#and he looks away for five minutes and when he looks back your old neighborhood has been turned into a city center

[odyssey-light]

I've been replaying Fallout 4 on survival, and I just keep thinking about how absolutely wild the game is from Father's perspective, considering he's watching you the whole time.

Like Father's dying. He's spent his entire life working towards what he considers his goal of 'fixing the Commonwealth, etc.' but now he's dying and he just kinda wants to see what happens. He's expecting you to pop out of the vault and last a few days, a week or two at most, before the Commonwealth chews you up and spits you back out. Instead, you wake up, go take out a bunch of raiders, a full on deathclaw, start up a settlement that thrives under your guidance, go liberate a bunch of other settlements - basically you start amassing an army and you've been awake for like what- two weeks? Three weeks?

Then you set off towards Diamond City, and Father's thinking 'ok, Boston proper is WAY more dangerous than the northern parts of the Commonwealth. There's Raiders and Gunners and Super Mutants and ferals. Surely you're going to struggle slightly. But nope, off you go to Diamond City, marching in, asking for tips on your son, and leaving to rescue the synth prototype detective. Oh, and of course you walk out of that practically unscathed.

Then you kill Kellogg. You just walk in, kill him, take a part of his brain.

Father watches on in fascination and maybe some slight horror.

Then the Brotherhood show up - depending on how you play, you join them and start climbing the ranks. You're the General of the every growing Minutemen. You start working with the people that are freeing synths. Oh and what's that? You're friends with the Cabbots? And the Mayor of Goodneighbor travels with you? Oh and sometimes you LARP as the silver shroud but that's just some weird little side note.

Like no wonder Father names you director of the Institute after he dies, my man releases you and then you practically take over the Commonwealth, the thing the institute had been trying to do for like... Ever. They're literally replacing people in power to have a fraction of control and you waltz in, fresh as a pansy, and take over.

Father watches your life like some YouTube highlights compilation and is like huh.

[girliism]

girldad!art who is currently shopping for halloween costumes.

“are we doing family costumes this year?” art asked you. halloween was in a week and surprisingly spirit halloween still had a few costumes. “no, she said she’s too old for that now. she wants to be a zombie.” you told art, picking up one of the zombie makeup kits. art made a confused face. not many eight year old girls wanna be zombies for halloween. “why a zombie?”

you dropped the making up kit into the shopping basket. “patrick’s been binging the walking dead with the girls when he watches them.” you reveal, having only found out a while ago yourself. “remind me to have a conversation with him about that later.” art mumbled.

—

“can we trick or treat at lily’s house? her neighborhood has better candy.” your daughter spoke, interrupting you trying to do her makeup for the hundredth time. “yes, we can if you stop talking and let me finish this.” you told her and she immediately straighten up and closed her mouth. but because she was an antsy eight year old that only lasted a minute until she was back to squirming in her seat and asking you random questions.

you put the final touches on her zombie makeup before picking up the mirror flipping it towards her. “alright girly, take a look.” you watched as her eyes and her smile grew wider. “mommy, i look so good!” she took the mirror from you to examine her face up closer. “let’s go show daddy.”

—

you and art stood in the kitchen while your daughter hide behind the wall. “both of you cover your eyes and i’ll count to three.” she order the two of you. “but i’ve already seen your outfit.” you said. she stuck her little arm out and pointed a finger at you. “both. eyes. closed.” she demanded with a bossy attitude you liked to pretend she totally didn’t get from you.

after peeking around the corner and seeing that both yours and art’s eyes were closed she walked out to stand in front of you. “ok, open your eyes in three …two…. one.” you and art tore your hands away from your eyes. “look daddy, i’m you but as a zombie!” she beamed.

“you look amazing! oh my god.” art smiled at his daughter who stood dress up in an all white tennis outfit that had little dirt and blood stains and her hand holding a bloody tennis racket. “we used the picture from when you and uncle patrick won the doubles as a reference.” she said. “i can see that.” art moved to pick her up, an action that was getting a little strenuous given how big she was now but he hasn’t throw his back out yet so he supposes it’s still ok. “you found my old hat and everything. and look at this makeup, mommy did very good.” he turned to you giving you a smile. “how did you come up with such a costume?”

your daughter took a deep breath getting ready to explain. “well, first i was just gonna be a plain zombie but there was gonna be hundreds of zombies tonight and i thought that was too boring. so i decided to combine my two favorite things, you and zombies.” she said with a zombieish groan at the end snapping her teeth at art. you laughed at their antics before clapping your hands together. “ok, time for pictures so we can go.” art let her down to the ground and she ran off to get her tennis ball looking trick or treat basket before posing up a storm for you.

—

“whoa, zombie art donaldson. awesome costume kid.” patrick greeted the three of you in front of the zweig house before high-fiving your daughter. tashi and lily soon came out of the house. “who are supposed to be.” you asked lily. “spider gwen from into the spiderverse. see mommy let me put in pink clip ins.” she showed off the curly pink clips that blended in with her hair. “nice.” you gave her a nod of approval.

more pictures were taken of the girls in their costumes standing in front of tashi and patrick’s halloween decorations.

“candy candy candy.” lily and your daughter chanted, their arms hooked together as they skipped ahead of you and tashi. art and patrick hung a little further back. “hey, patrick can i take to you.” patrick hummed. “could you maybe not watch the walking dead with two eight year olds.” art suggested. patrick scoffed. “oh come on. we just got to season three things are getting good i can’t leave the girls hanging. plus i cover their eyes at any inappropriate part so don’t worry.” patrick patted art’s back. art shook his head mumbling an “ok.”

—

the girls circled the block at least three times to get as much candy before heading back to tashi and patrick’s house where they traded back and forth until they crashed on the couch.

art carried his daughter out to the car bidding good night to tashi and patrick. once at home and inside your held your arms out so art could pass your daughter off to you to get her ready for bed but art said that he would do it.

“sorry, we didn’t do family costumes. i know you wanted to.” she sleepily mumbled. she had her teeth brushed and pajamas on, face clean of all the makeup that art gently wiped off. “you don’t need to apologize i’m fine with it. plus your costume was way better anyway.” art pincher her sides lightly. she let out light giggles. “thanks. good night, daddy.”

“good night.” art tucked her in tight and placed one last kiss on her forehead before shutting off her lamp and leaving.”

(happy halloween!!)

[tmwcs]

Gurll sunghoon non con pleaseeee 😭😭~

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Warnings: non-con, non-idol! College graduate! sunghoon, college reader, ball slamming, noncon smex, unprotected, fear of unwanted pregnancy, reader takes plan b pill, readers house gets broken into, reader is alone for the weekend, fingering, dubcon, noncon turned dubcon…yeah. Do not read if noncon fics make you uncomfortable. Also not proofread and there is cursing.

"its a nice little neighborhood, isn't it sweetheart?"

your mom and dad step out, leading the way up the driveway to the old home. "it's in need of repairs and renovation, but that wont take too long."

your dad was a gifted contractor that knew his way around a tool belt. the man has built homes for all his life, seeing a project this minor was almost laughable to him. the eye catcher of the property was the heavily wooded surroundings, acres of it. "your mother and i saw this and we just fell in love. here, we can put a nice flower garden for you right here."

you look at the small patch of cleared space that was nicely located across the dining room. with only one neighbor in sight, the rest of the homes were behind the trees, leaving the property secluded with loads of privacy. "its nice." you spoke softly as you admire the entire landscape.

the house was the complete opposite from the land piece, to say the least. it was in dire need of renovation; no doubt your dad will have it good as new in no time.

"since we still have to move everything from the old house, you can stay here and continue to go to school as you housesit. your college is only five minutes away."

you looked confused for only a moment, but was reassured of the safety features in the property after expressing concern of staying back alone.

"the property line has a gate with a security system. the house has a separate alarm, just don't forget to set it."

that week, you and your parents bonded over take out and dining over cardboard boxes. it all seems rustic, but you enjoyed the closeness it brought you three.

......

"well be back in two days, call us if anything happens."

your parents make the long fourteen hour drive to continue the preparations of the old home. you felt a sense of liberation hit as you grew excited of having an entire home all to yourself, regardless that it was a total construction zone.

you spent majority of the day fixing up your floral garden, before calling it a night. with dirt smeared everywhere, you immediately ran the hot water in the shower, not taking a moment of thought to secure the system prior to undressing.

the water felt amazing, and you took your time to enjoy and savor it. lost in the sensation of the soft water drops pouring over your skin, a click of the door is followed by a smooth swing as someone enters the home, all without alerting you.

the intruder swiftly enters, and closes the door. he blends in the shadow and makes his way to the hall, taking his place to hide in the close across your room.

you dry yourself off while humming a tune. once you started to pat dry your hair, you realized...

