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peachylynnie · 5 days ago

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you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead

synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo)

contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing.

a/n: i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. i'll write for caleb once he's officially in the game since i'm not familiar with him yet. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated.

lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright)

Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street

Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his.

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?”

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far.

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh

He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good.

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble.

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body.

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck.

oh.

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck.

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?"

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding.

"anything for my beloved bride."

zayne

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool

Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

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boltwrites · 5 months ago

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Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #mine

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parfaitblogs · 1 month ago

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present enough for me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you're decorating your apartment with your boyfriend, you're all too clumsy, and really, who makes glass baubles these days?

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. decorating a christmas tree. mentions of blood. joking about murder and prison (it makes sense i promise). puts up with your shit!spencer reid. word count: >1k a/n: short n sweet little thingy to keep us going this holiday season ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

Everything had happened so fast.

One minute, you were hanging a bauble on the tree, Spencer's ever so familiar voice reverberating around the room as he recites information you had to applaud him for knowing.

Facts like, "Did you know Germans celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve? Because technically, Jesus was born on the night of the 24th. It's like this for a lot of European countries, actually." And, "Orthodox Christmas is on January 7, because Orthodox centric countries like Serbia, Belarus and Russia follow the Julian calendar, instead of the Gregorian one we do."

And, unfortunately, Spencer Reid's info-dumping is not annoying, but attractive to you. You oftentimes find yourself keenly listening in as he rattles off facts about things you'll probably never understand to the extent he does. Though, he does love over explaining just so you can comprehend some part of it.

It had, evidently, led to you becoming a bit too distracted by your boyfriend halfway across the living room, adorning the television with tinsel, and resulted in your hand slipping as it slid a bauble onto the faux snow tree branch. It had fallen, and shattered, shards of it exploding across the wooden floor.

You curse aloud, taking an instinctual step back, eyebrows furrowing.

"Are you okay, angel?" Spencer calls, and you cringe at the sight of the pieces of bauble on the floor, though nod your head regardless.

"Yeah. You should see the other guy," you mumble, crouching down to the floor to pick up shards of the bauble.

"No, don't touch—" he's cut off by your hiss as the sharp edge of the bauble slices your skin, your other hand that was already nursing some pieces, closing into a fist around them.

"Fuck," you seethe again, all the shards dropping to the floor at your — arguably stupid — mistake.

"The first health and safety rule when you drop glass is don't pick it up with your hands," Spencer scolds, his slippers padding against the floor as he heads over to you. His hand wraps around your forearm and he picks you up, shaking his head.

"Okay, well, what idiot makes glass baubles?" you retort.

"What clumsy idiot buys them?" he shoots back, and you huff because, well, he's got you there.

"You're supposed to be supportive and nurturing," you mumble, though you're sure if Spencer overbearingly attempted to console your injured hand immediately, you'd question if he's sick.

"I can multitask," he answers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Up."

You jump off the ground as he picks you up, carrying your body over to the kitchen stool, where he sets you down, away from the crime scene that is a shattered, bloodied bauble.

"It looks like that bauble tried to murder me," you say, staring at the scene.

"I'll put some caution tape around the tree until it goes to trial."

"I vote two consecutive life sentences."

"Two? What's the second one for?"

"Conning me," you grumble.

He laughs as he disappears into the guest bathroom, just to reappear with the bright red First Aid kit, placing it on the kitchen counter next to you.

"Hand, please," he says, standing in front of you, and you hold out your palm. "Oh yeah, this is pretty bad, huh?"

"I can handle it," you huff, puffing your chest up. "A soldier never shows fear."

"My brave girl," he says, using baby wipes to clean up the blood, gently. "Did it get you anywhere else?"

You shake your head, wincing at the pressure — however slight — over the cuts on your skin. "Just my hands."

He nods his head, and once the blood is cleaned, he's soothing them with some antiseptic cream, trying to keep his touch as featherlike as possible.

"I liked that bauble too," you mumble as he begins wrapping a bandage around your hand.

"It's the same as the thirteen other one's of its design in the pack."

"No. It was special," you reply, shooting a glare at Spencer, who surrenders almost immediately.

"Okay," he slowly nods his head, only really indulging in your antics to humour you. And maybe himself.

Once your hand was wrapped up, and Spencer had given you a kiss for your undeniable bravery, you were bounding back over to the tree to finish adorning it with trinkets and other decor.

"Please be careful," he warns, though abandons his post on the other side of the living room to help you with the three.

Just in case.

"I'm super careful."

He shoots you a look, that you match with a shit-eating grin, and then you're delving back into decorating the tree.

By the time you're done, you are not any more injured, and the tree is lit up with an assortment of colours and glitter, and you're smiling, leaning against the television cabinet to admire it.

The television cabinet dressed with a collection of candles, candle holders, tinsel, and a festive table runner you forgot you even owned.

A table runner your hand was resting on.

And Spencer was too late in warning you, and your hand swings forwards, before you trip and land flat on your ass.

He doesn't help you up this time.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia's advent calendar ♡#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

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lieutenant-fred · 2 months ago

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everything's in the tags

fun thing to consider for object head oc’s:

how do they sleep/recharge/regain energy?

heal themselves after being dented/hurt/cracked?

eat? drink? remove waste?

clean themselves?

emote? reactions to emotions? pain? energy excess or deficit? what is controllable and what is involuntary?

how do they sense? see, smell, taste, feel, movement, colors, brightness? what does the world look like to them?

what abilities do they have beyond normal human ones? what abilities do they lack?

how do they use their object’s purpose or common use? ex would your clock person keep the time for their friends? be very punctual? if they were to be cracked and stop working, would they instead be chronically late?

how do they feel about their purpose, if man-made? insert iron giant “what if a gun didnt want to be a gun” quote.

what would be the equivalent of sickness for them? what conditions can their object have that could translate into sickness? how would this be treated?

society around them and how it interacts with all above points. ex. would a clock person go to a clockmaker to fix a malfunction?

#oh hWHEHHEHEHEH time to yap #for the ones who have flowers/fruits for heads. the rest of their body are plant-like so they can consume and eat like plants do #they live among other plant people so I'm sure there'd be plant people doctors #for the tv heads/general electronic heads they're robots. they just charge or hook up to a power source if they need energy #so like a mechanic would be their doctor #and surgeon #or they can just do surgery on themselves #except for doctor solaris. his head IS his power source so idk if he eats normally or smth... I like to think that he can remove the #“lightbulb” part and you'd have a hot ball of gas (aka a star) and he just eats random stuff like how you would keep a fire lit #does... does fire produce waste when it's still going?#do stars make smoke actually #I think they do #and for uh [REDACTED BECAUSE HE'S SPOILER STUFF FOR MY OC ASKBLOG I'M TRYING TO MAKE] he's god or at least some sort of eldritch abominatio #and thus it doesn't matter #idk how any of the ones sense things without eyes #maybe their eyes just aren't visible #i think for the funny doctor man it's just eldritch shenanigans that's letting him still sense the world. except for taste. he would eat wo #mmmmmm and for emotions that'd be too much for the tags but the plants don't really emote much (mostly body language)#the robots are well... robots with screen faces #idk for [REDACTED]#thats me yap sesh for now #reblog #stjern is a literal plushie. I don't think plushies need to eat #almost forgot them #yea their technical species is wishing star but they have the anatomy of a plushie #yea that's it for now #ye

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to.

