Mae helped too!”

“Speaking of,” Mae stated as she moved to hold Zhongli’s forearm, slowly starting to pull him along; the touch sending warmth through him, “we decided it’s dinner time and you’re coming with us.”

“Oh, is it now?”

“Yes!” Iliana said as she started pushing him along from the back, her grin never fading, “You promised to tell us that story when we got back, remember? We’re back, so let’s go, go, go!! Before the restaurant closes!”

“She’s right, it’s story time now!” Mae beamed, dragging him along easily as they headed down the bridge, “And dinner is our treat!”

Zhongli let out a soft laugh at their antics, overcome with many emotions from their fondness for him. “Of course, how could I forget? I would never dream of making you both wait for such a treat. Yes, I believe a story would be a lovely pair with dinner.”

After all, he wasn’t alone anymore. The girls would always be there with him; his beloved daughters gifted to him by Celestia. They would be together, hand in hand as they led him through this new era of man.

Of course. With them near, it was as if he was never alone at all.

Note: Mae and Iliana aren't his biological daughters. He's sort of unofficially adopted them, lol. Iliana has an electro vision and Mae a cryo vision.