"Shoot....i should have armed the system before my shower."

quickly, you leave your wet hair plastered onto your skin as you wrap the towel over your body. quickly, you head over ot the front door and enter the code on the security pad. a series of beeps is followed by the intercom system that tells you the system has been armed. in order to open the doors, the code must be added, sealing the protection knowing that whoever breaks in, cannot escape once the police arrives.

you go back to your room, completely unaware that a pair of sharp eyes admired you from a distance. the way your skin glistened from the water, while the strands of your hair surrounded your shoulders made him think of mermaids and sirens. you were so lovely in his eyes...too lovely. he had to have you.

you stood in the center of the bedroom, preparing to discard the towel and change, when suddenly the power goes out. "shit..."

you cling onto the towel as you look around for your phone. fortunately, the peering moonlight peeking through the window was bright enough to light the entire room with a soft glare, making it easy to find your device. "there you are...."

You pick it up and set the flashlight on.

Scanning the area, you hold the light steady as you make your way to the main breaker in the garage. Down the stairs you go, slowly tip toeing while clenching the towel to your chest. You reach the area of the living room; only a simple couch furnished the area as the rest of it remained in tatters and gutted for renovation prep.

A creaky snap coming from the staircase behind startles you, infiltrating a jagged sense of fear rushing through you. A frightening yelp escapes your lips and you drop the phone.

The screen faces down, leaving the light to glow the entire room. Despite the dim lighting present, you didn’t see anything that would have caused the noise. Your breath becomes shaky. As you bend your knees, lowering your weight to pick up your phone, another sound emerges, a footstep.

“Who’s there?!” You shout. Heart pounding through flesh and cartilage as you abandon the act of garnishing the phone. Leaving it behind, you step away until the back end of the couch blocks your path. “Get out…I’ve called the police.”

Steadying your voice, you attempt to instill a confident tone in hopes that the intruder would be fooled by your bluff.

Silence replaces the wooden squeaks of the floorboard, signifying that the uninvited visitor halted their impeding steps. You slowly turn, doing your best to clear the entire room using a combination of night vision and the dim light source twelve feet away. When suddenly:

“Did you now?”

A deep voice responds directly behind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing that challenged your fibbing words. A pair of strong hands reach around and harshly squeeze your waist, fingers crossing over your bellybutton. A large frame pushes against you from behind, and a pointed nose makes its way to the noon of your neck, shoving against your jawline while a pair of plush lips tenderly kisses the smooth canvas of skin under your chin. “Sooomethiiing tells me you d-i-d-n-t.”

He carries a rhythmic tone as he playfully sang the words to a nursery rhymed beat. It was similar to the singing games children would hum out while playing, in fact it reminded you of “London Bridge is Falling Down.”

“It’s okay baby. I’m not mad at you for lying. It’s kind of cute.”

He antagonizes you with his hallow words as his hands drift upwards, smoothing over the curves of your breasts before gripping the edge of the towel. “No! Stop!” You yell upon feeling the fabric being pulled down, exposing your most vulnerable assets. Your hands shoot up, attempting to cover your breasts while cupping your womanhood. “Shh.” He hushes against your ear as he grabs on to both your wrists. “What are you covering up for? Nervous, baby?”

He kisses your ear and nibbles your lobe. You start to sob hysterically as the man remains hidden behind, his face unidentifiable. The only thing you had go off of was the smooth sound of his deep and alluring voice. Despite feeling uncomfortable and beyond scared, you couldn’t help but internally admit that a small piece of you melted each time he spoke.

“Please…d-don’t-“ your whimpering only fueled his desire. He wanted more.

“‘Don’t’ what? Tell me baby, what is you don’t want me to do?” He licks your neck, tracing the entire outline. “Is it this?”

He immediately follow up his act with a sickening tender kiss atop your collar bone. The warmth from his chin resting along the curve of your inner shoulder eased your discomfort, as much as you hated to acknowledge it. “What about this?” His fingers drag down, rubbing circles on your clit, stimulating regions of flesh that you never knew existed.

“Is it this, baby? Is this what you don’t want?” His lips latch onto your neck as his free hand pinches and plays with your nipple. “Or is it this?” His offensive fingers push your clit inwards and slide down, right inside your cavity with no preparation or warning. He thrusts them in and out a few times, forcing your muscles to secrete a natural lubricant that allowed him to go in and out faster…and faster.

“D-don’t! Stop! Please!”

Your whimpers inherit a subtle moaning sense as the feeling of his fingers violating your body. The stinging burn wears off and a foreign sensation takes place inside you. You melt begging for him to stop, only to hear him scoff handsomely as he notices you rocking your hips back and forth, yearning for him to go in deeper. You’re in disbelief and ashamed. How can your body respond this way when your heart and soul wants him to stop?

“You like that, baby?”

You moan out pitifully as your hands attempt to peel his fingers off, but you were too weak from the spectacle going down in between your legs. Your legs begin to shake as you barely pull his index off, only for him to chuckle against your cheek. “Yeah you do.”

He answers for you in a confident tone but not at all cocky. It was almost loving in the way he was serenading you. “Let’s see how good of a girl you are.”

Your eyes widen, a stark contrast from their squinting form since you were relishing the feeling of being penetrated and massaged from the inside. His sense of gentleness takes a sudden turn, and the fearful tremble returns upon feeling him push you forward, forcing you to bend over the couch. “Fucking perfect, aren’t you?” He breathes out as he grips the undercarriage of your rear end, and cups your breast while pushing himself in to you.

Your hair drapes over your cheeks while his rough hands explore your nude body. An attempt to retract your bent position is suddenly halted as he pushes you back down, gripping the side of your waist. “Tsk-tsk.”

He smacks his teeth as he reaches around your face, gently tapping the tip of your nose with his finger.

The sound of his belt unbuckling triggered you to sob hysterically once more. “Please don’t do this…I-I don’t want this. Please I’ll do anything.”

“Oh I know.” He lures out so sympathetically as he traced the tip of his shaft along your clit. “Believe me baby, I know you’ll do anything…and don’t worry, you will.”

A painful rage of heat and friction takes place as he squeezes himself inside. Your legs shake ferociously as he barely burrows the first inch or two in you. Your body grows limp and collapses against the couch from the pain, it weakened you. His hips push in while his hands lift you back up, forcing you to arch your back as he presses his palms down on your lower back. “Deep breath.” He says through heavy breathing. Pushing the extension of his length in, he goes in more, breaking you. “Almost there…fuck.” He gasps.

Your vaginal walls grow incredibly numb as a result of the shock, and you lay bent over whimpering in pain as his balls kisses your taint, indicating he made it all the way in, to your most dreadful horror.

He pauses for a second. There was no relief, even with him pulling out, the sting from the thought friction of his muscle rubbing outward was just as bad as him entering. With his bulging tip remaining inside, he takes secondary pause as he adjusts his grip around your hips. A punch makes impact inside your gut as he rams back in. It felt as if he went much deeper than before. You scream from the shock of the act occurring, not just from the pain. There was nothing slow about his rhythm, he fucked you relentlessly in a brutal manner, it was animalistic.

A handful of strokes in, and you started to feel different. The pain subsided as did the numbness. There was a new feeling that formulated inside your walls, a tingling sense that felt good. Too good.

Your body bounces forward as he repeats his thrusts, going in faster and harder each time. You bite your lip, trying your best to suppress the pleasurable moan lying dormant in your throat. Don’t let him know that you’re starting to enjoy this. Don’t let him find out. Don’t let him…

Your mouth drools as you absorb each thrust. A snowball effect takes place deep inside you. It was a tightening band of pressure that continuously grew, to the point where it was on the verge of exploding. It felt so good. It sounded so good. The way his thick and lengthy shaft re-enters. The quenching sounds of your fluids mixing together and being shoved inside as he pounds away, slamming the firm sacks and mashing them against your taint, damn near bruising it.

He digs his fingers into your skin and picks up the pace. A hand grips onto your pelvis, and that’s what did you in. “Oh God!”

Hearing your moan in ecstatic pleasure excited him, you could hear it through his voice under heavy and deep gasps. “Yeah? Does it feel good baby.”

A prolonged moan of “oooh” is drawn from you as he maintains his momentum. “Pretty girl loves to be fucked?”

You nod as you pant your moans out. His vigor was taking your breath away, and even though you felt it hard to breathe, it was the most powerful feeling you’ve ever felt; a burst of pleasure setting off like fireworks. Your toes curl in, and your fingers pinch the cushion as he went in deeper, harder, and faster.

“Gonna let me cum inside this sweet little body?”

