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reverseexorcist · 9 months ago

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★ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 ★

Wow just realised this entire time my asks have been off woopsie ●_● Should be fixed now.

Anyway, since y'all went feral over this dynamic (and I can't blame you), here's more of Carmilla with her adopted fallen angel child.

I know I said part 2, but I'm honestly considering making this a sort've slice-of-life series seeing as I absolutely love this dyanmic and I'm having some serious brainrot over these two.

Part 1 ↫ Right Here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,662 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, somewhat depressed reader, minor mentions of gore, sleep deprived writing, potential ooc Carmilla, mother mode Carmilla increased

Getting used to your new life required more effort than you ever thought was ever needed. Getting used to living in hell was a chore in of itself, and quite a tedious one, and getting used to the new family you now found yourself surrounded by only piled on a tad more stress.

Unlike heaven, the land below was almost always swathed in some sort've darkness - There was literally no day night cycle at all and it was fucking with your head. Your poor circadian rhythm was completely thrown all over the place when three in the morning was just as bright at two in the afternoon. Not to mention the smoke ever present in the air. You weren't sure which you hated more between the two.

(Probably the air. You actually liked it when you breathed and didn't hack up a lung.)

It was a lot, especially when you were getting used to your new wingless life.

(Which sucked, by the way. Every time your fight or flight response kicked in, you found yourself straining your back muscles trying to lift off with nothing to support you and it made you want to cry every single time it happened.)

However, all of this was way better than what could've happened had Carmilla not saved your life. Your back still ached and the phantom pain still tortured you at night, the feather-fluff nubs of your old wings only served as a painful reminder. As much as you hated to admit it, often times you'd spend the entire night longing for the newly comforting touch of your adopted mother figure…

Wow. That felt weird to admit. That and a whole lot of other repressed emotions and memories.

You groaned and sighed, clutching your head and threading your fingers through your tussled bedhair. Your back muscles flexed, the sound of rustling feathers muffled by the mattress. The sensation was weird enough to make you 'gwak', roll on to your stomach and faceplant into your pillow. It was more natural that way, anyway - When one has wings it was rather difficult to sleep on your back, afterall, at least after your first growth spurt. You never thought you would miss the feeling, but you fought to find any silver lining in your new life. And in a world that was mostly shades of red, silver was quite a luxury.

Your somewhat depressing quiet time was broken by the gentle tapping of steel carefully approaching your room.

"Mi peque?" You didn't have the energy to jump, already having heard the delicate 'tink' of Carmilla's pointed shoes against the hardword floor of your new home. Her silhouette took up most of the doorway, the faint light spilling in from the hallway making the angelic steel decorating her body glow, much like the warm lull of her crimson eyes. Your head tiltied to the side to stare at her, but otherwise you made no movement.

She blinked once and ducked her head to step into your room. If you were, well, you from about a week ago, you probably would've been shitting bricks at the sight. It was lowkey terrifying, mostly because Carmilla was so much taller than you and had the expression of a constantly pissed off commander or something. However, it didn't scare you - Mostly because your worst nightmare had already come true.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was soft, something that completely contrasted her outward exterior. It was soothing, though, and you found yourself not caring when she settled herself on the end of your bed.

(Your new bed. Your new bed that you could, for once, comfortably stretch out on.)

"Something like that," You mumbled, practically whispered. Your eyes glowed much like Carmilla's, like a mischevious cat from your spot hidden under your multiple blankets. "It's, mm, weird. Sleeping by myself."

Her eyebrow quirked, a silent invitation to continue if you wanted to. Maybe? Emotions were still hard to read for you.

"Well, because I'm used to sleeping in the barracks with the rest of my platoon. It's apparently really comforting, seeing as I haven't had a good sleep since I got here," You grappled your blankets a little tighter, as if doing so would provide you with some sort've phantom comfort that you secretly longed for.

A breath of silence hung steadily in the air, as if both your minds were churning on what to say next.

"I'm sorry."

"M'sorry."

You both said at the same time, which seemed just a little cliche. Slinking out from underneath your covers, you couldn't help by eye the demon across from you warily.

"Why're you sorry?"

"Because, I'll admit, I'm a little rusty," She reached up and untied her buns, letting her hair loosen and tumble down her back. "It's been a while since my girls were young like you-" You scoffed, which prompted an amused smirk "And it's not like I know anything about taking care of an angel."

"Well, you're doing better than what they were doing up there," You blankly motioned upwards where the pearly gates shone brightly in the sky like a constant sun. "Plus, I'd say you're dealing with me as gracefully as you can."

"Elaborate?" Carmila carded her fingers through her hair, tilting her head curiously. The mountain on your shoulders threatened to stumble, and by god you were ready to let it fall.

"Well, it's not like any heaven-born has parents. Heaven was always all about equality and shit, and every single child was raised by the community. And yeah, it was all rainbows and crap because everyone was loved mostly equally, but it sucked because I was always just another nestling that someone had to keep an eye on," You brought your knees up to your chest. "That's why, when the lieutenant gave me her offer I didn't refuse, cause I thought 'wow, someone noticed me!' and it was a feeling I chased ever since."

It felt nice to let it all out for once. Not like anyone else around you back then really cared, cause they all went through the same thing.

Beside you, the covers rustled. Carmilla opened her arms wordlessly, minutely enough that if you didn't want to, you could probably brush the motion off as stretching. But, the warmth the she radiated was sorely tempting, and your little serotonin deprived brain was severly touch-starved.

Wow, four days into your new life, and you found yourself snuggling into the arms of one of Hell's overlords. And, sullying the lord's name, by god you loved it.

Not a single word had to be uttered between the two of you, not as long as you didn't want it. That was the silent message that you both clearly understood.

It kind've made you want to cry, if you were being honest with yourself. In a place that had seemingly been perfect, you found your life lacking, and in the burning pits of eternal damnation, you'd found yourself feeling loved for the first time since you could remember. The way Carmilla's hold around you grew tighter, just ever so slightly - A comforting weight draped across your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. That, along with her mellow breathing, it felt homely and nostalgic.

Tugging your blankets a little tighter around yourself, you didn't even fight the way your eyelids drooped.

Two weeks.

It felt like a lot longer, but you'd been living in hell for fourteen days, and it already felt like you'd been living here for months.