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it.

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?”

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.”

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs.

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back.

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-”

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.”

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne.

“Okay? I don't get it.”

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer.

“Happy Uncle's Day!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday.

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-”

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.”

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-”

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.”

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?”

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.”

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large.

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?”

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.”

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s.

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?”

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in.

“Can't argue with that,” he says.

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning.

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-”

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.”

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders.

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground.

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction.

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?”

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh.

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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hansslut · 4 months ago

Note

could u do jeonghan W a spit kink while having rough sex and slapping kink pls?

ignore if uncomfortable 💗💗

— LOVE TALK

tags: non!idol y.jh x fem!reader, reader is kinda a bitch sorry not sorry, spit kink, slapping kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex ( don't be silly, wrap the willy !! ) mirror sex, rough sex, best friends to ...?, bruises, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, slight cheating? ( technically reader is in a situationship with mingyu but they're not exclusive so! and also reader is kinda annoyed w Mingyu cuz he's too vanilla ) jealous and possessive jeonghan that dislikes Mingyu becauseee i said so! ( everything is fiction pls don't attack me )

a/n: i wouldn't have originally posted this because i didn't really like the way i wrote it and it was a planned jeonghan bday special that i gave up halfway but decided that yolo idc anymore 😇 english isn't my first language!! ALSO TYSM FOR REQUESTING <3

Showing up to your best friend's birthday party and barely paying attention to him because you were too busy flirting with your situationship certainly wasn't the move.

Not when you could feel his eyes on you everytime you giggled a bit too much for it to be a genuine laugh, or everytime his hand would brush against your thighs.

Jeonghan wasn't a possessive man, he never really cared about who you dated or what you did with them, but somehow, seeing you with the man he disliked more than anything, Mingyu, triggered something in him.

What did you even find in him? Sure, he was tall, insanely handsome, the smoothest tan skin that he was sure was practically baby soft, and a build to kill for.

But this was his birthday party, what were you doing on another boy's lap?

Before he could continue on overthinking every move of yours, you approached him with a big smile on your glossy lips and your big eyes glimmering.

"Hannie! Happy birthday, i love you so muchh" You said in a whiny voice as you excitedly wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying from one side to another, making him chuckle and wrap one arm around your waist while the other was on your back.

"Hm, yeah? Love you too, baby. You drank a lil bit too much tho, didn't you?" He teased just to hear you whine a bit more and deny it, your words slightly slurred both from the alcohol and your giggles. "Me? Noo, just needed to drink a bit to survive Mingyu, he's a bit...too clingy for someone who doesn't even have the guts to ask me out" you rolled your eyes with a small scoff at the thought of the puppy boy that couldn't get his hands off of you, yet also couldn't express what he wanted either.

This intrigued your best friend, that raised an eyebrow at your words. Too clingy?. "I thought you liked your men clingy" Jeonghan laughed softly while looking you from head to toe, he couldn't deny that he felt a hint of satisfaction at hearing your annoyance with Mingyu.

"I mean, yeah, but he's also too vanilla for my liking. He's a sweet boy, but i just don't really get the hype" You crossed your arms under your chest, pushing it up a bit unconsciously, Jeonghan's eyes immediately darting down.

Before Jeonghan could answer though, a small whine left your lips as you remembered that you forgot to bring your best friend a gift. "Oh, by the way, Hannie, i forgot to buy you a gift, 'm sorry. Just wanted to make sure i was all pretty for tonight and forgot" you pouted and looked up at him through your eyelashes, making him bite his bottom lip. How could he ever get mad at you when you looked this innocent and destroyable in front of him?

"It's fine, don't sweat about it" his gentle voice reassured before taking onto a more mischievous tone. "Though, you do have something i'd like as a present" his lips grazed over the shell of your ear as his hand caressed the swell of your ass.

"Oh really? What is it?" You asked with an excited smile, completely oblivious to what he meant because of the alcohol in your system making you a little dumber than you already were ( as Jeonghan said )

And that's how you found yourself getting pounded on Jeonghan's bed, your legs pressed against your chest as you moaned and threw your head back, catching a glimpse of Jeonghan's smirk in the mirror as he made eye contact with you through it, your walls fluttering around him.

"Shit, pussy was made for me, huh? Look at you, just needing to get fucked by your own best friend" he said while watching his hard dick sliding in and out of your dripping wet hole. "Fucking bitch, god— do you think he'll fuck you the way i do?" He growled and slapped your cheek, making a few tears of pleasure and pain run down the sides of your face, your makeup now completely ruined.

"Jeon-Jeongha-aah! N-no, plea-" you could barely speak through the harsh fucking your pussy was enduring and the pleasure making your body numb, but your little mutters weren't enough for Jeonghan, as he picked up his pace even more.

He let out loud broken moans as he hammered his hips, wet smacking sounds echoing each time your hips met. "Tell me, do you think he'll ever be able to fill your little pussy up this way, hm?" He continued fucking you as hard as he could, striking your cheek even harder than before with his ring clad fingers, his fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth as he spit into your mouth.

The second you felt his spit hit your tongue, you moaned loudly, the taste of vodka making you drop into a hazy state. "N-no! No hannie, m-mhm, no one can fuck me like you, please" you begged stupidly, already cock drunk, before feeling him pull out, making you whine.

As you went to complain, you felt his hands manhandle your body, forcing you on all fours on the bed, one hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look in the mirror as he started fucking you again, somehow even deeper than before.

"Good girl, wanna cum on my cock, huh? Wanna cum on my cock and make your Hannie happy?" He asked with a smirk as he bit his lip, feeling himself get closer to the edge as he saw you slipping away because of how obsessed you were with the feeling of him balls deep in you.

You nodded and gasped as you felt his fingers circling your swollen clit, making you hide your face in the bedsheets. "Yes, pleasepleaseplease! Hannie! I'm gonna cum, please- Fuck!" You cried out loudly as you came around his cock. The clench around him made him groan and cum deep inside your gripping pussy, throwing his head back and gulping when you pulsed around him, some of his cum dripping out of your pussy.

"Fuck, i guess i don't have to buy you a birthday gift anymore?" You said when you caught your breath, your voice still slightly air as you chuckled and felt him brush his fingers through your sweaty hair, pressing a kiss on your lower back while he giggled.

"Maybe if we go for round 2?" He smirked and looked at the clock on his bedside table, seeing that there were at least 20 minutes left before his birthday ended.

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yuukiiqwq · 10 months ago

Text

Our Blue Spring: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Time stopped for you that day. That day where all four of you are laughing together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.

Tags/Warning: Fem!reader, Teen!Gojo, Reader is a jujutsu sorcerer, Fluff, Gojo in love, Gojo in denial, One-Shot

˚✧˚. Wc: 2.5k ˚✧˚.

"Shoko! I need help!" Satoru burst through Shoko's door. "I think I'm dying!"

Shoko turned around to face Satoru. She did not want to deal with his childish antics right now. It was 8am in the morning, and she was surviving on less than 2 hours of sleep.