Your mind pleaded ‘no’, but your body yearned for him to do his bidding.

“I’ll take that as a yes, my fucking girl.”

You yelp mon out a pitiful ‘no’ as a last attempt, knowing that it wasn’t going to change anything. The damage has already been done. He’s been thrusting for nearly an hour and was still going strong, stretching you open and ruining you for any future prospects of sexual mates.

“Make me cum baby…fuck!”

He clenches his jaw and leans forward, resting his forehead over on the back of your head as he commits slow and hard thrusts, aiming to go in as deep as possible. The warmth of his secreting strings staining your walls was all it took to snap that band, and a wave of intense orgasm rushes through your bloodstream and sends a tingling spark to your toes and fingertips. “Oh-oh my God!!”

You scream out each word, arching your back and lifting your rear end, allowing for his top to slide in deeper as he shoots out the remainder of his seed. “Fuck yeah baby, take it all inside.”

You gulp with an open mouth as you sing out a high pitched moan. Never have you felt something so strong and beautiful. Too bad it had to go down this manner, but right now you didn’t care. The way he gave you an aftermath of kisses, and rubbed his fingers against your skin, it was all so…

“Fucking beautiful.”

He compliments you as he admits a tender kiss to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll take you on a date and then fuck you—and take my time doing it.”

Another kiss lands on your neck. “I just couldn’t help myself tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”

He gently wraps the towel over your body before slyly waking out, not even fazed by the alarm going off as he nonchalantly walks through the front door. You rush over and enter the pin to cease the beeping, gaining the sight of his back. From that you could see, he was tall, and rather well built. You’re not entirely sure how you felt from the whole ordeal. A sense of chaos riddle through as you became torn from being forced into an act of intense sex, grew into enjoying it, and facing the risk of unwanted pregnancy as a reminder of him drops down your thigh. ‘Shit…what have I done?’

………..

A couple of weeks pass, and you never mentioned to anyone about the incident. How could you? It may have started against your will, but something about the pleasure he instilled was unforgettable and addicting. It haunted your dreams, to the point where you awoke to soaked panties and a throbbing pulse of yearning desire. You would think back to that night, thinking about how he fucked you so good. So-so good.

In a way, a part of you had wished you did get pregnant from it. But your rational and realistic sensibility caused you to take your allowance and purchase a Plan-B pill. It was the right thing to do, but God…was it so wrong to want a piece of him inside you?

“Sweetheart, come outside for a moment.”

You walk over to your father’s voice, and met with him outside the front door. “Yes, dad?”

“Sweetheart, this is our neighbor, he lives in the house right outside the fence line, across your flower garden.”

You look over and see the man your father presented. He has the most handsome face you’ve ever seen, and was of great masculine stature. He was dressed in business casual, and looked so damn good with his hands tucked into his slack pockets. He flashes a smile, flaring sharp canines that elude a strong sense of vampirism.

“This is Sunghoon, he graduated from college last year, the same one you’re going to now.”

Your father continues his presentation as you struggled to break your sights away. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is y/n.”

You shyly introduce yourself properly, extending a handshake. He gently takes your palm and shakes it, almost playfully. His thumb rubs the back of your hand as he gives his proper introduction. Your eyes shoot up and you nearly fall as you hear his voice. That voice you could never forget.

You faintly gasp as he smirks, giving you a wink and pulling you in slightly while your parents weren’t looking. Whispering, the warmth of his breath grazes your face—

“Miss me baby?”

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Eight

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eight: Trouble at the Hotel

Summary: Mimzy brings thugs to the hotel, and (Y/N) decides to step up.

            The entire group at the hotel stared at the demon, Mimzy, in confusion. She had broken in during a tense (silly) confrontation (song) between Lucifer and Alastor, so her arrival had caught everyone’s attention.

            “Who?” said Lucifer, blinking.

            Mimzy frowned. “Didn’t you just hear me? Why is everybody gawkin’? Is it cuz I’m adorable?”

            “Mimzy!” said Alastor, grinning widely.

            “Alastor, sweetie, doll-face,” said Mimzy. “So good to see you!”

            Aha, so they know each other, thought (Y/N).

            “How you been? Good? Good!” said Mimzy.

            Alastor and her hugged, which shocked everyone since Alastor wasn’t one for physical touch initiated by others.

            “Listen, I was in the neighborhood,” said Mimzy conversationally, “I heard you were staying in this ritzy slob factory, and I figured I’d stop by, say hi! For old time’s sake.”

            (Y/N) cocked their head. For a moment, Mimzy had seemed uncomfortable, nervous. She was definitely lying about why she was there. But she didn’t seem much of a threat, and with Lucifer and Alastor in the hotel, she couldn’t try anything, could she?

            “Of course, sweetheart,” said Alastor, clearly in control of the situation. “Everyone is welcome here!”

            “Oh, how nice!” said Charlie. “So you two know each other?”

            “Oh, yeah, we go way back,” said Mimzy. “We ran in the same circles when we were alive.” She grinned conspiratorially. “You know, this one used to frequent the club where I used to perform. He’s the only one I knew who could pound whiskey like a sailor then keep up with me on the dance floor!”

            (Y/N) smiled at the idea and chuckled. It seemed the hotel patrons and staff knew even less than they thought about the enigmatic Radio Demon.

            “Oh, quite a talent, this gal,” said Alastor. “Ho, ho, you should have seen her in her heyday.”

            “Hey, watch it, tall, dark, and creepy,” said Mimzy. “I’m still in my prime!” Her eyes landed on Lucifer, and she gasped. “Oh, my stars! Is that Lucifer?” She shoved Pentious out of the way. “Move it!” She approached Lucifer and curtsied. “Pleased to meetcha, Your Highness.” She glared at Alastor. “Alastor, you gotta warn a girl when she’s in mixed company.”

            “Charmed, I’m sure,” said Lucifer, clearly not meaning it.

            “As much as I’d love to catch up, Charlie and I have a tour to continue,” said Alastor.

            “I’m sure Charlie can handle showing me around,” said Lucifer, still grouchy about the situation with Alastor.

            “Nonsense!” Alastor popped up before Lucifer could escape with Charlie. “We started the hotel together, and we’ll show it off together. Right, Charlie?”

            “Oh, right,” said Charlie, a little nervous because of the obvious friction between Lucifer and Alastor.

            “Why don’t you let the others help you settle in,” said Alastor to Mimzy. “And I’ll be back before you know it.” He walked off with Lucifer and Charlie, and the hotel group was left with Mimzy.

            “So,” she said, grinning. “Where can a girl get a drink around here?” She sauntered up to the bar and smirked at Husk. “My, my, is that Husker? Alastor still has you slinging hooch for him, I see.” She laughed. “Classic. How ya been, furball?”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They didn’t like the way she was speaking to Husk.

            “Good until five minutes ago,” muttered Husk.

            “Oh, don’t tell me you’re not happy to see me,” teased Mimzy. “You might hurt my feelins.” She giggled.

            Husk huffed and looked away. (Y/N) walked up to the counter and leaned over.

            “Need a hand with anything?” they asked.

            “Do you want to work?” scoffed Husk.

            “Not really,” said (Y/N). “But I thought you could use a hand. Maybe you can grab me some water?”

            “Finally giving up on getting an actual drink?” chuckled Husk.

            “Can’t in this hotel as long as Charlie’s around,” grumbled (Y/N). “And I’m not exactly going to go out to random clubs and bars in Hell by myself.”

            “That’s for the best, kid,” said Husk, handing them a glass of water.

            “Hey, Niffty, whatcha’ been up to, girlie?” asked Mimzy.

            “Fighting bugs!” chirped Niffty.

            “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?” said Mimzy dubiously.

            “They’re winning.” Niffty grinned darkly and pulled out a carving knife. “But not for long.”

            Husk finished Mimzy’s drink as Niffty ran off and slid it to her.

            “Uhuh, thanks, pussycat,” said Mimzy, taking a drink.

            “Oh, fuck you,” said Husk.

            Now, (Y/N) knew Husk was rough around the edges with everyone, but with this level on antipathy? They decided they couldn’t trust Mimzy.

            Said demon looked at (Y/N) and frowned. “Ya know, I recognize most of the people in this hotel from one thing or another, but you…I got no clue. Who are you?”

            “I’m (Y/N). I live at the hotel,” said (Y/N).

            “You actually believe in the redemption shit?” said Mimzy, laughing.

            (Y/N) decided to take a page out of Alastor’s book and smiled widely. “I believe in getting stronger, and being here is just the right place to do so.”

            Mimzy raised a brow and chuckled in disbelief. “In a hotel with washed up bartenders and bugs?”