Well, it certainly didn't help that you never really left the main house. Like, ever. And you, for one, weren't complaining. The burning pits of Hell left much to be desired, and as a little angel who hadn't even had her first adult moult yet, you didn't really fancy going galavanting off around Hell, even if Carmilla was hovering over your shoulder like a helicopter parent.

Still, after the first week where you'd discovered and explored all the places that you were allowed to (the allure of the armory was great, but the potential wrath of an angry demon was greater), there wasn't really anything to do around the house. Sure, it was probably one of the safest places in the eternal firepit, but neither Carmilla nor Clara and Odette were ever really around, and it left you bored out of your mind.

Sprawled out across a rather decadent couch, soaking up the hellfire from outside, you found yourself wishing that something would happen that would hopefully prevent your mind from rotting further. But, if the big man from upstairs was paying attention, he surely must've hated you, because literally nothing was happening.

Unless…

You sat up, straining your ears.

Nope. Absolutely nothing.

You flopped backwards dramatically, back of your hand against your forehead and all.

Maybe, if you still had your weapon, you could've spent your time training or practicing or something. There was a training room somewhere in the house, and you weren't explicitly banned from using it, and it wasn't exactly a useless way to spend your time.

(At least that way you'd be able to get some reasonable exercise in rather than just moping around all day.)

Maybe that was something you could ask Carmilla later. She wasn't the type to be against learning self defense, however you had no idea if even she deemed yourself too young to learn how to fight. She certainly was not happy when she found out about how you were sent to fight with baby feathers still warming your wings, that was for sure.

At least you had something to talk about when she got home.

…

"You want to learn how to fight?" As expected, Carmilla didn't seem entirely thrilled at your idea.

"Not necessarily. Just, how to use weapons?" It was more of a question than an answer, but it seemed to ease the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What type of weapons? Swords? Spears? Firearms?" She fixed you with a look. "If you want to get started, the first thing you could do is be a little more specific."

Which was certainly not the answer you were expecting, so you took a few moments to blue screen.

"Well, I wasn't too fond of using spears… Swords don't sound to appealing either…" Your eyes started drifting, and soon you found that your real answer was right in front of you.

"If possible," You wrung your hands nervously, "could I use shoes like you do?"

Honestly, Carmilla's unique fighitng style had piqued your interest ever since your head became clear enough to notice. Having your hands free sounded more appealing than lugging around a heavy blade.

The demoness paused for a moment, completely silent as she studied you with a stern gaze. It wasn't negative or positive, if anything it was most likely calculative. You weren't entirely stupid, even if you were young, and you weren't naive. Carmilla was weighing the pros and cons of teaching you her trade.

"Why? They aren't exactly easy to use," That wasn't a no, at least.

"I don't like melee weapons, not hand-held ones at least," There was more to your answer that Carmilla already knew. Months of cycling through weapons till you landed on one you could somewhat use you realised that you absolutely hated using hand-held weapons.

Carmilla sighed, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Okay, but it's not like I have spare angelic steel laying around. We'll have to wait till I can melt more down," She mused, almost seeming excited about crafting you your own weapon. But her words only confused you more.

"But, we do, don't we?" You furrowed your brows.

"The steel in the armory is meant for prepaid orders-"

"I was talking about my old helmet," You hoped that didn't sound too rude, interupting her. "I mean, the entire thing is is technically angelic. I don't know if it's steel exactly, but I know for a fact it's just as solid!" Now you were the one musing.

Like mother like daughter, almost.

"We could certainly try…" The two of you shared a look.

"Like… Right now?" You prodded almost mischeviously.

Tired as she was, Carmilla couldn't help but falter and smile, your enthusiasm almost contagious.

"Well, we can have a look."

After that it was only a matter of days. Carmilla was far more invested in your new project than you had expected, and even Clara and Odette had briefly joined in, if only to get a sneak peak at the workings behind an exorcists helmet. For the briefest of moments, with all four of you crowded around a table with tidy plans sprawled all over its surface, it almost felt like you were a family. Which, did prompt a stray thought in your head.

After gently pulling the threads of angelic steel from the rivets in the helmet's horns, you couldn't help but bundle them to your chest. They weren't exactly big, nothing compared to the horns of a full fledged exorcist, but they were still something.

So, while your mo-… Carmilla was busy melting down the odd, almost obsidian material of your old helmet in preparation of your new shoes, you were busy tinkering away with your own little side project. Of course, it was hard to explain the various little burns marks littered across your palms that had started appearing, but that didn't deter you one bit.

In fact, during this time, you found yourself shyly approaching the taller of Carmilla's other daughters, Odette.

One thing about her that confused you was the fact that her horns were fake, merely attatched to the band that held her hair up. But right now, that was exactly what you needed.

It was a sweet sight, honestly, at least to Carmilla.

You were huddled against Odette, listening with rapt attention as she explained something to you, finger brushing against what was most likely some sort've plan.

With a smile, Carmilla got back to work.

At the end of it all, you were left with a pair of shoes similar to the overlord's. Pointed and shiny. Sharp and deadly, yet oddly comfortable. The only key difference was the colour - Forged from the scrapped glass of your old helmet, the shoes were jet black inlaid with threads of silver, trailing all the way up the ballet ribbons.

And with your shoes, a matching set of your own horns. Odette seemed proud at the sight of you with small, obsidian horns branching from your head, unable to stand still as you clutched your new weapons to your chest gleefully.

There was a massive learning curve to your new weapons, but at least you weren't bored around the house anymore. Most of your time over the next month had been dedicated to learning how to move around in your new shoes, building both the strength and balance so you could walk, let alone run. So many bruises had been blemished into your skin, but in the end you were able to walk almost as easily as Carmilla did.

(Of course, the demoness had way more experience under her belt, but you were still doing pretty damn well.)

And during that time, the bond between you, Clara and Odette had only grown. Sure, they were only around as much as their mother, but after donning your horns, it seemed whatever barrier that had been built between you and the sisters had been torn down. Seeing as the two could also walk en pointe like their mother, many a helpful tip had been shared from them which served to get you walking faster.

It was endearing as it was funny to watch.

But, being couped up inside all day everyday was starting to wear you down, which was certainly starting to show with the way your pep had slowed down significantly.

With a heavy heart, Carmilla finally unleashed you on the world outside, accompanied by Clara and Odette.

In reality, you were just tailing behind the sisters on one of their usual deliveries. This way you could stretch your legs and practice on terrain other than the smooth floors of your home, which, while it was more difficult, was learnt within no time.