"Gojo Satoru. I haven't had my morning coffee yet. Do not talk to me until I have my coffee. I am not ready for whatever thing you have to say."

Satoru put his hand on his chest and whined dramatically– "You wound me Shoko! I could be dying right now, and all you care about is coffee!"

"Please do. It would save everyone from your annoyance," Shoko sighs.

"I am not annoyi–"

"Just tell me why you think your dying when you're perfectly fine."

"Well–" Satoru quickly plopped down on Shoko's chair and leaned his head back. "Lately, my heart had been beating super fast and–"

"Out of nowhere?" Shoko interrupted.

"Well, no but–"

"So around someone?"

"Technically, yes, but will you–"

"Around who?"

Satoru huffed angrily and crossed his arm. "Will you let me finish first! It's like I'm being ignored here!"

Shoko ignored his comment and continued– "Around wh–"

"Nuh, uh! Let me finish talking first!" Satoru immediately interrupted. "So, as I was saying before, I was rudely interrupted."

Shoko rolled her eyes at his comment because Satoru always rudely interrupted people when they're talking.

"Lately, my heart always beat super fast around her, and my eyes always follow her around. I always want to see her smile and see her happy. Whenever I see her sad or hurt–" Satoru grasped his shirt tightly where his heart was and looked down– "My chest hurts. It feels like someone ripped my heart out, which is impossible since I'm the strongest!"

Shoko had an expression of shock before it turned into amusement.

"And who is this girl?"

"Y/N! She must have cursed me, right? She must be envious of how strong I am despite her always denying it! Shoko! Diagnose me! I'm sure I'm dying!"

Shoko couldn't help but laugh at this predicament.

"Why are you laughing?" Satoru pouted. "I'm dying, and you're laughing at me."

Shoko eyes sparkled in amusement and mischief.

"You're diagnosed with love."

"What?"

"Suguruuuuu!"

"No, Satoru. I don't want to listen to you complain about your crush for the 50th time today."

"I don't like her! I just–you know!" Satoru whined and made some weird hand gestures.

"Satoru. I swear to God, I will summon a curse right now to eat you. Ever since that day where Shoko diagnose you with love, you only talked about her, complained about how much you like her, how she doesn't pay enough attention to you and then denies it the very next second." Suguru sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can already feel an upcoming headache from this conversation.

"I don't like her!" Satoru whines again. "I don't like her just because my eyes follow wherever she goes. I just want to be close to her at all time! It's not my fault my heart and soul desires hers. It's not like I want her to be mine or anything! I don't like her like that."

"Satoru. You're contradicting yourself in every sentence."

"Excuse me? I am not!" He crosses his arms and starts to sulk.

"Are you guys fighting again?"

They both turned around to see you and Shoko carrying drinks.

"They're probably were being the idiot they are. Always fighting about the stupidest things." Shoko sighs and puts down the drinks on the table. "And they're the ones who made us go out and buy them drinks. I should be the one beating them up."

"Satoru was complaining about his crush again. This is like the 50th time today." Suguru grabs the newly brought coffee from the table. "Even coffee won't save me from this catastrophe."

"Geez Satoru, poor Suguru having to go through all that," you laughed. "When are you going to tell us who got you all whipped up?"

All three of them stared at you. Like stared at you.

"Why are you guys staring at me? I'm sure all three of us want to know who he likes since all he talks about is her."

"It's nothing to worry your pretty head about," Satoru says as he grabs his coma-inducing drink.

"You wouldn't understand since you're so oblivious to such obvious hints," Shoko said as she sat down and grabbed her coffee. "He's absolutely smitten by her, and the girl is completely oblivious."

This immediately causes Satoru to complain – "Excuse you! I do not give out obvious hints, and I absolutely am not smitten! I do not like her like that!"

What you didn’t notice during this time was how he kept sneaking quick glances at you. It's not like he can help it! You obviously had some dust on you, and it was bothering him!

"Why is she with Nanami!? I'm so much cooler than Nanami!" Satoru glares at you who is busy talking to Nanami. "Why isn't she spending time with me!"

At this moment, all Suguru wanted to do was to dump Satoru into the trash can. Shut the lid and hope that the garbage man takes him far away. Not that it will help since Satoru could teleport.

"For the love of everything nice, Satoru just confesses that you're in love with her. Stop being in denial. I'm going to lose my mind listening to you complain every day about the same thing."

Satoru huffed– "It's not love!"

"Satoru, listen. What if someone comes up to her and takes her away from you? What are you going to do?"

"That's such an easy question!" Satoru laughed. "I can use reversal red on them, duh! Even their ashes won't remain!"

"What if she likes them too? Or what happens when we lose her all together? You know being a sorcerer is dangerous," Suguru sighed.

That immediately stopped Satoru from laughing. The smile immediately wiped away from his face, and the light in his eyes dimmed. The expression on Satoru's face was fear? Uneasiness? For once, Suguru couldn't tell what expression was on Satoru's face. He couldn't figure out what he was feeling.

"Satoru?"

No response.

"Satoru," Suguru shaked his shoulder. "Satoru."

Saroru snapped out of his daze. A smile immediately reappeared on his face, and his eyes light up once more.

"Hm? What did you say, Suguru? You bored me so much with your rambling that I dazed off~"

"Satoru–"

Before Suguru can reply– "Satoru! Suguru!"

Both of them look toward the sound of your voice. You were dragging Nanami toward them.

"Ah, finally bored of just talking to Nanami?" Satoru laughed as he walked up to meet you halfway. He then put his arms around Nanami. "Nanami is quite boring compared to me after all~"

You stared at him and then frowned. "Satoru."

"Hm?" He hummed as he tilt his head to face you.

"What's wrong? You're acting stran–"

"Nothing is wrong," he immediately interrupted you, smiling brightly. "You're imagining things. Everything is fine, right Suguru?"

Your frown deepen. Something wasn't right.

Satoru felt like using reverse red. For all he knows, all he can see is red. Today was the day of the goodwill event, and there was this guy from Kyoto Tech who's putting his hands all over you. He felt like something was clawing his chest open. Sure, there is a rule of no killing, but surely they'll understand that his hand slipped, right? He just wanted to get rid of that weird feeling in his chest.

He then felt someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Jealousy is an ugly look, Satoru. You're going to stare a hole into that guy."

"I'm not jealous, Suguru. That guy just looks so annoying! He's annoying me by existing! I just think my hand is slipping, which might cause me to accidently use reversal red."

Suguru shakes his head in amusement.

"Whatever you say, Satoru. But she doesn't need rescuing Satoru," Suguru said as he pointed toward your direction. "Look."

They watched you as you elbowed the guy in the guts. The guy crumbled onto the floor, and you leaned down and said something to him before you noticed both of them. You immediately smiled and came up to them.

Suguru laughed as he ruffled your hair– "Ouch. That looks like it hurts a lot."

"He deserved it," you huffed. "He was annoying and being a disgusting pervert."

"Surely I can reverse red him, right? I mean, it's not like anyone will notice him gone–"

"Absolutely not, Satoru!" You quickly turned to look at him. "The rule of this event is absolutely no killing even if he's a creep!"

Satoru looked you in the eyes and then whined– "Fineeeee. No killing! Maybe a few broken bones or–"

"Satoru!"