            “In a hotel of people I like,” said (Y/N) brightly. Their smile turned a bit sharper, an attempt to mirror the look they’d seen on so many other demons’ faces as they intimidated lesser sinners. “And respect.” (Y/N) wouldn’t stand for their friends getting insulted. These were the first people in their life they could trust in any way.

            “Geez, what a cold kid,” said Mimzy. “What happened in the years I’ve been dead, are there no parties anymore? No fun?”

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes.

            “So, uh, you and Alastor are like what?” asked Angel, walking up. “Friends?”

            “Well, that’s your word, not mine, but I think it fits.” Mimzy proudly puffed up her hair.

            Everyone exchanged dubious looks and took sips of their drinks to avoid responding.

            “Why so surprised?” huffed Mimzy.

            “Well, just didn’t know he had any of those,” said Angel, shrugging. “Nicest thing I’ve ever seen him do for another person was help (Y/N) with their magic.”

            “That was for his own entertainment because I suck,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Still nicer than he is to me,” grumbled Angel. “And besides, he’s still a big, creepy mystery.” He looked at Mimzy. “What’s his deal?”

            Mimzy grinned. “Well, you probably heard the stories. He appeared in Hell suddenly, making a splash quicker than anyone had ever seen. At first, people wanted to dismiss him, but, soon, overlords started goin’ missing, and not small ones, neither. We’re talkin’ heavy hitters. No one knew what happened to ‘em until these strange radio broadcasts started going out. All you could hear was screams. Every time an overlord went missing, there’d be a new voice screaming in the broadcast. That’s when Alastor revealed himself as the Radio Demon, and anyone that would mess with him…Well, let’s just say his broadcasts never lacked new voices.

            “That’s the story most people know, but underneath it all…” Mimzy brightened, shifting the mood abruptly. “He’s a total sweetie! Put on some jazz and pour a couple fingers of rye, and he becomes a kitten.” Everyone stared. “Stop with the looks,” she chuckled. “He hasn’t done any of that in a while.” She held her drink out to the bar. “Can I get another one of these?” She received no response since Husk had walked off in the middle of her speech. “Oh, what the fuck. How am I supposed to get a drink?”

            “Have you tried pouring yourself one?” said (Y/N), grinning at Angel, who snorted.

            “Hey—”

            Bam!

            The entire hotel shook, and the group tensed.

            “What the hell?” cursed Angel as his drink spilled.

            “Mimzy, we know you’re in there you lousy bitch!” shouted a man from outside.

            So she’s not the trouble, but she brought trouble, thought (Y/N) distastefully.

            The group in the lobby peered outside to see shark demons with a battering ram attempting to break down the doors.

            “Oh, shit,” said Mimzy, ducking and covering her head.

            A portal opened in the lobby, and Vaggie, Charlie, and Lucifer stepped through. Lucifer closed his portal and looked around, almost bored (and not a little disappointed).

            “Que carajo?!” cried Vaggie.

            “What’s going on?” asked Charlie.

            “I maaaaay be in trouble with some loan shark’s,” admitted Mimzy. “I may or may not have borrowed fifty grand from—”

            Bam!

            “Eep!” Mimzy jumped behind the bar to hide.

            “You better come out!” shouted the Loan Shark.

            “And I may have also stolen a car…and crashed it…into the loan shark’s girlfriend.” Mimzy coughed awkwardly and then frowned. “But that bitch had it coming!”

            Boom! Crash! Bam!

            Piles of flaming wood were cannoned through the windows of the hotel, landing all around the group.

            “My windows!” cried Niffty.

            “We’re under siege, take cover!” cried Pentious.

            “Look out!” said Vaggie, jumping aside. “What the fuck?!”

            “Shit!” (Y/N) dodged as the flames ate at the lobby and licked at them, singing the flowers atop their head. “That’s it!”

            (Y/N) raised a hand, and briars ripped out of the ground outside of the hotel. They grabbed at the loan sharks, who yelped and dodged as best they could. (Y/N) stepped onto the sill of the broken windows.

            “Go the fuck away!” they spat.

            As roses and thorns thrashed at any sharks they could grab, (Y/N) just watched as blood was spilled. They didn’t care. These people were trying to break their home. (Y/N) wasn’t letting that happen.

            “Ya see, this is exactly what I’m talking about, Charlie,” sighed Lucifer. “You build something nice, you invite people in, you offer them everything, and they just bring violence and chaos to your doorstep. It doesn’t matter how well-intentioned you are, they’re always going to disappoint you.”

            “All of you, get to a safe distance!” said Vaggie. “(Y/N), stop tearing people apart, I’ll handle it!”

            “I’ve almost got them all,” snapped (Y/N) back. These people were hurting their family. They deserved whatever they got.

            “Fucking bitch!”

            The Loan Shark in charge fired at them, and (Y/N) ducked, wincing as several of their leaves and petals burned away. They held their head and stumbled back, the vines outside crushing the men in their grips in reaction to (Y/N)’s pain and alarm.

            “(Y/N)!” called Vaggie, lifting her spear to help them.

            “Leave it to me.”

            Everyone looked at Alastor in surprise, not having expected him to step in. However, they flinched at the sinister glint in his eyes because, despite his signature smile, the look promised agony for the shark demons outside. Attacking the hotel and burning (Y/N) (as surprising as it was, the patrons and staff of the hotel had to admit that (Y/N)’s injury seemed to get Alastor intercede) had sealed the sharks’ deaths.

            “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.”

            As another round of fire sped towards (Y/N) and the hotel, shadows ripped up to catch the fireball, smothering it in an instant as the shark demons stepped back at the display of power.

            “Oh, finally, took ya long enough!” said Mimzy.

            “A reminder to all, not to mess with the Radio Demon!”

            Green light surrounded Alastor, and shadows lifted him into the air. Several tendrils crashed out to the law of the hotel and stabbed through the remaining shark demons, brutally killing them in an instant. Alastor floated outside, shadows covering himself and pushing (Y/N) back into the hotel as he leered over the lesser sinners. He laughed evilly as their screams rang out.

            “Are you alright, kid?” said Husk, looking at (Y/N)’s head as they backed up towards the bar.

            (Y/N) felt their head and winced. Apparently, losing the flowers was a legitimate injury for them. Blood came away with their hand. “I think I need some bandages…”

            “We’ll make sure ya get some,” said Angel. He squeezed (Y/N)’s shoulder. “Thanks for helping us.”

            “I wanted them to stop,” said (Y/N), smiling a tiny bit.

            “I will devour each and every one of you!”

            Outside the hotel, Alastor grew to a giant size, looming over the terrified, suffering shark demons. He cackled as they tried to run and escape his joyful torture of them.

            “Mhm, ya see?” Lucifer shook his head as blood splattered across the ground. “What I tell ya? Charlie, sinners are violent psychopaths, hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There’s really no point in trying.”

            “Dad, stop! (Y/N) and Alastor were both defending this hotel!” snapped Charlie, unwilling to hear Lucifer belittle the people she cared about. “He might be doing it in a more…sadistic way than I’d hoped.” She cringed as Alastor swallowed a shark whole. “But they both are doing it for me! How come they have faith in me, but my own father can’t?”

            “Ooh, drama,” said Angel, pulling popcorn out of God knows where.

            Alastor finished outside and shrank down to his regular size. “Oh, I missed getting to let off steam.”

            “Oh, Alastor, what a fantastic show!” chuckled Mimzy, walking out. She clapped. “Bravo, as always! Thanks for helpin’ lil’ ol’ me outta a tough spot, you’re always such a pal.” A piece of the hotel crashed to the ground, and she jumped before chuckling sheepishly. “Sorry about the mess, but I’m sure the lil’ bug can take care of it for ya.”

            “I think you should go Mimzy. Now.” Alastor’s smile never left, but his voice was sharp, warning.

            “Oh, pff, Alastor, you’re such a kidder, you!” Mimzy laughed his words off. “You are so funny!”

            “I mean it.” Alastor cut her off. “You deliberately brought danger to this place and the people within just to have me clean up your mess. I can’t have that here.”

            “But you love takin’ care a’ me?” said Mimzy, laughing nervously. Seeing no change, she shifted tactics and scoffed. “What? You don’t actually give a shit about this tacky place and the people livin’ in it, do ya? Come on. I know you.” She attempted to tease him. “You heartless son of a bitch.”

            Alastor pushed her back with his staff. “You are welcome if you actually want to give redemption a shot. But I think we both know that’s not really your style. So you need to leave.”

            Mimzy spluttered. “Fine! Who needs ya? Have fun with ya lil’ princess and ya lil’ kid and ya lil’ hotel!”

            Alastor’s eye twitched at the surprising phrasing, but he remained as intimidating and as collected as ever.