As dreary as the place looked, there were certainly sights to see around ever different corner. You'd found yourself tempted to wander off every five minutes or so, especially when you passed by a rather bright looking… hotel? The entire vibe seemed friendly and inviting, unlike the rest of Hell, but you really didn't fancy getting lost, so sticking close by Clara and Odette was the most sane option in the moment.

Or, at least that was the plan.

Really, with your head on a swivel trying to grasp every sight and sound (which you regretted not a moment later) you'd lost sight of the sisters and found yourself completely by your lonesome.

Which… Fuck.

That wasn't the most ideal position, especially when you really couldn't do more than walk in your new shoes, but they couldn't have gotten far, right?

You were wrong. Turning either corners of the street yielded no Clara or Odette, which only made your heart sink further into your stomach because you really didn't fancy getting cornered in an alley.

Backtracking, you tried your hardest to think. Perhaps, if you could find your way back to the hotel, someone there could help you? It was wishful thinking, because this was Hell after all, but the aura was so different compared to the rest of the ring of wrath that maybe, just this once, luck would be on your side.

But of course, since this was you, luck was mercilessly right out of your reach. Not a moment later, a rambunctious howl pierced the air and a group - a pack? Of hellhounds started approaching you. Which, y'know, wasn't good, especially with the way their ears were pinned back and grins plastered across their faces.

Oh shit.

You started speed walking away, or your best attempt at it, in what you hoped was the direction of the hotel. Down in the streets without either of your guides, it all seemed like one continuous labarynth of red, LEDs and very questionable stores. And, as it turned out, lots of dead ends that you could easily get cornered in.

With the blood thrumming in your ears, heart pumping in your chest loud enough that it shook your head and just the general sense of 'oh shit I am so fucked', you really didn't pay attention to whatever the hounds were spouting off about. Lots of snapping of teeth and snarls, some crude gestures that made your gut twist anxiously and your feathers rustle nervously.

(You were seriously considering using a shoe as a knife. It wasn't like it was impossible with how sharp they were.)

At least, that was your train of thought. Until a resounding bang pretty much deafended you, echoing a chorus of ringing in your ears as the middlemost hound collapsed, head exploding with the force of the bullet that lodged itself firmly within the back of his disintegrated skull.

With dramatic timing, the others peered over their shoulders, only to be met with the towering, thoroughly pissed off form of Carmilla Carmine.

The barrel of her rifle was tinted with holy silver, but she seemed perfectly happy and prepared to behead them with a well placed kick. Whichever worked, you knew Carmilla prioritised your safety over the method of execution in the end. And in the end, the alley was scattered with various corpses in various states of limb loss, and you were carefully toted away in the arms of Carmilla.

She was furious. Probably. Maybe. You couldn't really tell. her face was completely stoney, and you were still awful when it came to identifying emotions. You assumed most of the anger had been taken out on the unsuspecting assholes that had cornered you. And for some reason, that only made you more anxious.

Not being able to tell what she was thinking was off. Back in Heaven, you could tell when Lute was pissed off, or proud, or indifferent, or whatever other emotion she was feeling at the time because she didn't really give two shits about what the recruits thought of her. And at least that way you could prepare on how to react. If she was angry, you knew to stay out of her way. If she looked indifferent, you knew you had to work harder in training. If she was proud, well, also best to stay out of her way so you didn't ruin her mood.

You whimpered and huddled a little closer. Carmilla clutched you a little tighter.

"Are you alright?" She finally asked once you were close enough to home that is was mostly just her employees around the two of you.

"Please don't be mad at Clara or Odette. It was my fault for getting lost," Was what you went with anyway. Carmilla shushed you gently.

"I'm not mad, I just want to know if you're okay."

Which completely threw you off. But you just went with it.

"M'fine. You got there before they could do anything," Those words seem to put her mind at ease, her shoulders visibly untensing as she exhaled a long sigh.

She hugged you, closer and tighter to her chest as if scared you were about to disappear from her hold. And you could only return the gesture, sinking into her comforting warmth. It made you feel small, almost like a little nestling on her first trip out of the nursery, but you found that you didn't really give two shits in the moment because you felt completely, wholly safe right where you were.

"Mi peque, mi querida, mi corazón," She uttered softly, "never wander from your siblings again."

Despite the firm tone, you could feel the care dripping from her words. You sighed and relaxed.

"Of course, mother."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

#carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla x reader #platonic #hazbin #hazbin carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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minisugakoobies · 2 years ago

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Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff Rating: M (18+) Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d Word Count: 6.5K Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️

Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel.

You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate.

Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity.

Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,” some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples.

Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan.

And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day.

It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles.

The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv.

“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”

“Sure it could.”

“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.

You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.”

Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping.

“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.

His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins.

So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho.

Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send.

Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate.

Ughhhh he’s so damn fine Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!

Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.

You’re a lunatic

He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats.

It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything.

At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.

“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out.

Your phone buzzes.

Trying to find my shirt

“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.

“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?”

“My tiger tank.”

You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones.

“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”

Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.

“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.”

“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?”

“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.”

Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.”

“Thanks.”

Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this?

You grab your phone.

I’m losing my mind

You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response.

What did Chan do now?

He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans

Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.

My mouth is literally watering It’s a Pavlovian response at this point I see denim and I start salivating

A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting.

Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?

“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.”

Thanks

“Chan!”

His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.

Seriously If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis

There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed.

“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?”

Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply.

Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!

As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.

It’s no choice.

“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?”

Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time.

Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out?

“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.

Chan cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”

“You’re thirsty?”

Fucking understatement.

You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone.

“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.”

He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.

“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow.

He does. “Wait, what?”

You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you.

“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?”

“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up.

“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?”

“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly.

Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’”

Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you?

“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.”

And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll.

You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words.

Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle.

“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”

You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”

But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles.

“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug.

It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go.

Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You’re so fucking confused. “I am?”

“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.”

You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.

“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?”

“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?”

“About your dick??”

Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…”

He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh.

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.”

His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips.

“You good?”

Funnily enough, somehow, you are.

“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you.

Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently.

“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.”

Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling.

You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.

The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?”

“If you - what?”

More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.”

“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.

“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to.

“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again.

As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.

“Are you not wearing a bra?”

You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.

“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.

“You too.”

He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach.

“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest.

“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.”

“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction.

You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.

“Can I touch, too?”

“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!”

He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth.

“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses.

Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again?

Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine?

Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.

Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting.

“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses.

“Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.

“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop.