The sun was setting, and when the goodwill event ended, the guy from earlier has seen much better days. He was covered in bruises, broken bones, and a few fractures. But it's ok! He's just an NPC that no one would care about, as Satoru claimed.

"See, I didn't kill him!" Satoru exclaimed as he waited for you to compliment him.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Good job, I guess."

"You guess?? How rude! I defended your honor!" Satoru complained.

"You saw me elbowing his gut this morning, Satoru," you replied, which led to Satoru to look away and sulk.

You laughed at his behavior before saying– "The sunset is beautiful today."

Satoru looked back up but not at the sunset. He looked at you. The way the light kissed your skin made you look beautiful. He felt his breath get taken away by your beauty. You were always beautiful to him. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

"Yeah. Absolutely beautiful."

After the goodwill event passed, Satoru was acting weird. Yeah, he's normally weird, but this was a whole different weird. Lately, he always seems to be in a daze thinking about something.

Today, you guys decided to go to the park to hang out, but Satoru was even more unusually quiet.

"Satoru! Earth to Satoru!" You called as you wave your hand over his face.

"Huh?" Satoru snapped out of his daze. "What's happening?"

"Shoko and Suguru went to buy some popsicles. You didn't answer them, so they said they'll make sure not to get you anything," you shaked your head and sighed. "We called you multiple times, but you didn't answer. What's on your mind lately? I'm worried about you."

Satoru bit the bottom of his lips and got up from the swing. He pushed you to sit down on the swing and held the chain with his hands.

"Satoru?" You tilted your head to the side in confusion.

He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes.

"I have something to say. I think I'm in love."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Satoru quickly continued.

"Don't say anything until I finish."

You closed your mouth and nodded. Satoru's cheek was dusted in a shade of light pink. You couldn't help but think about how cute he looked in this moment.

"You remember asking who I was 'whipped' up for? The one I always complain to Suguru about?"

You slowly nodded your head.

"It's you. It's always been you. My heart always beat uncontrollably fast around you. All my thoughts are consumed by you and only you. I want you to be happy. I want you to smile. I never want to see you hurt. I don't ever want to see you sad. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what life would be like without you and... it's hard to imagine. I feel like there's this hole in my chest when I imagine what life would have been like without you. Maybe I have been denying my feelings for a long time despite knowing that I was in love."

You notice how Satoru was trembling. He was scared.

"I'm scared. I'm scared of these new and weird feelings in my chest. I'm scared of love. I'm scared of the changes it will bring. I'm scared of the pain of losing you because I love you. I'm scared to lose you. I'm scared to imagine my life without you. But I want you to be mine. I love you. I love you so much that I feel like dying without you. Will you please date me? Go on a date with me? Let me court you? Be my girlfriend? Let me call you mine? Please?"

You were beyond surprised. You didn’t expect him to confess to you out of everyone. You definitely didn’t expect him to pour out all his feelings either. But it was a pleasant surprise. You couldn’t help but smile gently at Satoru.

"Satoru." You said as you cupped his face.

He looks at you, eyes gleaming with anticipation and fear.

"I'll date you."

The second you said those three words, Satoru eyes light up with happiness.

"Really?" He asked as he took your hands off his cheek and into his own.

"Really."

Satoru immediately pulled you up from the swing, lifted you up, and spinned you around. He couldn't help but feel relieved that you agreed to date him. He felt extremely happy. He felt like he had the world in his hands, and in a way, he did. Because you are his world.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he laughed.

You couldn't help but laugh along with him. After all, he had the brightest smile on his face right now. He was radiating pure happiness. He gently put you back down onto the ground and leaned down towards you.

"I want to kiss you. May I? Or am I moving too fast?"

You smiled, leaned in, and wrapped your arms around his neck– "You may."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. When he leaned down and your lips gently connected, you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. A feeling of warmth spread across your body. It was like everything was perfect. Like it was meant to be. It felt just right.

When your lips parted, both of your cheeks were dusted with a shade of pink. You stared in each other's eyes for a moment before both of you crack a smile.

"About flipping time."

Both of you jumped and turned around to see Shoko and Suguru. Their eyes were sparkling, and they had a smirk on their face.

"You guys–" you started as you carried a massive blush on your face. "How long have you been there?"

"The whole time," Shoko laughed as she shook her head.

You looked down and then noticed that they hadn't brought any popsicles like they said they were going to.

"Man," Satoru whined and nuzzled against you. "You guys totally set this up, didn't you?"

A moment of silence passed before you let out a laugh. Your laugh caused Satoru to start laughing as well. Which ended up with all four of you standing there laughing.

In your mind right now, time stopped. All four of you together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.

Author's note: I struggled a lot with deciding the ending... I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I also originally planned for a sad ending. After going back and forth for a while, I decided a happy ending with a tiny hint of angst. 🩵

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yuri-is-online · 2 years ago

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Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x yuu #deuce spade x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader

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steviewashere · 6 months ago

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Steve and Eddie being teenage boys (even in their twenties, even though they technically are no longer teenagers), a list that I've been making in my head (some of them are stupid and some of them are sweet, but this is a long list, be warned):

Steve teaching Eddie how to burp the alphabet after drinking soda. He's phenomenal at it. Like...almost disgustingly so. It ends up turning into a one up competition pretty fast after that.

Eddie who knows how to drag race and takes Steve on ridiculously fast drives down empty streets at night (when Steve's had a terrible night). He steps on the gas and goes: "Weeee!!!" as they speed. (Please don't speed. It is dangerous. But for the sake of entertaining their pea brains, this is what they do.)

Eddie and Steve who have been participating in a several month long tagging game. They slap each other on the back of shoulders as hard as they possibly can before skittering off like a little goblin.

Steve and Eddie think it's soooo fucking funny to blow up condoms like balloons when they're stoned.

Steve and Eddie who get stoned and they go shop for munchies at the local grocery store, both hysterically giggling at figuring out how to be "normal" people in public. (They are failing miserably.)

Steve who makes Eddie play basketball with him sometimes. And then he purposefully tosses the ball at Eddie rather than the basket. It devolves into wresting in the grass, heads in elbows, knuckles across scalps, kicking each other in the shins.

One time, Steve falls asleep at Eddie's on the couch. And instead of being all sweet and doting, Eddie finds a marker and draws a penis on Steve's face. He gets water poured on his head the next time he falls asleep at Steve's as payback.

Steve and Eddie comforting each other through nightmares and hardships and healing injuries, both in sort of constipated, mumbled ways. Pats to the back and leaning in close to each other, resting heads on shoulders. Passing cigarettes or beers back and forth just to pass the time, not really talking. Exchanging words afterwards like, "You're a great friend," and "You're the best person I know." Because they both need that and recognize that, even outside of the petty, childish things they do to each other.

Eddie, who understands that the pool at Steve's is a sore spot, instead of prodding them to get in, he plans out a whole water balloon fight to stave off the summer heat.

Steve, who knows that music has been a source of calm for Eddie over the years, makes sure there's always a cassette that Eddie can play in case it gets too quiet.

Eddie and Steve who shit talk each other in the arcade, beating each other's high scores if only to rile the other one up.

Steve who always checks Eddie's ID before he goes into the adult only room in Family Video. Despite knowing that Eddie is definitely over the age of eighteen. Sometimes he denies Eddie entry in front of Keith just to make him pout. (He thinks it's cute.)