            “See if I care!” Mimzy gave him the finger and stalked off.

            Alastor was unimpressed by her attempt to frustrate him.

            Behind him, Angel, Husk, and Pentious nodded in satisfaction that the flapper demon was leaving. Behind them, Charlie was chasing down Lucifer to talk to him due to his continuingly disappointing attitude towards the hotel. However, Alastor brushed past them all (after summoning shadows to repair the hotel) and headed towards the actual rooms of the hotel.

            Alastor glanced at his shadow as he walked. It didn’t require his words to understand what he wanted, and it pointed down the hall. Alastor melted into the shadows, following his own.

            Emerging in a hotel room, Alastor glanced around. Undoubtedly, this was (Y/N)’s room. It was fairly bare, still quite hotel-like and impersonal, but flower petals littered the floor, and roses grew in a protective curtain around the bed.

            Alastor turned away from the room to face the bathroom. (Y/N) could be heard within, and Alastor approached. He peered through the crack in the door before making any move to enter.

            (Y/N) stood within the bathroom. Frowning, they twisted awkwardly in an attempt to properly see their burn injury. They attempted to reach up and put burn cream on their head, but the roses on their head flinched and wilted in pain, causing (Y/N) to wince as well.

            At that, Alastor found himself melting through the shadows and reforming behind (Y/N). “My, oh, my, this is quite an unfortunate display.”

            (Y/N) jumped. “Alastor?”

            “Who else?” chuckled Alastor. “Oho, my, what a burn you’ve got there.”

            “The loan shark got a hit on me while I was handling some of his men,” said (Y/N), focusing on trying to reach their wound again.

            “At least your training seems to have done some good,” said Alastor approvingly.

            “Really?” (Y/N) blinked at looked at Alastor in the mirror.

            “Yes, your use of magic is improving quite well,” said Alastor. “We’ll address defensive techniques next time.”

            (Y/N) nodded, hissing as a petal fell and touched their wound. They grimaced and gingerly removed it.

            “Until then, we should take care of that,” said Alastor, gesturing his staff to the injury. “I can’t have you walking around like that. The hotel needs to keep up a good appearance.”

            He snapped his fingers, and two tendrils of shadow lifted up. They picked up the burn cream and bandages. (Y/N) watched warily as they approached by the first apply the salve to their wound. They winced, but the tendrils were gentle, and as soon as the cream had absorbed, the second tendril placed a bandage overtop, careful to avoid disturbing any other roses blooming.

            Alastor looked at the shadows’ work and nodded in satisfaction. The tendrils disappeared, and he and (Y/N) were left alone.

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N), looking at the bandaging in the mirror.

            “Nonsense, you would have gotten it done in time, but your failure wasn’t entertaining enough to let continue,” said Alastor, grinning and waving a hand.

            “No, not for that.” (Y/N) turned to face him. “For helping me with the loan sharks when they hurt me.” They shrugged. “I know it was to show off in front of Lucifer, but it helped.”

            Alastor tilted his head, still grinning. “You seem to thank me a lot for helping you when you know I’m not an altruist.”

            “I guess I do,” said (Y/N). “But I was in a shitty position.”

            Alastor lightly tapped (Y/N)’s forehead with his microphone. “I couldn’t let my protégé get too burned.” His grin widened. “Do try not to get harmed in the future.”

            (Y/N) was surprised by the warning? Concern? Whatever it was, Alastor melted into the shadows before (Y/N) could respond to his face.

            (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll try.”

            They knew the shadows were listening.

l

            Alastor emerged in his room, the shadows carrying (Y/N)’s words to him. He looked out of the window over Pentagram City. Even in the night, the lights never shut off, always shining with life (well, death) and energy.

            However, so far removed from the city proper, the hotel sat on its own. It existed in a quieter space and left Alastor with just his thoughts.

            Unfortunately for him, those thoughts were not plots or strategies that night. No, they were over weakness—sentimentality that he was showing. It was pathetic, yet it was true. Yes, he had it as under control as he could have it, but the truth was also that he was having instances of weakness.

            It all started with (Y/N). First, the child allowed him to teach them, which was good for Alastor’s schemes for power. But then they had seen his motivations and still not questioned it, instead just thanking him. Alastor hadn’t been thanked for anything in years.

            And then Alastor had found that, despite his plans going astray, he was willing to continue teaching them. Why should he give strength to someone who could become his enemy? It was a foolish idea.

            But that, apparently, wasn’t the extent of Alastor’s foolishness. He had comforted the child. He had pathetically seen himself, young and afraid and tired, in the cowering child and allowed his shadows to calm them down. He had done what a young Alastor would have wanted for (Y/N).

            And now, Alastor had not only defended them when those idiotic shark demons attacked but ensured they were healing well. Alastor was familiar with his possessiveness when it came to the souls he controlled, but this was something else.

            It was protectiveness. It was sentiment. It was weakness.

            Alastor tsked. First he found a friend in Hell (dear Rosie) and now whatever (Y/N) was? What was happening to the Radio Demon?

            This was disgraceful.

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[saksukei]

five times you fell in love with ushijima wakatoshi.

masterlist | sorry this is really long. I just love him sm <3

01. that one day when he walked you home and stayed for dinner. your mother had told ushijima she had never found the neighborhood safe, so he made it a point to walk you back everyday after his practices.

you came upon a startling realization during this time. ushijima was definitely raised like a gentleman. he would never let you walk on the outer side of the sidewalk. anytime you were on the outer side, he'd take a step back and go around you. always.

“thank you for dropping me home, wakatoshi,” you told him. it was a routine for you to say this and for him to reply that you shouldn't thank him for this.

“i am thankful though. especially for you not letting me walk on the outer side,” you explain and ushijima feels like he's been caught off guard. he did do it unintentionally most of the time, yes, but he makes sure of it when he's with you. its also partly because you sometimes get so carried away telling him about your day, he worries you might accidentally stumble on the street and he can't have that.

“you read me well,” he admits, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“well it's because i'm just happy to be graced by the presence of the ace of shiratorizawa,” you joke.

“you think too highly of me, you know that?”

“i don't see why I shouldn't,” you retort. “do you want to come in for dinner?”

you assume he's going to refuse since he has to be home in an hour to study and do his homework. and you know better than anyone that he doesn't take a single day off, no matter what. be it hail, sleet, snow or a tornado, ushijima would never rest.

he takes a minute to think till he replies, “yeah sure.”

you mask your shock well, you open the door and let him in. and you can already feel the butterflies in your stomach. maybe you don't view him as a friend, but something more.

02. when you told him he was boring. it wasn't intentional, no. ushijima is fun but just not without planning out the fun? so when you tell him that you're gonna go out in the rain, he's definitely hesitant to join. you don't force him to join you which he's grateful for.

but when he sees the smile on your face, as raindrops trickle down, he thinks to hell with it. you're awestruck when he does join in, his eyes taped shut, as he lets himself feel each raindrop falling on his skin.

“toshi” you call out, only for his eyes to meet yours, slowly adjusting to the light. you laugh and he thinks he's never heard a better sound.

“i’ve never done this before.t I wouldn't have, if it wasn't for you,” he admits, letting his rigid body go lose.

“don’t go all soft on me big guy,” you retort, a grin on your face.

“i can't help it.”

and you can't help falling in love with him either.

03. when you spent an afternoon in his childhood bedroom. ushijima’s mother had invited the two of you for dinner, telling you to take a look at wakatoshi’s old room.

volleyball and manga posters were lined on the side of his wall, with some of his trophies and pictures with his best friend tendou.

“can’t believe i’m lucky enough to be here,” you joke, a playful smile tugging on your lips.

“can’t believe i’m lucky enough to bring you here,” he responds, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“although I think I should be jealous because from the looks of this bedroom, it feels like you've been dating tendou,” you pointed at the wide array of pictures of the two.

ushijima throws his head back in laughter, “i kept our pictures hidden from mom,” he replies. you knew his mother was a little critical of his choices as a teenager. “wait–” he opened his cupboard and started rummaging through the drawers only to pull out a shoebox.

“this has all of our pictures,” he hands the box to you. you open it, only to find ushijima saving up not only pictures, but movie tickets, little letters you wrote for him, the bracelets you made, the cute doodles you drew on his notebook perfectly cut off alongside birthday cards and a childhood photo that you gave him.

“i never knew you saved all of this stuff,” you whispered. you never took ushijima for the sentimental type, especially not the one to save what you referred to as your ‘romantic garbage.’

“of course I would,” he shrugs. “it might be garbage to you but it meant the world to me and it still does. I save stuff till this day,” he admits.

this man really does catch you off guard, doesn't he?