You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun.

Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.”

“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?”

“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame.

“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly. He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them

For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker.

You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want.

While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you.

Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly.

“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.”

Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs.

“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.”

Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused.

While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild.

Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him.

“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”

Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”

You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern.

“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.”

Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down.

“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.”

He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you.

You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock.

“Do that again, baby.”

You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.

At the very least, it’s something to aim for.

Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.”

You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?”

You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”

You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.

Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.

Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”

You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.

“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”

With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.

Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats.

“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.

“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.”

“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”

Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.

“Yes, Channie.”

He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.”

He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over.

“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue.

You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal.

“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?”

At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more?

“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…”

Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you.

“Maybe a little slower?” you ask.

He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment.

And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.

Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place.

“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!”

Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening -

“Fuuuuck!”

With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth.

When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.

You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling.

Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times.

“I’m going to need a minute.”

He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.”

A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!”

You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.

It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over.

“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.”

“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?

Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.”

You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later.

Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:

@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #fic: coadm #bang chan fanfic

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aerialflight · 3 months ago

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fic rec list (in other words, i need a list for my neurotic brain and its obsessions, f me)

Yeah, everything said above. also, the deadpool and wolverine brainrot is real. i only watched it a week ago. nfeiwofpewafe.

[Deadpool and Wolverine] (i'm still desperately searching for more. i just need a list for the ones that won't leave me alone fyufivuohbjl)

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by fictionfeast

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson (i still can't believe this is the ship name, they actually put worst wolverine as a specification. it's such a unique dynamic and relationship that we NEED that differentiation. amazing.)

To pay for rent, Logan and Wade take odd jobs on Craigslist.

(listen, LISTEN. just from the fact craiglist is involved, you KNOW it's gonna be off the walls crack and hilarity. i swear, this fic went in directions i never in a million years would've predicted, it's amazing. the voices for these characters are impeccable and i, too, would like to shake deadpool like a snowglobe so some goddamn honestly will barf out. logan, you have my sympathies. please read, i'm literally going insane.)

shattered glass by anarkissed

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

At first, Wade is pretty sure it all starts with the bullet- the one Logan had held in his teeth and spit out like it was a prize. Or maybe it starts in the Honda Odyssey. Or maybe it had started way back with Logan's smile. That first sardonic one when they'd met. Or maybe it's the way Logan is always staring at him. Or maybe- "I think you're enjoying this too much." "Maybe you're not enjoying it enough." It’s more bite than kiss, more claim than caress, but it’s their mouths connecting all the same, and Wade gasps, hoarsely, as blood wells up from his lips and Logan tongues it away like it’s his god-given right. Oh, oh oh, oh- he’s crazy. He’s so crazy. Wade has never wanted anyone so badly in his entire life. Wade tries to figure out where whatever he has with Logan started. (And he's kind of hoping he never has to see how it ends.)

Part 1 of dying engine (poolverine/deadclaws)

(i'm not fucking kidding when i say this is my favorite d&w fic. i want to gnaw this in my mouth and develop vampire canines as i sharpen them every fucking reread. there are passages here that i reread like a fucking lunatic and i use the find in page option for the word 'crazy' just so i can go to my favorite part. and the fact there's a freaking part 2? that has logan's pov in it??? and it makes me feel just as unhinged??? it makes me want to go apeshit. please read. for the love of god.)

how easy you are to need by Patricia_Sage

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

Wade smiles when the doctor opens the door. "Hi, we have a vet appointment at 2:00. Please tell me he doesn't have rabies because I have been scratched and bitten plenty." *** Logan gets treatment for adamantium poisoning. Wade helps.

Part 2 of he has risen, babygirl

(i fucking CACKLED reading this, omfg. also, wade's version of helping is both sweet and freaking hilarious, i love this idiot so much. and this fic! addresses the fact logan probably has ptsd medical trauma and i love that. it's hardly ever addressed and i appreciate how it's shown here. also, it's a series! part 1 is great too, you don't need to read it to understand part 2 though, dw.)

Void by RovingOtter

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

After a week without contact, Logan leaves Wade a weird voicemail.

(i'm religiously checking in on this for updates. i know the summary doesn't say anything, so i'll say it here. logan becomes aware of the fourth wall and it's so fascinating??? a genuine look on what happens if the wolverine becomes aware that he's a fictional character and the exploration of that premise here is *chefs kiss* delicious. and how wade reacts to it and how they both deal with the aftermath of this development is so interesting and god, i NEED to know how this fic will go. genuinely one of those fics that have a premise i've never thought about before and it's GLORIOUS!)

where soul meets body by Edgebug

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

"I'll probably see you around?" "Probably not," Logan says, something in his spine still shaking even now, and Wade looks at him with those huge dark eyes that look--hurt, maybe, heartbroken, and Logan knows he has to get up and leave before he can't. Each step is agony increasing, the thing in his spine trembling ever-harder and then Wade calls his name and he stops, turns, sees those eyes again; pleading, desperate. A rush of emotion slams into his hindbrain, it feels half foreign and half his own; don't do this can't do this without you please stay please stay stay stay stay let me stay stay stay "Come home with me," Wade blurts out, and Logan finds that he's taken steps toward Wade without realizing it, closing the yawning gap between them, and the thing in his spine relaxes just a little. "Okay," he says. (In which something very interesting happens underneath the Time Ripper, and Wade and Logan deal with the aftermath.)

(they vulcan mind melded and now can't live without the other. i just love this author's writing and i read every one of their d&w fics. i'm in love with their characterization of not just d&w but the rest of the cast as well! and the banter and genuinely fun interactions between d&w has me kicking my feet and giggling like a school girl. please read, i totally recommend this fic and the rest of the author's other fics XD)

your fool in this game for two by abillionstars

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

“Have you ever lived with anyone before?” At Wade’s question, Logan pauses to think. Scratches his balls for a second, and says, “I lived at Xavier’s school for a while, before I left. Lived in a clapboard boarding house about seventy years back. A couple of times, I slept in a park with other people nearby. Do those count?” “That was a rhetorical question,” says Wade. “Some might even call it an accusatory one. Mostly because—dude. I’m a fucking mess. But you’re even worse.” (two loser loners, falling in love.)

(this is crack. the peak of romance, the very height of big squishy feelings. it's perfect. god, i am utterly trash for this fic, it's so fucking good fnewiofpew)

Love You All Over by FinelyDressedSpacemen

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

The bad guys have love spells now, apparently. Logan gets nailed. Wade tries not to. With great power over your sexiest friend comes great emotional responsibility.