Eddie and Steve watching porn together, criticizing the moans the entire time because they know for sure it's fake. And on the same note of moans, Eddie who gets a call from Wayne and Steve fake moans in the background the entire time. Steve gets a call from his parents and Eddie shouts really loud in the background for Steve to pass the joint back. They just glare at each other before getting in another tag fight throughout wherever they're at.

Eddie who goes into Family Video after Steve strikes out again. Who just walks up to the counter and starts acting like one of those girls, twirling his hair and pouting his lips and blinking his eyes, making his voice high pitched. (It gets Steve to giggle instead of pout, so Eddie calls it a win.)

Eddie guzzling an entire can of Coke and then spraying it out of his nose when Steve makes him laugh too hard. Steve's never made anybody laugh that hard.

Steve and Eddie who claim it's not gay to make their boners kiss. I mean...what? Who said that?

Steve and Eddie who play-punch a little too hard when playing punch buggy on vacation.

Speaking of vacation, Steve and Eddie going to a beach over the summer. They chase each other up and down the sand. They roll off of the sand hills. Eddie buries Steve in the sand and applies sunscreen to his face as he just accepts his fate. Steve helps Eddie make a sandcastle, a secret talent of his being how structurally sound he can build one.

Steve and Eddie playing with Legos while talking shit about Family Video customers. They toss Sour Patch Kids into each other's mouths as they talk. Sometimes hitting each other in the face purposefully.

Steve and Eddie who get drunk one night and go catch a wild possum. Robin screams at them to put it back because, "No, you dinguses, that is not a cat!"

Eddie and Steve taking care of each other on bad pain days. Trying to entertain the other with stupid jokes or shitty movies or gossip.

Eddie sharing his uncle with Steve when he finds out that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington are terrible motherfuckers. Who makes sure Steve is comfortable in his home around Wayne.

Steve conspiring with Wayne to make sure that Eddie always has the best birthday parties. Because the one thing he really held onto from his King Steve years was how to throw a small get together, and how, especially, to make it extremely awesome and memorable.

Steve who gets Eddie new albums he's been eyeing for his birthday. Ones Eddie knows he'd never be able to afford on his own, always a little sullen when he looks at the price. Steve who still has access to his dad's credit card and will max it out just for Eddie to get his fill.

Eddie makes homemade things for Steve's birthday. Cards and trinkets and drawings—things Steve's old high school buddies never considered as gifts, even though they have the most impact on Steve, even though they matter the most.

Steve and Eddie who love each other, insurmountably. Despite sometimes being major buttheads to each other.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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alchemistc · 6 months ago

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eta: based on my spiral in the tags of this post

Tommy's quiet as Buck nuzzles his nose into his neck, fingers stretched wide against Buck's back, rubbing absentmindedly.

Buck tilts his gaze up. He's staring at the ceiling.

There's nothing wrong with a little ceiling staring. Buck is actually a really big fan of ceiling staring, when needed, but Tommy's been so good at being a sounding board when Buck needs it, way better than the silently judgey rafters, and Buck wants to return the favor.

"What're you thinking about?"

Tommy hums, lifting his head just a bit, the skin under his chin wrinkling like a shar-pei.

His hand slides up, down, palm lifting so he can swirl his fingers a bit.

Buck's always been a big fan of cuddling, but there's something extra sweet about Tommy's version of it - skin to skin, even if it's just rucking up Buck's shirt so he can get a hand in there, arms and legs all tangled up in each other, his hand always drawing aimless patterns. Buck's getting too used to it - had caught himself pouting, a little, the last time Tommy hugged him in a rush out the door and didn't do the little circular motion against the small of Buck's back that usually indicated when a hug was over. He's a little worried someone else is gonna hug him and he's gonna melt into it, tuck his face into someone inappropriate's neck.

"Eddie asked me something earlier, and I didn't have a clue how to answer it."

Buck tips his chin against Tommy's chest, a little eager at the idea of providing answers. Tommy knows how much he likes that.

"What about?"

"About you." He pinches at Buck's side. "Us, technically."

Oh. Well. Buck doesn't have facts and figures and statistics about that. Yet.

He hums.

"He wanted to know why I don't call you Buck."

"Do you two talk about me enough for him to notice that?" He's pretending not to be pleased about that. He's doing a shitty job, but still.

Tommy blows out a breath, hands drifting down, over the hem of Buck's briefs to squeeze. "You are one of the things we have in common. It's not all shirtless men beating the crap out of each other and trauma bonding over enemy gunfire," he says, wry, fingers sliding over Buck's ass and around to his hip, no real intention in the motion, just touching to touch.

And that's - oh that's kinda nice. The idea of that, just being a shared interest between them.

"I didn't know what to say," he continues, like he can't see Buck really fucking enjoying the idea of being a topic of conversation between his boyfriend and his best friend. "You introduced yourself as Evan. You've never corrected me, so - I didn't see a reason to change it up."

Buck grins, a little bashful. "Yeah. It took me a while to figure out why I did that."

Tommy raises a brow, hands still wandering as he waits for Buck to expand on that.

"Buck was a work thing, to start," he tells him, still working his way through it, because he's only recently considered exactly why he'd never told Tommy to call him Buck. "And then the 118 kind of became my family, and Buck - it just felt like Buck was who I was. The person I wanted to be. Evan was just - the guy I was before I found my people." Tommy's hand sweeps over his back. "And, like - I never hated that guy. Evan. He was just - he was just there, in the background. People only used it when they had something serious to say." Except his parents, but that - that's not the point he's trying to make, anyway.

"Good serious or bad serious?"

"Just - important. Something - something that needed both of those parts of me to be present in the moment."

Tommy hums. "So when we met, and you introduced yourself..."

"I think I was just trying to manufacture some intimacy." Buck admits, like he hadn't spent a ceiling-staring evening of his own figuring out this exact thing. "Get you to call me sweetheart right out the gate."

Tommy's eyes go soft and sweet. Buck never means to do this, give Tommy all these chick flick moments of introspection, but when they stumble into his lap he can't deny the little thrill that races up his spine at the sight of Tommy tucking them away. Tommy's hand settles between his shoulder blades, fingers spanning wide. "I'm not telling Eddie that," he teases, and Buck nips at his arm in retaliation.

#bucktommy #bucktommy ficlet #expanding on my tags i'll link the post when i'm not on mobile

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nsharks · 1 year ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 9 days ago

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where finding how you fit is a little like a puzzle-the 100,000 piece kind, not the 100 piece kind. or The twenty-seventh installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel series

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!Pack, Pack!Prequel, Skz!Pack Prequel, ABO, A/B/O, Omegaverse, Series, OT8, Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Han Jisung, Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin, Fluff, Angst, Skz imagines, Skz scenarios, FemReader

Genre: Light Angst, Fluff

A/N: I'm back! Sorry guys, I know it's been SOOOOO Long and yall have probably forgotten/given up on me, but I had to take a little sabbatical to keep my head above water in real life. But I've been here! Stalking and reading and checking comments and reblogs and messages. I love yall! <3 Thanks for being so patient with me!

Title: Call Me Anything at All, Just Don't Call Me Yours

“Dude, your fucking beta is killing me here.”