04. when you were having a difficult time. while he's a world renowned player that definitely has more than enough on his mind given the upcoming championship, all of that becomes irrelevant when he catches you with tears sliding down your face after coming home back early from his practice.

“t–toshi, you're home?” you whisper, quickly trying to wipe the tears of your face. but you've never been a good liar and ushijima can read you with his eyes closed.

“what’s wrong, love?” he asks, immediately cupping your face with his hands, wiping your tears. “is everything okay?”

the dam breaks and he just pulls you into his chest, letting you cry your heart out. he shushes any apologies you cry out. why were you so adamant on thinking that you were a burden to him? burdens are pushed on people against their will and he sure as hell isn't here against his.

and you think, how lucky you are to have wakatoshi around.

05. when you find him drenched from the rain. ushijima was returning from his latest championship and you had already warned him of the thunderstorm ready to rain down on Tokyo. you find him and his suitcase looking as if they've crossed a tsunami on the way to the apartment.

“toshi,” you quickly rush to find a towel to wrap around him. “what happened?” you ask. “did the cab not drop you directly here?”

he smiles sheepishly admitting that he had asked the cab to drop him off fifteen minutes away. when you ask why, he pulls out the flowers and cupcakes he brought from your favorite bakery.

“and I also brought your favorite manga,” he smiles. “i just missed you so much these two months.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you hug him, “i missed you too,” you whisper, buried in the crook of his neck. you pull away, “go change quickly now, we can't have our star player being sick. dinner is almost done.”

“i love you, darling,” he says before heading inside.

and just as you thought you couldn't fall in love with ushijima wakatoshi anymore, he manages to prove you wrong.

[roostersbby69]

0.2 | For old times sake

Summary: Bradley hasn’t gotten any action with his wife. They didn’t have kids, not because of their jobs, but because she just didn’t want to anymore. Bradley had a very high sex drive, and his maid that his wife hired might just give him a memory refresh of how good sex is.

Warnings: age gap,(reader is 25 and Mr. Bradshaw is 36)

Pairing: Rooster x maid!reader

Word count: girl I don’t even know

For old times sake masterlist. Full masterlist.

Sunday couldn’t come fast enough, Bradley doesn’t know why he found himself anticipating for you to come back in your short shorts and tan legs to clean his house.

It was currently 2:00 and he caught himself checking the time almost every five minutes.

You did a great job on Friday, for your first day, the house smelled great, the air seemed cleaner, and his overall mood had lifted.

“You need to get on the yard work today.” Isabelle walked into the room and set her hands on her hips.

Bradley swore she always acted like a child in situations, it wouldn’t kill her to say please.

He looked at her and nodded, “I’ll get on it.” He turned back to the game and closed his eyes.

He heard her scoff and grab her bag from the floor before slamming the front door shut.

He opened his eyes and groaned, he checked the time and read that it was 2:05. He squeezed his eyes shut and peeked one open, hoping it would be 3:00, nope 2:06. Shit.

He put on some shorts and his old sneakers before going out to the garage and grabbing the lawnmower. It was a smaller hand held one since they lived in a crappy neighborhood.

He yanked it out and took it to the back yard inside the fence. He attempted to crank it but it sputtered and shut off.

“Damn it.” He groaned and walked to the garage again to look for some gas.

He rummaged through the junk inside, from old Christmas decor, old photo boxes, and old furniture.

He heard a car pull up and lifted his head in curiosity, surely Isabelle hadn’t come home this early. At least he hoped not.

He saw a smaller car pull up beside his blue Bronco, that Isabelle hated, and turned the vehicle off.

He didn’t recognize this particular car, it better not be someone dropping off yet another package for Isabelle.

His gaze softened when you hopped out of the car, today you had on light pink shorts, almost similar to the white ones you wore yesterday, they were equally as short, your hair was up once again in a clip, and you wore a grey tank top.

You hummed as you shut the driver door and opened the back to take out your bag. You locked your car and made your way to the front door and knocked,

Bradley snapped out of his daze and stumbled over the junk to get out of the garage.

“Hey!” He called and got your attention.

You spun around and clutched your heart, “Oh my goodness! You scared me.” You sighed once you realized it was just Mr. Bradshaw.

“Sorry.” He snorted and walked out of the garage, “You’re here early.”

You nodded, “Yeah I just finished classes and I live a couple minutes away so I decided id just come straight here. I hope that is okay.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem at all.”

“What are you doing?” You asked and craned your neck to look inside the messy room.

“Oh, I’m just looking for a gas can for the law mower.” He turned around and scanned the room again.

“Is that it right there, behind that pot?” You set your bag down and walked over to the side of the garage and peeked behind a pot.

The red tank stood out and Bradley smiled, he walked over to you and grabbed it and hoisted it up.

“Sure is, thank you.” He lifted it over your head and down to his side. You watched as his biceps tightened and relaxed against his wife beater.

“No problem.” You shrugged and smiled.

“You can go ahead and do whatever you need to do, I’ll be outside cutting grass and doing yard work.” He walked to the house and opened the door for you. You followed him and nodded.

He shut the door behind you and watched as you removed your shoes and set your bag down in the same spot as yesterday.

Today there was a heap of laundry that needed to be done, you sighed and grabbed the backer and sorted the colors out onto the floor.

Bradley cheered to himself once the lawnmower started after he filled it up. He peeked up into the glass door to see you hanging up one of his shirts. It looked so big compared to you. He shook his head of these thoughts and began to push the mower across the yard.

-

It was hot today, you were even sweating just walking around the house. You couldn’t imagine Mr. Bradshaws state outside in the heat.

You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and walked out of the sliding glass door to see him wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his wife beater.

You caught a glimpse of his hard abs and the patch of hair that ran down beneath his shorts. He wiped his eyes and dropped the shirt back down and caught sight of you, barefoot, short shorts, tank top, red face, and a a sweating water bottle in your small hand.

You walked to the edge of the porch and called down to him, “I brought you a water bottle, I know it’s hot out here.” You sweetly held it down to him.

He walked closer and gently took it from your hands, “Thank you.” He opened the cap and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he downed the entire bottle.

He cleared his throat once he finished and screwed the cap back onto the empty plastic.

“Where’s your wife?” You rested your elbows into the railing, he tried his very best to not look down to your breast which were pushed together deliciously.

“I think she had a meeting today, should end around 6:00.” He checked his watch and nodded.

“Oh ok.” You nodded and looked at the yard which was halfway cut now, “The yard looks good.”

He was surprised at your compliment, Isabelle never complimented when he did work or something for her. “Thank you.” He found himself smiling up at you.

“I better get back to work, got a lot to do.” You extended your hand and he didn’t realize what you wanted in it, “I can take your bottle and throw it away for you.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He scrambled and handed it to you. You laughed and his heard beat faster and harder.

“That’s ok.” You took it and turned back to the house.

He watched your hips sway and caught a good view of the side of your ass as you turned to slide the door shut.

“I’m a dead man.” He muttered before he started the mower back up.

The house looked perfect, the blankets were folded neatly on the couch. The laundry was folded onto their beds, the dishes were washed, the candles were lit, and the grass was cut. Thanks to Bradley.

He walked inside and admired the house. Isabelle never cleaned this good, sure she picked up, but she never cleaned. He slowly shut the door behind him as his eyes were still gazing at the practically sparkling room.

You walked into the kitchen with a laundry basket on your hip and smiled at him, he had grass clippings on his arms and clothes, his hair was sweaty as it dripped down his face, and the veins in his arms and hands were popping out.

“The house looks great.” He complimented and took his shoes off.

“Thank you, I just cleaned some towels and put them in the bathroom so you can take a shower.” You sweetly said as you set the basket down and opened the dryer to start folding the warm clothes inside.

He almost fainted, you were so thoughtful, never in a million years did he think he would be experiencing something like this. He nodded and thanked you as he walked to the fridge and got out yet another water bottle and downed it as he shut the door.

You shook your head and smiled before getting back to finishing up the laundry.

It was 4:36 right now and Mr. Bradshaw had mentioned Mrs. Bradshaw got home around 6:00.

You still had plenty of time to finish up, you would probably get to leave earlier too.

Mr. Bradshaw walked out of the hallway to his bedroom with clean clothes on and wet hair.

“I hate to do this,” he said as he set his dirty clothes into the hamper, “but I’ve come with more dirty clothes.”

You laughed and shook your head, “It’s ok, It’s what I’m here for.” You took the hamper and threw the clothes into the washer with some detergent. He watched as you clicked the dial and started it.

He walked to the fridge as his stomach growled, he grabbed some sandwich stuff out and turned to you. “You want a sandwich?” He held up the bread and ham.