(where wade tries his best to respect logan and logan makes this, so freaking hard for him lmao. lovesick logan is truly the most flirty version of wolverine and it's incredible. it's like if hugh jackman himself is trying to romance the shit out of you. wade really is the stronger person, incredible. anyway, this was a joy to read and if you like musicals, this is definitely for you <3)

I'm the worst at what I do by Thestarvedghost

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

Logan finds out from Wade after everything is said and done, universes saved and friends met, that most hims across the multiverse have some sort of memory issue, one way or another. Logan wishes he was that fucking lucky. He remembers it all.

Part 1 of No end and no beginning

(i recommend this entire series, the progression on d&w's relationship has me singing! it's so sweet and fluffy! well, as fluffy as 2 murderous, self-hating bastards can be anyway lol.)

[Dimension 20] (Fantasy High, A Court of Fey and Flowers, A Crown of Candy)

interchange by fangirl_squee

Fandom: Fantasy High

Oh, the Bad Kids? Yeah, in that group they have [checks notes] a pirate cleric, a goblin bard, a Helioic fighter, an elven barbarian, a tiefling rogue, and a half-orc wizard.

(it's so interesting how different yet the same the bad kids are even with their class changes. man, the idea of fabian being a freaking cleric still makes me want to cackle. he'd be so much more Exasperated by the bad kids, especially freshman fabian X'D. also barbarian adaine has my whole fucking heart.)

yeah you held me the whole way through, when i couldn’t say the words like you by zedif_y

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

When Fabian is ten, his Papa tells him the story of how he married his mother. It’s a gory tale, one that involves a cut eye and bodies hitting the deck. He tells Fabian of a love that sent him to his knees, that leads a man like him– fearsome and powerful, the greatest pirate to ever live– to start a family. A love that gave him Fabian. --- A study on Fabian, grief, and, ultimately— love.

(an exploration on fabian's idea of what love is. god, it's so well written. i love this fic and absolutely recommend it! <3)

white knuckles by thathastu

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ships: Fabian/everyone (but all unrequited)

His ex-fling’s little sister. Two people in committed relationships who also happen to be in the same mega famous rock band. A heartbroken lesbian who doesn’t want to be involved with men in any way. And Riz fucking Gukgak. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster, finds himself falling for all of his friends.

(seeing the bad kids through fabian's eyes made me realize why the bad kids would be considered attractive to people who know them! it's so sweet how much fabian cares and pays attention to them and the constant feeling of 'oh no oh no' both made me want to laugh and coo at him lmao)

life in a wallflower garden with my friends by sickoflosiingsoulmates for lesbiansweetflips

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ship: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth

This is what Ayda has spent her entire life searching after. This is what she built the friendship section in the library in hopes of, what she spent long, lonely nights dreaming of. A night with a friend, a true friend, laughing and talking about nothing in particular. [or, ayda finds friends in the bad kids]

(ayda has friends! ayda has frieeenndss!! i'm so so in love with her and this fic is so fluffy and sweet! gah, instant shot of endorphins, guarantee!)

allies and fealty, or, on finding the first knight of the new Court of Craft by fangirl_squee

Fandom: A Court of Fey and Flowers

Ship: Binx Choppley/Captain K. P. Hob

The enemy of my enemy is kind of my friend. Or something.

(i'm always a sucker for rare pairs and man, this is something i didn't even know i wanted. i love how slowly and carefully they build trust in each other, especially binx who is so secretive and initiated this relationship in the first place. by the end, i completely bought this ship and the potential for it.)

I've walked a fragile line and I've fallen down by jadeandquartz

Fandom: A Crown of Candy

Anger is burning in Lapin’s chest. It is bitter, and it is bloody, and it shines brighter than any Bulb the church might care to invent. Normally, he leaves his emotions be. He cannot afford to let feelings drive him forwards. Remaining logical is the only safe way to play the game of politics - and if you do not play it safe, you die. And if you die, then what was the point? But nothing about their predicament is normal. So, fuck playing the game safely. Fuck that. The world will not play safe with the lives of those he loves. *** In which Belizabeth Brassica is looking for a heretic, and Lapin confesses to his apostasy to protect the House of Rocks.

(one of the first crown of candy fics i read and i never looked back. lapin survive stories makes me so feral and god i love this cantankerous bunny so so much fnewiofewp)

to leave this all behind (halo round his head) by grumpyhedgehogs

Fandom: A Crown of Candy

Lapin blinks slowly at Brassica as she steps up to the bars of his cell, the guards splitting around her like so much water over a stone. He inclines his head, trying for regal and probably failing. “Heretic.” Her voice grates against his eardrums. “You have awakened.” “Zealot. You haven’t killed me.” Lapin replies, dry.

(another, much longer fic where lapin survives and i'm so in love with how much detail and fantastic characterization this fic has, not just for lapin but for the whole cast! the day i stop loving the lapin survives trope is the day i die.)

[The Terror] (yeah, i know, extremely random, and yet here we are. it's due to this animatic here that i was introduced to this show in the first place. def recommend both the show and this artist *thumbs up*)

I'll be Homeward Bound in Time by clandestinegardenias

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Back in the Arctic, stuffed two to a sleeping sack and trying to keep each other alert, he and James used to name every good type of thing they would eat when they got back, knowing–as they thought–the time would never come. 'Cream puffs', James had sighed one frigid night in a partial feverish delirium. Francis could hardly see him but for the lightest starlight, yet he had heard the smile evident in his voice all the same. That close, he had nearly felt it. --- Hailed as heroes on their miraculous return to England, Francis and James fail to cope, but nonetheless manage to fall together.

(i love how warm they are here, how clearly these two depend on one another and find joy despite the fact london is trying it's best to stamp out this closeness. post-rescue is always such an interesting time where they get to reflect and be traumatized by what happened in the arctic and the lack of understanding that is found when they go home. it's done so well here and man, i just love these two together. the ship that sails their ships lmao)

death is a sailing ship by Maleann

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

"James had died knowing that his heart, the core of his very being that no biographer would ever know, would carry on in Francis Crozier. Would be protected, cherished even, because Francis deemed him worthy of such care. Oh, how he had loved Francis then. He had been at peace with this being his last living thought. It’s his only thought now. In this undead life, his love has nowhere to go." ___ James Fitzjames wakes up in the Afterlife. It looks strangely similar to his cabin on Erebus. (Updated with amazing artwork by Marella!)