You glance up as Jisung joins the cafeteria table, plopping down between Changbinn and Hyunjin, clearly frustrated about something, his voice a plaintive whine.

Changbin’s brow creases in slight confusion. “My beta? What, you mean Seungmin?”

“Who else would I be fucking talking about?” Jisung grumbles, shooting a glare in the alpha’s direction, as he rips open the packet that contains his silverware with a little more force than necessary.

“You, technically.” Felix points out helpfully from further down the table, giving Jisung a slightly teasing grin.

“Yeah, ha ha, I’m killing myself, real funny, Lix.” Jisung mocks back, though his tone softens a little as he addresses the omega, because that’s just the effect Felix has on everyone.

Jisung turns back to Changbin, slapping his palms down on the table. “But seriously, he’s weird as shit. Hot and cold all the time, man. I don’t ever know where I stand with him-not really-kind of like with Minho-hyung.”

Beside you, Minho snorts softly. “Please, you’re always on thin fucking ice with me, Han Jisung. You know that.”

Jisung shoots Minho an annoyed look, but continues badgering Changbin. “You gotta tell me the secret to crack the code, hyung. One second, I think we’re friends, the next, the guy barely has two words to say to me.”

Changbin gives a slight shrug. “That’s just how Seungmin is.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, trust me, Sungie, Seungmin is a tough nut to crack. We’ve been friends for a long time-study partners for longer-and there’s still days I think he’d rather murder me than be sat across the table from me. He’s hard to read, he keeps his feelings close to his chest.”

“He’s also a slow mover.” Changbin points out. “Really takes his time to think things through, all the pros and cons, before he acts.”

Minho snorts again, not looking up from his food. “Maybe he’s deciding the cons list is longer than the pros when it comes to being packmates with you, Jisung.”

“Plus, he’s not all that affectionate. Skinship is kind of a struggle for him.” You remark thoughtfully, an observation you’ve had the longer you’ve gotten to be around Seungmin as a packmate, and not just a library buddy.

He really only lets Changbin touch him openly. Maybe it’s a side effect of the whole moonmate thing.

Biology.

Jisung takes a swig of his soda and considers for a moment, furrowing his brow. “Well, have you guys been-” He clears his throat, motioning slightly with his hands in a flapping motion toward Changbin. “-you know, intimate?”

You clear your throat at that, interjecting, trying to save Changbin the embarrassment of answering that question. “Intimacy can be a lot of things, Jisungie, you know, like when you and I and Seungmin showered together, or when Chan scents us, or trusting someone enough to talk to them about difficult subjects-” Hyunjin leans around the beta and stares directly at Changbin now. “No, he’s asking if you’ve fucked.”

Down the table, Chan chokes on his food, and Jeongin openly covers a cackle with a well timed cough.

Next to you, Minho mutters beneath his breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Changbin clears his throat hard, and you note the tips of his ears going a bright red. “Well, yeah.” He gives a shrug, as if it’s not a big deal, but the way his muscles stiffen tells you he’d rather be anywhere but here right now, talking about this.

“You don’t have to talk about this, Bin-” Chan starts softly, shooting Jisung a warning look that practically screams head alpha.

Changbin waves him off, and Chan’s hackles visibly relax a little.

“He likes you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Changbin assures Jisung, throwing an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair with a large hand. “All of you. He’s just a little more cautious when it comes to showing it. With me, there’s the weird biological pull of moonmates or whatever, but with the rest of you, you just gotta be patient. But he likes you. He’s told me.”

Jisung sighs, relaxing slightly at the alpha’s touch. “Fine. As long as there’s hope that one day we can fuck in your studio, I can live with that.”

Changbin removes his arm so quickly from around the beta’s shoulders that it’s like he’s been burned. “Please don’t do that.”

Jisung shoots him a wink. “No promises.”

“Apparently he’s into degradation in bed if that makes you feel any better.” Hyunjin remarks offhandedly, picking at his salad with his fork. “You probably couldn’t handle that anyway.”

Changbin chokes a little, glaring over Jisung’s head at the luna. “Hyun, you promised me when I told you that in confidence-” Changbin’s voice drops to a hiss. “-that you wouldn’t talk about it!”

Hyunjin gives a slight shrug, glancing around at everyone’s stunned reactions. “What? There’s no secrets in the pack right?”

Jisung’s jaw is on the floor.

“He what?”

“Oh my god.” Chan groans from down the table, fingers already kneading between his brows, staving off an oncoming headache. “This is not appropriate lunchroom conversation-”

“Okay, okay.” You wave your hands. “You’re gonna give Chan an aneurysm. Let’s table the kink talk for a more private time and location, okay?”

“Hah.” Jeongin snorts softly. “Table.”

Minho elbows him hard.

******

You’re watching Jisung practice something on his skateboard in front of the dorms-a kickflip maybe? You can’t remember what he called it-chin in hand, open textbook unread in your lap.

“Shit.” Jisung swears as the skateboard clatters away from him once more, and he sighs, tucking it under his arm and coming to sit down beside you on the cold concrete of the steps.

He bumps his shoulder into yours. “Why the long face?”

You glance sidelong at him, wrinkling your nose slightly. “I don’t have a long face. I’m just thinking.”

He arches a brow. “Okay, so what are you thinking so deeply about then?”

You sigh, running a few fingers over the page of the textbook in your lap, considering for a brief moment. “I was thinking about Seungmin.”

“Ah.” Jisung nods, tilting his head slightly. “What, about the fact that he’s into being called shit in bed? Because I for one did not see that coming.”

“No!” You say a little too quickly, cheeks heating even despite the cool nip of the air. “No.” You repeat, a little more levelly this time. “Just-about how I relate, to what you said. I never really know how he feels about things.”

Jisung leans back on his hands beside you, staring out at the campus for a moment. Finally, he says, “Yeah, he’s kind of a weird dude, huh? I mean, I know he’s into Changbin, but I don’t really know if he’s that into the whole idea of the pack.”

You glance sidelong at the beta sat beside you, and you note the way he bites his bottom lip, fingers drumming along the skateboard held in his lap.

“I was kind of excited to have another beta around.” Jisung admits a little softly with a sigh, glancing down at the chipped orange paint that adorns his nails currently, courtesy of Hyunjin. “I dunno, until I moved to university, I never really spent a lot of time around others like me. And it’s nice, the dorms and the friends, but there’s something about having a potential packmate who just gets it that’s comforting, you know?”

You nod, reaching out to put one of your gloved hands over his. “Yeah, I do. I know you’ve been through a lot, with the whole beta thing, and I was hopeful Seungmin could help you through some of the stuff you’re still dealing with.”

Jisung gives you a slight smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t quite reach his large dark eyes. “I don’t even know if the guy likes me, noona, or if he just puts up with my company because of Changbin.”

You sigh, glancing down at where your gloved fingers rest over Jisung’s chapped, red ones. “Well, at least he didn’t straight up tell you that he didn’t feel like that about you. That’s something.”

Jisung snorts. “That’s because I didn’t ask like you did.”

You swallow. “Yeah, well, I’m an idiot.” You huff out, glancing over at him and it’s your turn to give him the hint of a smile that doesn’t quite feel completely real or genuine. “I mean, I told him I loved him, and he didn’t say it back. So maybe his feelings really haven’t changed.”