You smiled, “I’d love one.”

-

“So, you’re in the Navy?” You asked as you sucked some leftover mayonnaise off of your finger.

Bradleys dick twitched as he watched your plump, pink lips suck on your finger, he wished it was his between those lips.

He nodded and swallowed, “Been in it for over ten years.”

Your eyes widened as you sipped the coke he brought you, “I wanted to be in the Air Force, but my mom wouldn’t let me.”

“Whys that?” He took another bite of his sandwich and watched your face as it thought for a second.

“I think it’s because I’m her only girl and it just isn’t what she wanted for me.” You shrugged.

“You have siblings?” He asked. He probably shouldn’t be asking personal questions about you, but you didn’t seem to mind.

You nodded, “I’ve got three older brothers, Tommy, who’s twenty seven, Michael, who’s thirty, and Jeremiah, who’s thirty five.” You counted them off on your fingers.

He nodded with every word and his eyes widened, “Parents were busy.” He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but he broke out into a smile when you laughed once he said it.

“They wanted four boys, but they got blessed with me.” You smiled and took another bite of your sandwich.

He smiled and watched you look outside the window and chew, in thought.

“You have any siblings?” He snapped out of his daze and looked at you.

“Nope, just me.” He shook his head and sipped his Gatorade.

“That’s not bad, siblings can be annoying.”

He nodded and played with the crust on his bread, “I’d like to have a brother, but I’ve got a good friend who is just like one.”

“That’s sweet.” You set your sandwich down on your napkin and took another sip of your coke.

He nodded and finished his second sandwich he had made a few minutes ago. Bradley had a big appetite, he was a bigger guy. Not big. But more muscular, and taller.

“Your house is nice.” You complimented after a short break of silence.

“Thank you, Isabelle picked the house out. It’s a little too big for us.” He looked around.

“You have any kids?” You dropped the question.

He cleared his throat, “Nope.” And shook his head.

“How come?” You raised a brow and looked at him, “Sorry that’s none of my business.”

“No, no it’s okay, uhm, Isabelle never wanted any. She never liked kids.” He shrugged.

“Oh,” you looked down at your lap and thought, “I love babies.”

He picked his head up and looked at you, “Oh yeah? You want any when you get older?”

You nodded immediately, “Yes, I want all boys. Just like my mom wanted.”

He smiled, Bradley always wanted kids of his own. He could always picture himself as a dad, raising a bunch of kids into little spitting images of him.

He knew it was what his mom would have wanted for him, he just never got the opportunity.

“That’s nice.” He mumbled as he crumpled up his napkin and stood up. He read the clock, 5:30, Isabelle should be on her way home now.

He made sure to clean up and not leave a mess behind, he watched as you threw away the coke cans as he wiped down the table so it looked just as spotless as when you did it earlier today.

“Thank you for today, here’s this.” He handed you yet another white envelope.

You smiled and took it from his hands, “Thank you, Mr. Bradshaw.”

He was going to correct you and tell you that you could just call him Bradley, but he kind of liked the way his last name rolled off of your tongue so smoothly.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He smirked and watched you grab your bag and head for the door.

“See you Tuesday.” You waved your fingers and slipped out the door.

“I’ll be here.” He muttered to himself and waved as you closed the door.

—————————————————————

Part 3.

Authors note: Ahhh! They’re finally talking and learning more about each other! This is going so much better than I thought it would, I’m so excited to write the next chapter. Bye bye Isabelle.

Don’t be shy, leave a comment!

[sintiancat]

Tord laughed, looking down at Edd and Matt from his giant robot.

‘’Hey, Edd! Thanks for holding onto this for me!’’ He shouts, smiling from ear to ear. ‘’I’ll have to go now though. The world’s not going to take over itself!’’

‘’But I thought we were… I thought we were friends!’’ Edd shouts, salty tears quickly leaving his eyes.

The old friend he’s known for so long and cherished with all his heart, betraying him.

Just like that.

Like it never meant something for him.

‘’HA! No? What would I need friends for when I’ve got this!’’ He cackles, but stops abruptly. His eyes widening as he remembered something important.

‘’Mh. But you know... there is something- no, someone I do need.’’ He says, his eyes darting around the neighborhood. ‘’I need her.’’ He mumbles, his eyes continuing to search desperately for her.

Edd and Matt look at each other, agitated and worried.

Some seconds pass by, and the silence only becomes louder.

Everyone seems to wait for something.

...

But nothing happens.

You don’t appear.

‘’CUT!’’ The director announces, promptly standing up from his seat. His hands rubbing his lower back, as he stretched.

‘’Ugh. Where’s the main love interest? She was supposed to enter scene as soon as he said that!’’ He frowns, reading the script one more time as he shouts your name.

You jolt, head turning abruptly at the mention of your name

You looked like a deer caught in headlights, and when you made eye contact with the director, you slowly left the pastry you were about to eat back with the rest of the food on set.

‘’What?’’ You frown, ‘’I’m not supposed to enter scene yet.’’ You huff, about to take the pastry again.

Except you can't.

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder, beckoning you to turn around as you hear someone say your name soon after. ‘’The script changed’’ Paul informs you, his thick eyebrows furrowing to show his confusion ‘’Edd was supposed to tell you this morning.’’

You tilt your head, ‘’He didn’t’’

‘’I did!’’ Edd says, approaching the two of you. ‘’When we were having breakfast, remember?’’

Your eyes squint as you recall the events of this morning. When Edd was eating the promotional cereal ‘’Eddsworld’’.

‘’I just remember you talking with your mouth full.’’ You blink, ‘’You should really stop doing that by the way, we can’t understand you and you know how annoyed Tom gets after.’’ Edd laughs, nodding.

‘’I know, I know.’’ He sighs, his lips parting to comment again. But instead, he only gasps.

‘’Where’s Tom?’’

Paul eyes widens, his cigar about to fall of as he wastes no time to run to the set. Edd rushing to do the same.

‘’Oh shit. Don’t tell me you guys left him inside the debris?!’’ You panic, following after the two to help your friend out of the destroyed house.

Matt and the director were already there, lifting the remains of the house to get Tom out.

Well, the director was the one lifting. Matt was panicking as he called Tom’s name horrified.

With more of the crew helping you quickly took him out, the man with spiky hair groaning in pain.

Matt and you sigh, a bit more relieved at the sight of Tom, who was at least still conscious enough to curse.

From the corner of your eye, you see how some crew members help Tord step off the giant robot, the Norwegian running towards Tom to make sure he wasn’t badly injured.

Tord lifts him up, seating him down so a crewmate could quickly aid him.

Tom tries not to wince as he feels the alcohol-soaked cotton ball touch his injury.

‘’I didn’t receive the signal,’’ He hisses, ‘’I stayed there for whole five minutes.’’

‘’There was not clear communication.’’ The director huffs, crossing his arms. ‘’Someone forgot to inform people about the change in script.’’

Edd looks away, whistling as he kicks a pebble.

‘’Why am I not surprised…’’ You hear someone mutter

Sighing, you crouch down at Tom’s level.

‘’Tom.’’

‘’Yeah?’’ He looks your way, his tired eyes making eye contact with you.

You have a tiny smile on your face, as you lean closer to him.

Your lips parting to whisper into his ear.

‘’Idiot. I fucking told you to accept the stunt double.’’ You pull his ear

---

heres my two cents to the ew x reader community. i dont think ive ever seen an actor au in the fandom tbh

also hi tumblr how do u

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter five

close to home | chapter five

plot: Daryl and the reader experience a bit of trouble on the road before arriving at the prison, where the reader gets quite a surprise

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,881 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading!

It was silent as you and Daryl drove through the old deserted neighborhood. The sun was steadily rising, and it was already warm; the day would be warmer than usual, and you wanted to die at the thought. You’d already moved your hair into a ponytail, and sweat was sticking your shirt under your arms. 

You directed him to get onto the northbound extension and were soon flying down the road. The wind whipped around your hair, and every so often, you looked back to check on Tora. You wouldn’t hear her meowing over the wind, but you knew she was. You chuckled as you turned around, lifting your feet on the dash. 

“What?” Daryl asked you. 

“Nothing, it’s just been a really weird twenty-four hours.” You said, looking up at the clear blue sky. There was no sign of the storm last night. 

Five minutes later, though, you believe that thought jinxed you. Half burnt from a lightning strike, a huge pine tree lay across the double-lane highway. Pine needles and debris from the storm covered the asphalt. You sighed loudly and unstrapped. “I don’t think we can move this ourselves,”

Daryl gave you a look that told you he didn’t get your sarcasm again and moved to get out of the car. 