(the fic is so!! kind!!! to all its characters! and fitzjames is in full form here, i love how it's him that's trying so hard to take care of his men, despite sir john and his lack of empathy. to have fitzjames damn what is proper and trying to do his best as always even in the freaking afterlife, god. you can just see how much fitzjames changed from the beginning of the show to his end in this fic. how all the characters changed, really. every character here is given room to heal and face the consequences of their actions and there were moments that it seriously made me cry. this is my fave fic in this entire list, it just does an amazing job of showing compassion to all its characters and i love it.)

there but for the grace of- by TheGoodDoctor

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

“I wish you would stop being such a martyr,” a languid voice says quietly, drawling as well as a man can with two missing molars and a glassy, bloodshot eye, leaking all the while from open chest wounds. Francis is rather impressed with his dedication to the role, somewhere under the roil of fury and exhaustion. “You know as well as I do that you could have this bed sometimes, if it didn’t suit you to stomp about with blacked eyes and a put-upon expression.” “And what should we do with you all the while, Commander,” he says, all on a great sigh, “wrap you in sailcloth already? Come, man, you’re either well enough to cease bleeding on my sheets or too ill to get out of them, you can’t have it both ways.” “Francis,” Ross began, “I did not undertake to accept the position of second on Franklin’s expedition for you, as you asked.”

(this fic scratched a brain itch i didn't even know i had. it's so interesting to think about, the idea of crozier not being on the expedition and instead being the person who rescues them instead. fitzjames and crozier actually developing a relationship based on this premise, without the shared trauma, is so so intriguing to me and i wish i had more of this. also, the fact crozier is so much more mentally healthier than canon due to ross makes me want to laugh and cry. god, if only.)

out of the sea came he, still hid in mist by dazydaisy for shortcrust

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

You make bargains you cannot keep. You make promises you plan to break. You give things that are not yours to give.

(a haunting, magical realism fic that feels like a gothic fairy tale. exactly my kind of fic! and if it's yours? definitely a good read *thumbs up*)

At Civil Twilight by lieutenant_iceberg

“Well,” said Francis. “Jopson, will you see what you can do with this three-year-old peace offering? A cup for each of us, and one for you.” “Sir,” said Jopson, collecting one of the bags. “You’ll be up all night if you take coffee now.” “I’ll be up all night anyway. Go, Jopson, go.” When he was gone, Francis got up from the table, and they stared into the depths of the bag together. Finally, Francis cleared his throat and said, “All right, then, James. How have you fared since I hit you?” A few days after Carnivale, Crozier and Fitzjames make a faltering attempt to talk things over.

Part 1 of Civil Twilight

(oooh, the very start of their friendship! how to make peace when their entire relationship is based on animosity and contempt! the dialogue and characterization of these two in this series is so good and i absolutely recommend!)

rebuilding by wildcard_47 for 20thcenturyvole

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Once they stepped ashore, a fey dark-haired man burst through the crowd a few heads down from Jane Franklin. When Fitzjames saw his brother, he startled, and when Will surged forward in the first press of the crowds around the returned—elfin face wet with tears as he swept James into a fierce embrace—only then did Fitzjames release his grip on Francis’s arm. Only then did Francis feel as if he could step away at last. Written for the 2023 Fall Fitzier Exchange, for the prompt: "Post-canon AU where, once they get home, Crozier and Fitzjames are riddled with guilt and trauma, and deal with their feelings by throwing themselves into caring for the surviving men..."

(i'm always so fascinated by post-rescue stories that actually deal with the aftermath, the logistics of it all. how the characters struggle to handle their own traumas, how they help one another through their experiences, all of it. and how both crozier and fitzjames step up for their men even now, even when they're no longer captains in the arctic and have to deal with london and all it's trappings. this fic handles all that so very well, i love it <3)

As Bullet Speaks to Gun by pointyshades

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Thomas Jopson/Edward Little

Against all odds, they are rescued. Cornelius Hickey is court-martialed for his mutiny, and the whole mess of the expedition is unfurled in front of the public. With their names being dragged through the mud, Francis Crozier and James Fitzjames reach out to each other. Meanwhile, Thomas Jopson seeks revenge for what he believes is his captain's betrayal, and Edward Little tries to come to terms with the truth.

(yes!! edward little my beloved gets to shine here! and jopson is so bitter and angry and messy, it's great! again, i love fics that tackle what would happen post-rescue and how london would react to it. the trials, both actual and mental, they have to face in order to move on and be happy (oh please oh please) is handled expertly and i love it! crozier/fitzjames ship is a little more background in this fic compared to jopson/little, but honestly? i'm so sucked into the latter ship that it doesn't matter. both ships are written very well here and again, my beloved edward little is glorious in this fic and i love it! you go edward! woohoo!!!)

Principles of Magnetism (a Comedy of Manners) by acaramelmacchiato

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

The one where they're married but it's still Victorian times and also it's an accident.

(you don't understand, this fic is so fucking funny. it's so goddamn victorian and sir john is so jane-austen-silly-characters coded. i want to both shake his hand for making this premise happen in the first place, and punch him in his punchable face. and crozier is perfectly characterized here, i can visually picture his disgruntled expressions so clearly in my mind, it's incredible.)

Thaw by orphan_account

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Past Captain Francis Crozier/Sophia Cracroft

Courteous, charming Fitzjames, whittled down to maturity by the North, and being there, very obviously, not as Francis's right-hand man or as his comrade, but as his mate; a soulmate. Sophia had no need to look at Francis’s face, at the discoloration that would have turned one of his blue eyes into the good-coffee brown of Fitzjames's, to know it, so blatant and luminous a thing it was.

Part 1 of A Victorian Soulmate AU

(very interesting fic where one can choose their soulmates, choose who they want to bond with for life. and the fact it's sophia's pov and how she deals with this fact is handled so carefully and full of goodwill. it makes me want to applaud. i love how clear it is that they're grown ass adults willing to discuss and make peace with one another because they're all genuinely good people who want happiness both for others and themselves. this fic feels like a flower that you hold in your hands to admire it's beauty and delicacy.)

And It Is Now, And It Is Here by 20thcenturyvole, pointyshades

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Before the ships are trapped in the ice, James Fitzjames sees a terrible vision of the future, a harbinger of his own death. Before the ships are trapped in the ice, Francis Crozier is visited by a tender apparition, an angel wearing James Fitzjames' face. They are both seeing the same vision. Whether they can heed its warning is another matter entirely.