Jisung gives a slight shrug, and then knocks his shoulder into yours once more. The smell of detergent is strong in your nose, as if his beta is subconsciously trying to put out pheromones to soothe your obviously agitated alpha.

“Hey. You said it yourself-the guy’s an enigma. We just gotta give him the time and space to figure it all out on his own.”

You sigh, long and hard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Jisung leans his head on your shoulder, and you bury your nose into the soft knitted fabric of his beanie, breathing him in for a lingering moment.

He squeezes your fingers. “If it’s any consolation, I said it back, remember? And it’s still true.”

You give a little laugh at that, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

You squeeze his fingers back in return, and then nudge the round, reddened apple of his cheek with your shoulder with a slight hint of a smile.

“Now c’mon, that kickflip of yours isn’t gonna learn itself.”

******

“I dunno, maybe I’m pushing too hard. Putting expectations on everyone that are unrealistic.”

Yeosang glances over at you, breaths coming in harsh little pants in the cold morning air, his hands on his hips as he walks a few loose circles around where you stretch.

“Betas are tricky. When Mingi joined the pack, I swear to god, the hyungs almost drove themselves crazy trying to figure out what he was thinking.”

He drops down beside you on the sidewalk, leaning over to stretch out one long arm along the line of his leg, before he switches to the other side effortlessly.

He’s barely panting from our run, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the early morning rays of weak sunlight.

You blow out a breath, leaning your head back slightly to stare at the sky. “Jisung is losing his mind. He had this whole grand vision of what having another beta in the pack would mean, and Seungmin’s just-” You hesitate, considering for a moment, before you sigh again. “-not that.”

Yeosang’s gaze flicks over to me, and he makes a little sound of understanding under his breath. “Mm. Yeah, when we all study together, I can tell the kid’s a little harder to read than most. Even for a beta.” He shifts, coming to his feet again as he rolls his ankles a little, then his arms and his neck, glancing down at me. “But he seems nice. And he seems to be into Changbin, so that’s a plus.”

“That’s the thing though-” You admit, standing up too now, rolling your shoulders for a moment, before you tuck your earbuds back into your pocket. “-he likes Changbin, but does he like the rest of us?”

Yeosang moves to stand in front of you , reaching up to push some loose strands of hair back from your jaw with a long finger, chilled from the morning air. He gives you a slight smile. “Wolves aren’t solitary creatures, babe. You know that. And with how smart Seungmin is-and how obsessed with biology-he knows that too. Just give him some time to warm up. It’s probably overwhelming, especially for a seemingly solitary guy like him.”

You groan. “Fuck, you’re right, but do you have to be?”

Yeosang chuckles at that, moving to bump his shoulder into yours as you turn to follow the sidewalk back toward campus and the bus stop.

“Yes. It’s one of my many talents.”

You arch a brow at him. “Being right?”

Yeosang grins. “Never being wrong.”

You roll your eyes and elbow him in the side. “They’re the same thing, idiot.”

He laughs in response. “Trust me, they’re really not.” You walk in silence for a few moments, shoes scuffing the concrete, hands tucked into the pockets of your jackets, and then Yeosang asks, “Have you tried talking to him about all of this?”

You scoff a little, shaking your head. “No, because what the hell am I supposed to say?” You move to walk in front of him, taking backward steps as you face him, pitching your voice into something akin to a fake version of your own. “‘Hey, Seungmin, weird question, but like, are you into us? Also, just wondering, but have your feelings changed about me? Oh, and Jisung would really like to fuck you, but he’s nervous you don’t even really like him, and by the way, Changbin totally told everyone you like to be degraded in bed.’”

Yeosang’s eyes widen at that last part, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Wait, really?”

You wave him off. “Yeah, well, technically Changbin told Hyunjin, who told everyone else, but that’s beside the point.”

Yeosang whistles beneath his breath as we continue to walk. “Shit. Okay. Didn’t see that one coming, but good for him.”

His tone is laced with slight surprise still, but mostly just open admiration and appreciation.

You pull your phone from your pocket and glance at the time, groaning slightly. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m late for a lab and then I have a study session at the lib.”

Yeosang arches a brow at that, a slight smirk coming to his full lips. “Oh, with you know who?”

You stare him down, expression and voice deadpan. “No, I am not meeting Voldemort, The Dark Lord, for a study session, Sang. That’s just stupid.”

Yeosang rolls his dark eyes, reaching out to shove you, but you dodge the halfhearted attack easily.

“I’m talking about a certain beta.”

“I know that.” You retort back, rolling your own eyes now. “Besides, even if Voldemort went here, he’d never be in the sciences department. Probably like arts and humanities or something.”

“Or dance.” Yeosang points out thoughtfully.

His suddenly wide eyed gaze meets your own, his mouth in a small ‘o.’

“Minho.” You both say together.

Yeosang grins as you both laugh, reaching the bus stop. He bumps his shoulder into yours once more affectionately, as you separate to take different buses.

“Good luck with your study session, babe.” He points a stern finger in your direction. “Talk to him.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll consider it. Say hi to Voldie for me when you pick up Hwa, will you?”

Yeosang’s grin widens as he gives you a little salute. “Will do.”

*****

“You’re staring again.” Seungmin comments without looking up from the page he’s working on, his pencil scratching rhythmically in the quiet of the library.

You clear your throat, dropping your eyes back to your own textbook. “What? No, I’m not-”

Seungmin sighs, shutting his notebook, and pushes his glasses up on top of his head as he angles to face you, expression unreadable.

“All right. Out with it.”

You’re taken off guard, glancing up at him in a slight panic, like a deer caught in headlights, eyes going wide as your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally manage to choke out, “Out with what? I’m good. Fine even.”

Seungmin snorts at that. “You haven’t stopped rereading that same page for the last half an hour. And I’m pretty sure you’ve been studying me more than anything else.”

“Plus your scent is all wacked out.” He says with a slight wrinkle of his nose. “Even my limited faculties can tell that much.”

You sigh, glancing down at the open book in your lap before you close it and set it aside, tapping your pen along the table for a brief moment as you consider how to word what you want to say.

Finally, you get out softly, “Jisung is worried.”

Seungmin’s brow ticks up a bit at that. “About me?”

You give a slight shrug, not really looking at him, gaze on the pen flicking between your fingers. “I guess? He’s just worried because he doesn’t really know how you feel-” You glance at him then, and then away again. “-none of us do.”

The eyebrow goes up another notch. “How I feel? About what?”

You sigh, a slight sound of frustration now. “About everything? About him, about us, about the pack, about-” I throw a hand out. “-all of it.”

You tap the pen down a little harder than necessary to punctuate the end of your sentence. “In case you haven’t noticed-” You point out in a mutter beneath your breath. “-you’re not the easiest guy to get a read on.”

There is brief silence for a moment, and then Seungmin admits quietly, “Yeah, I know.”

You flick your gaze up to his then, and see a hint of vulnerability in the depths of his dark eyes before he reaches up and scrubs across his face with the palm of his hand.

“Look, (Y/N)-” He says on a sigh, and you tense up, preparing yourself for what he’s about to say next. Judging by the slight hint of burnt bitterness that now mars his orangey citrus scent, it’s probably not going to be what you want to hear.