(when the ghost of your future haunts you, you better believe it changes to the plot. i love the dichotomy of how crozier and fitzjames reacts to ghost fitzjames! it's so interesting and i was on the edge of my seat the entire time i read this. if you want to know how it all ends, please read! i promise this fic is a ride you want to get on.)

Waistcoats! or, Life Before the Passage by sadsparties

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Lady Ann Ross/Sir James Clark Ross, Lt Henry T. D. Le Vesconte/Original Character

Commander James Fitzjames of the Royal Navy is the Best Man that a best friend could ever ask for. A chance meeting forces him to share his arctic expedition duties with one Captain Francis R. M. Crozier, and perhaps other duties as well.

(listen, the terror is a horror show and i both want and need lighthearted fics in order to deal with all the horrors lol. but seriously, this fic was genuinely just fun to read and i love the banter and slowly developing friendship and relationship between crozier and fitzjames! truly the romantic comedy fic in this fandom. XD)

#Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Marvel #Deadpool and Wolverine #Dimension 20 #D20 #Fantasy High #A Court of Fey and Flowers #A Crown of Candy #The Terror #poolverine #fitzier

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yaksha-lover · 11 months ago

Note

Hey! How are you doing? I don’t know how dark you’re willing to go, but the angst brainrot is back and I guess I just need somewhere to ramble.

Sometimes I like to think about how the prefect’s super chill reactions to… well everything, could just be a carefully crafted facade. I mean, the students at NRC are kinda awful people, and I don’t doubt any weakness would be swarmed like vultures to a fresh corpse. And a magicless, naive person like Yuu would be an extremely easy target. So, instead they just bury all the pain and pretend everything is okay. They’re not crying for their family and home late into the night.

The way that kind of repression would just build up over the year and slowly cause resentment towards everyone, deserved or not, is just delicious. Pretending to be everyone’s friend, to be the kind and welcoming prefect while coming to hate the other students’ guts. The eventual snap after one misplaced comment or one more mess to deal with, when the house of cards all falls down.

Maybe Rollo was right.

Idk, just got a lot of thoughts. Mainly based off of how Rook calls the prefect “Trickster” and the prologue almost framed Yuu in a strategist role. Thoughts?

Honestly, it would make a lot of sense. As much as we love the boys, most of them would be pretty terrible to be around and are very selfish and/or mean (with some exceptions, but that’s still a good majority of the school).

I like the idea that Yuu does start out genuinely wanting to help everyone and find people to be friends with, to try and make this experience of being trapped in another world even somewhat bearable.

At first it’s okay that Ace is a jerk sometimes, because he comes around once you get to know him. It’s fine that Riddle nitpicks and punishes the three of you because in the end, he’s trying his best to get better, to heal from his past. It’s alright that Leona is unrepentant and mean, because he has things he’s been dealing with, and you need to be understanding of his pain. Even when Azul tricks your friends and later you, when you almost lose your Ramshackle, the one place you’ve had to call home, you try to have patience, because he’s got his own issues as well, he has his reasons for things.

But somewhere along the way, you’ve stopped caring for their excuses. Their trauma is real, but so is yours. Even after everything you’ve done to try and help them, you don’t doubt for a moment that none of them would run to your rescue. That they wouldn’t take any opportunity to step on and over you if it meant getting closer to their goals. Because at the end of the day, none of them cared, no matter how much you wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

Breaking down isn’t an option - not when everyone is out for themselves, when your feelings would surely only be ridiculed at best and taken advantage of at worst. Even more than that, you’re a guest at this school. You never earned your way here like the other students and you’re magicless; the only reason you’re even here are extenuating circumstances. The headmage isn’t any more loyal than the housewardens - if any of them had a problem with you, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine he’d throw you out onto the street the second you became an inconvenience that was too much work to handle. So you keep quiet, even when all you want is to tell off everyone around you.

The only housewarden to ever seem to really give a damn about you is Vil, but by the time you get close with him, it’s already too late. Maybe if you met him first, if you’d been less scorned, you could’ve forgiven his little digs at your lacklustre presence and imperfection. He’d done much to try and make up for it after all, helping you out with Ramshackle and voicing his appreciation for you. It was more than you could say for anyone else, but it still isn’t enough. Vil’s sweetness can’t counteract the bitter taste that’s been brewing for months, so you can’t bring yourself to forgive him despite everything.

It’s not his fault, but it’s never anyone’s fault. It’s all of them, chipping away at your sanity little by little.

It’s okay that you can never fall asleep anymore, kept awake by memories of never ending fights and catastrophes to deal with. It’s okay that the same people you’ve helped barely regard you as more than something worth pitying. It’s okay that you’re reminded every day that no effort is being put towards getting you away from this hellhole and back home.

It’s all okay, until it’s not. Until Yuu finally reaches their breaking point, and starts to question if anyone is truly worth saving at this school.

#twst x reader #twst yuu #twst #twisted wonderland

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neverchecking · 1 year ago

Text

TotK Link

Okay, I know not everyone has played Tears of the Kingdom, nevertheless finished (I know I haven't), but I just have brainrot that I need to spread.

And I now have the platform to do so >:)

So, of course, Spoilers under the cut!

CW: Yandere, TotK spoilers!

・❥・So, this can go two ways. One, TotK Link is Wild who was taken mid-adventure with the other Links. Or, two, this is an entirely different Link, kind of like Calamity (AoC Link-- there are some great headcanons about him -> Here! Go check them out they are so, so good.).

・❥・I like both ideas! But, let's talk about the second option.

・❥・So, imagine, the chain and Reader are coming through a portal to this new Hyrule. Or, well, they think it's new. It's oddly reminiscent of Wild's Hyrule only...bigger. There are islands in the sky, holes covered in what appears to be malice in the ground. People are more abundant, there are towers standing, glowing a welcoming red rather than the golden towers in Wild's Hyrule.

・❥・It's so different, but yet so familiar.

・❥・Now, it's evident that this Link is a little more...Feral. Look at his hair and tell me otherwise, you can't. This man had won. He had won, gotten his victory over the Calamity and was supposed to have the rest of his life to settle down. But he didn't. It was ripped away from him once more. Not only that, but he was thrown back to square one. Gloom now riddled his veins making him feel like he was newborn fawn stumbling out of the Shrine once more. So he's probably livid. Angry with Hylia and fate, and Ganon and and and-

・❥・He has no patience left to offer.

・❥・Zelda was supposed to have unlocked her sealing powers, no? And she did nothing. Actually, that's a lie. She used them to save herself. He was left dying again and she saved herself. After he destroyed the Master Sword, the only thing that made him anyone, protecting her. Destroyed his arm. Destroyed himself. And she saved herself. Rauru had to protect him. Had to save his life before Zelda did.

・❥・So, yeah, he's a little less...companionable. He had to save someone who wouldn't give two shits about him again. He thought they had improved their relationship, but he guesses not. Betrayal runs deep in his gut, igniting a fiery inferno that burns on spite.

・❥・And the worst part about it? Everyone around him is praising that damned Princess. For the bare minimum. Showing them a recipe, building a school that should've been there years ago, hell, even just having a horse got her praise out the ass.

・❥・He was tired of it.

・❥・People stay out of his way a lot more. He wears a look that promises some form of harm should someone cross him, and he's more than willing to deliver. Because now, it's not just the one land of Hyrule. Now he has to deal with the Sky Islands and the Zonai creations. Now he has to deal with the depths and all of those creatures which just bring back the gloom he dispels. And he's so over it.

・❥・Now, picture if you will, Reader falling through the portal, separated from the chain, scared and alone. Reader thinking they're in Wild's Hyrule, but his doesn't quite look like this, does it? Reader thinking that, hey, at least they're hidden and in a forest, only Oh Sweet Goddess Above-- THE TREES ARE MOVING-

・❥・Reader doesn't know what to do because THE TREES ARE COMING AFTER THEM, they were forbidden from having a weapon (Because why would they be separated ever? They were there to protect their sweet reader? why would they need to burden themselves with a weapon when the Links could fight for their honor?), and THE TREES WERE ATTACKING THEM-

・❥・But, here comes their knight in shining armor- or some sort of blue tunic. Honestly, the tunic was styling if we're being honest; the open back and split sides along the hips? (Iykyk)

・❥・The trees are taken care of easily and the blond is turning to look at reader.

・❥・Reader just knows. "...I'm gonna guess your name is Link?"

・❥・And while on the outside, all he gives is a simple nod, it's anything but simple. You, this gorgeous being that he just so happened upon, recognized him. It seemed that without Zelda parading him about like some show dog for all of Hyrule, people didn't know who he was. but you? You did? You knew who he was? And the way you were staring at him was like you knew what he had done. The sacrifices he had given. And you were thankful and appreciative. Which was all he asked for.

・❥・You then thank him (You THANKED him) for saving your life and explain that you had been separated from your group. (Group? You had a group? And they just...let you out of their sight?) He offers to help you look for them and you eagerly accept.

・❥・Now, he latches onto you pretty quickly. Your already used to all the Link-isms so he isn't much different. The silence, the constantly guarded exterior, your used to all of it. And it just convinces him further that you're perfect for him.

・❥・Eventually the rest of the chain do pop up. But this Link isn't convinced their safe, after all, Ganon could make puppets out of everyone. Whose to say their not puppets or Yiga? It's better to stay with him, can't you see that?

・❥・The chain obviously have a different opinion on the matter, Legend all but Demanding you back. Hyrule and Four try to placate this Link, while Wild, Wind and even Twilight are trying to think of way of just scooping you up and running. Sky and Warriors are trying to barter with this Link (What does he want? Fairies? Potions? Money? They could have it all should he just give you back). Time is the only one to recognize that this is still a Link. He still wants what's best for you. That doesn't mean he trusts him.

・❥・If Fierce Deity and First are int he group at this point, they too are probably either trying to manipulate explain to this Link that they are in fact your aforementioned group or are just barely holding onto the shred of sanity left thats stopping them from simply doing away with this obstacle.

・❥・But this Link, like all Links, is stubborn. Not just a regular stubborn either. He has learned the hard way that if he wants something, he's going to have to fucking cling to it to keep it. And he's not losing you. Eventually they explain the situation after a bit of your pestering and he loosens up, just the slightest, to take in their words. That doesn't mean he lets go though. Oh no, he just lets them meander closer without threatening a flame throwing at them.

・❥・He's sort of indifferent to Wild, I would think, since they're kind of the same person. He was just dealt the shittier hand.

・❥・When asked where Zelda is, he simply points up (Maybe her name is Natura? Idk, I'm uncreative). He does not elaborate. They don't ask him to.

・❥・Now, it's obvious you have just claimed this Link. He's yours. Sorry not sorry. It's just a matter of taking him with you. He's insistent on not leaving your side. The Demon King isn't actually doing anything, other than unleash monsters the people of his land are already familiar with. This is obviously a new threat and he's a Link isn't he?

・❥・In terms of names? Maybe he's the hero of the Zonai because Tears of the Kingdom doesn't really give us much to work with. Maybe they call him both Zonai and Sage. I like Sage, so I'm going with that.

・❥・The way he fights is fast and brutal, delivering hits that dissipate his enemies own mobility before delivering a fatal last hit. He's a unit of a man, probably like Twilight, if not a little smaller. (Have you seen the shit he has to lug around? Mans is built.) Same height as Wild though, just more built.

・❥・As for the type of Yandere he is? He's on you. Constantly. He is hovering over you because anything and everything can be ripped away from him in an instant, as Hylia as so helpfully shown. He is making sure nothing gets the chance to get closer to you. And he's using his new abilities to do so. Wild is probably interested in the abilities and the arm and the tech, since his Hyrule, after Sage's, is the most technologically advanced.

・❥・He's inspecting your food, checking your person every time you disappear out of his sight for a second, snarling at people who attempt to talk to you.

・❥・The group have to keep him in check like an untrained puppy.

・❥・Oh, but how he laps up the attention Reader bestows upon him. He is such a cuddle hog and he knows it, smirking smugly at the others while you hold him close because oh how his arm hurts so badly, didn't you know? Oh, how the gloom has him feeling absolutely rotten, please can he just lay with you for a while? Just until he settles back once more? Pretty please?

Anyway, those are my thoughts for now, feel free to add your own!

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #loz #Lu x reader #yandere legend of zelda #yandere legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda totk #tears of the kingdom #tears of the kindom spoilers #But imagine him!#He would be so loving #because he knows what its like to lose everything #and he remembers it all #just wanna give him kithes

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