Great, can’t wait to break the news to Jisung that the only other beta in the pack doesn’t even wanna be here.

Seungmin smooths his palms on the table in front of him, staring at the pages of notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. “I know there are expectations. I knew that coming in. I know Jisung has expectations especially, and from what he’s told me about his past and how his parents wanted an alpha for a son, and all the struggles he went through as a beta to try and fit in, I don’t blame him. But I-”

Seungmin gives a little shake of his head, and his gaze meets yours once more, lips pulled into the hint of a thin line. “I never went through anything like that. I was a beta, born into a family happy to be betas, and I never even thought twice about it. Never felt like I was somehow lacking, or less than, because it was all just biology. Nothing more. So I don’t really know how to-” He hesitates, seeming to struggle with his thoughts for a moment.

“-relate.” You finish for him softly, and he gives a slight jerk of a nod.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “But I’ve found I’ve had that problem all my life, not just with Jisung, not just with this, with everything.” He gives a tiny shake of his head, and a humorless sardonic smile curves his lips in the slightest way. “I don’t know how to relate to people. I never have. Maybe I’m missing some integral part of my own biology, because I know better than anyone that wolves are not loners, they’re pack oriented, but I’ve always always preferred to be alone. A lone wolf, I guess you’d say.”

You study him for a moment and then you say softly, “There’s nothing wrong with that, Seungmin.” He heaves a sigh and leans back, staring up at the ceiling above us. “I guess not, but I guess, what I’m trying to say is-” He glances at you, expression going flat. “-I don’t know how to let you all in to understand me, if I don’t even understand myself.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you reach out and cover one of his hands on the table with your own. “Hey.” When he looks at you, you give him the hint of a smile. “We’re all figuring this shit out, just the way you are.”

He blows out a breath through his nose, almost like a sardonic sort of laugh. “Yeah? Well, you guys seem to have shit pretty figured out from my viewpoint.”

You shake your head. “We don’t, trust me.” Your lips curve slightly as you stare at him, holding his gaze. “We’re a mess, we’re just pretty good at hiding it. Well, most of the time.”

Seungmin stares at you for a long, silent moment.

“I want to be what Jisung needs.” He finally admits, so softly it’s almost just a breath. “I want to be what Changbin wants. I want to be-” He blows another harsh breath out through his nose and drops your gaze. “-pack, but I’m just not sure where to begin. This is all new territory for me, and while I’m all about new discoveries in the scientific fields, my personal life is another matter entirely.”

You give a little laugh at that, and note that he hasn’t pulled his hand back from your touch yet.

That’s a good sign.

“You don’t have to have it all figured out today. Just one step at a time.” You encourage softly, leaning down so you can meet his ducked gaze. “You can do that, right?”

Seungmin sighs, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.” You sit back and blow out a breath, glancing down at your study materials spread out before you. “Now I don’t know about you, but I can’t study anymore tonight or I might go blind.”

Seungmin nods, surprisingly, and begins to pack up his materials.

After another brief moment of silence, he asks suddenly, “What about you?”

You shove another handful of pens and papers into your backpack without looking up. “What about me?”

Seungmin makes a noise that clearly signifies he thinks you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you can feel his annoyed stare burning holes in the side of your head.

“You know, don’t you wanna know how I feel about you? Now that I’ve had some time?”

You freeze, swallowing, and then force yourself to resume your previous activities of packing up and getting ready to leave.

“I mean, not really. I figure you’ll tell me that when you’re ready.”

Lies.

You wanna know so bad it’s driving yourself and your wolf crazy.

You busy yourself with lining up your highlighters back in their designated case, just so your antsy fingers have something to do.

“You know-” Seungmin states suddenly, voice even, tone neutral. “For a long time, I thought I was asexual.” Your eyes jerk up in surprise to meet his own, lips parting slightly.

“You don’t have to-”

He waves you off, pulling his glasses off his head and carefully folding them to stow in their case as he talks.

“No, it’s fine. I want to.” He glances to you then, a slight smile curving his lips. “I’m supposed to be pushing myself right? Opening up so you can get to know me better?”

You swallow and give a slight nod.

“You know, the whole lone wolf thing from before? I didn’t really ever feel the need to be involved with anyone like that. Didn’t think I needed it, felt complete without it. And then-” He sighs, and a slight flicker of annoyance crosses his pretty features. “I met Changbin.”

“Changbin.” You breathe in slight agreement, and your lips twitch upward a little at the other alpha’s name. “Yeah, he tends to have that effect on people.”

“Mm.” Seungmin nods in slight agreement. “So then, I thought, well, maybe it’s just biology, but maybe I don’t really want to be alone, not quite like that. But then I think-” He considers you for a long moment. “-I met you, and we became friends, and I liked your company, but then you asked me if I could ever like you like I liked Changbin.” You cringe slightly at that. “Oh god, can we just pretend that conversation never happened?”

“No.” Seungmin responds back immediately. He arches a brow. “It made me think you know. About myself. About what I wanted. It was good for me.”

“Glad to help.” You mumble back, your cheeks flushed slightly in an irritated sort of hot feeling blush.

“I considered that maybe, after you asked me that, that I was just into guys.” Seungmin admits in a softer sort of voice, but still matter of factly.

“Oh, so it’s my gender, got it.” You retort back, avoiding his gaze.

“No.” He shakes his head at that. “I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t really care about gender, not in the long run of things. I think I’m more into people themselves, their personalities, and how they handle mine.” “Great, so it’s just my personality then.” You blurt out, throwing out your hands now.

“No.” Seungmin repeats a little bit more firmly, sharper. “You’re not listening to me.”

You give a little sharp laugh at that. “It’s really fucking hard to listen to you when we’ve been studying shit that turns my brain to mush for the last four hours.”

Seungmin’s hand covers your own, and you freeze, gaze flicking to him, mouth slightly agape, words instantly dying off.

“I-” He says firmly, taking in a sort of shaky breath, his fingers still resting a little bit awkwardly on top of your own. “-like you. You, (Y/N). I like the way you make me feel accepted, I like that you listen to my ramblings about scientific findings, I like that you don’t push me to go further than I’m comfortable, and I like that we started as friends first, and you’ve given me time and patience to explore where this could potentially go. At my own pace.”

You stare at him for another beat and then, “I’m sorry. If what I said in the shower made you uncomfortable.”

His lips curve slightly at that, his nose wrinkling with the hint of a smile. “It didn’t. In fact, it kind of surprised me that I liked hearing it. Just-” He blows out a breath. “-give me some time to figure out my shit okay?”

You nod, curling your fingers around his own. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Seungmin nods, and removing his hand from yours, begins to move to pack away the rest of his things. “Now c’mon, I promised Jisung we’d be in time to watch a movie with him.”

You grin, standing up and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “It’s gonna be one of those cheesy action flicks he loves, you know that right?”

Seungmin sighs, but his voice is filled with affectionate amusement. “Yeah, I know.” He glances at you with a lift of his brow. “But anything for our boy, right?”

You grin back at him, knocking your arm into his as you walk. “Anything for our boy.”

As you walk down the stairs that lead out of the library, shoulder to shoulder, he slides his hand into yours.

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