“Damn guard rails won’t let us drive on the grass,” He swore, spitting onto the ground. 

“We can double back to the past exit,” You said, jumping down and walking towards the tree. “Poor guy,” You looked sadly at it.

“Poor us,” Daryl corrected you.

You rolled your eyes and were about to say something when those familiar groans caused your stomach to drop. You went to grab your machete, but you’d stupidly left it in the car. 

“Your four o’clock!” Daryl yelled. 

You turned around and saw about half a dozen dead ones roaming out of the forest. “Ah, shit,” You cursed, looking around for any weapon. There was a branch the size of your forearm on the right, and you grabbed it just as one of the dead ones reached you. You quickly dodged it, hitting the back of its knee with the branch and then ramming it into its head. When it dropped dead, you saw Daryl handling three alone and another two headed toward you. 

You barely had time to react to the second dead one dropping to the ground, half its brain missing and dead on the ground, when the other one slammed right into you. Your head hit the ground with a smack as you held off the dead one with your forearm. 

“(Y/N)!”

The branch had been knocked away, and you reached for it a few times before accepting that it was out of your reach. You groaned loudly and struggled against its strong arms. When it was alive, he must’ve towered over six feet.

“Daryl!” You yelled.

“I got ya,” 

The head was pulled back, and a knife went through its skull. Blood dripped down on your face, and you winced, trying desperately to pull yourself out from underneath the heavy, decaying body. 

Tora’s high-pitched wail caught your attention, and you looked up to see a walker bending into the car, reaching for the carrier. 

“No!’ You screamed loudly, running towards the dead one. You collided with it and went flying down. With its attention on you, you quickly pinned down its arms with your legs and grabbed its head, pulling as hard as you could. With a sickening crunch, its head came clear off and went flying in the opposite direction. 

With the body not a threat, you moved toward the car to check the carrier, which was completely undisturbed. You sighed with relief and then noticed the blood coating your hands. When you turned around, Daryl was staring at you. 

“That was close,” You said, reaching into one of the bags to grab a water bottle and two of the only towels you have. After quickly washing away your face and hands, you handed the towel to Daryl, but he shook his head. 

“Gotta hit the road,”

***

Turning back around added another twenty minutes onto your trip, but you quickly started to recognize where you were. Your stomach tightened in nervousness, and you picked at the dried blood in your fingernails. 

Daryl seemed to pick up on your anxiety. “Don’ gotta worry. They’ll be cool with ya, might have to feel ya out first but it’ll be good. We need more people to help. We got a man who got bit the day before last. He might not wake up. We need more.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything. The sun was now high in the sky, beating down on you. Sweat was dripping on the bridge of your nose. The wind helped, but it was like blowing hot air on you. 

“I trust you, Daryl,” You finally said, “It’s the others I’m worried about….” He nodded but didn’t say anything. “Next exit. You’ll probably know how to get there from here.” 

You were right; once off the exit, Daryl knew how to return. Your stomach twisted in more anxiety, and you felt like you were going to throw up. As the prison tower came into view between the trees, you wanted, more than anything, to turn around and go back to the treehouse. But that was well over twenty miles away, and you and Tora nearly died getting here. 

The gates appeared, and Daryl honked the horn a few times. You saw a kid at the gate who hesitated briefly before opening them up. Daryl slowed the car to a stop and glanced at you. “Be aight,”

You said nothing before slowly getting out of the car and looking at the kid. His gun was locked and loaded, but it wasn’t raised. 

“Who’s this?”

“Your father back? Glenn and Maggie?” Daryl asked. 

The kid hesitated briefly before nodding, “Got back early this morning. They are getting ready to go out looking for you. Who is this?”

“I’ll look the gates up. Go get your dad for me.” Daryl said. 

The kid tossed Daryl the keys and eyed you carefully before taking off up the hill and toward the prison. You swallowed thickly and went to check on Tora in the back. She must be getting warm with the hot sun on her in the carrier. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.” You softly cooed to her. 

A sudden commotion at the gate caused you to freeze, and you heard a few people yelling. You turned around to see guns raised at you. You took a step forward to block the carrier with your body. 

“Aight, aight, everybod’ calm down,” Daryl said, moving to stand in front of you and the man with the gun. “Rick, this is (Y/N). She was in the town when we lit that fire, scavenging for supplies like us. Probably woulda run into her too. I saw her runnin’ out and thought she was you from a distance. We got pushed further and further away, damn walkers were everywhere,” 

Rick didn’t say anything as he stared at you, clicking the gun. “Why’d you bring her back, Daryl? You know what we gotta do.” 

“Nah, not this time,” Daryl said, “She saved my life. She helped me. She a good person, Rick. She got supplies, medicine, man,l and she got food. She was gonn’ be a doctor before.”

You leaned against the car, watching two other guys with guns. They were following Rick’s lead. You looked back at Rick, who was still staring at you.

“This was her car. Her supplies. She brought me back,” Daryl said, lifting his hand to lower Rick’s weapon. “She’s aight, I wouldn’t bring her back if I didn’ think so.”

“Glenn?”

Everyone’s attention turned back toward the woman walking down the dirt hill. A rifle was squared on her shoulder, but when she saw you, her steps stilled. “(Y/N)?

Your eyes widened as you realized who was standing there. Your mouth opened but no words came out. Hot tears pricked your version and you wanted to take a step forward but there were too many guns on you. “Maggie.”

Maggie dropped her rifle and ran past Glenn and Rick, throwing her body onto yours and hugging you tightly. Her body shook with sobs, and your wall of anxiety fell, and you wrapped yours around hers. 

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Rick said impatiently. 

But you and Maggie ignored him, and she pulled away, looking at your tear-soaked face, and grabbed your shoulders. “I tried to call you guys a million times. Atlanta fell so quickly, and I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to… I thought you were…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” You said, “I did too,” You pulled her in for another hug before your eyes widened, and you looked back. “Beth, Uncle Hershel, Annette…” Your voice trailed off. 

“The farm was overrun. Beth and Dad are here. We’re the only ones. What about you? Liam?”

Your eyes dropped, and you shook your head, “He died saving me, Mags,” You cried, “We were cornered. I couldn’t get to him… he got torn apart right in front of me,”

Maggie immediately wrapped her arms around you and tried to shush your sobs. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re here now.”

You took a deep breath, and it felt like you were alive again for the first time. Like you weren’t some animatronic that did all of its daily tasks because you were designed to, not because you wanted to. 

“Maggie,”

At the sound of her name, Maggie took a step back and looked toward her family. “This is my cousin (Y/N). Her dad is the older brother of mine. She’s family. Lower your weapons.” 

There was a bit of hesitation, but they finally did. With the commotion mostly over, Tora made her presence known and meowed loudly, demanding to be let out. 

“Oh my God,” Maggie laughed, “Of course you got the cat.”

“Damn near died for it today, too,” Daryl said, the first to intrude on you and your cousin’s conversation. “It’s a good cat. Knows how to hunt.” 

Rick approached the car and looked around skeptically, unsure what to think. He poked and prodded through a few things before opening a box with the baby supplies you’d brought. He pulled out a onesie and looked at you. 

“Daryl told me you got a baby comin’,” You said, “I can’t imagine it’s easy finding stuff like that. I wanted to make sure I had a piece offering,”

Rick stared at you briefly before turning to Daryl and nodding once. “Let’s get these supplies inside. I’d like to hear more about how you and Daryl met if that’s alright with you,”

“Rick, she’s family,” Maggie said, “We grew up together, I trust her.”

“It’s okay,” You said, glancing between them. “I’ll answer anything you want to know. After I see my cousin and uncle.”

[sombrashe]

Perception Check Failed

Starlight Part 1

content established relationship, comfort, reader doesn't know what a crush is, heavy kissing

note(s) this is part 1 of a 2 part mini story but can be read as it’s own standalone story

Walking through the ruins of an old building you kicked up anything shiny. Noticing a pattern you determine you wouldn't get anything more than a few empty cans. Sighing you packed up what few cans you could salvage from the soot. Lucy was a few buildings down and you decide to meet up with her. Walking out of the husk you take a sharp left and keep as close to the buildings as possible ready to turn into an alleyway if needed. After a few minutes, you come to Dogmeat sitting patiently outside a still-standing building. Giving her a quick scratch behind the ears you enter the house. The doors are wide open, giving you the perfect view inside. Going room to room you see where Lucy had to exterminate some of the larger bugs plaguing the wasteland. It’s a nice spot. A few rooms surround an open-concept living room with a half-burned kitchen making up the downstairs. Cautiously you scale up the steps and make your way into a large open room with shards of furniture taking up most of the space. Calling out you watch as Lucy sticks her head out from behind a pile of bed frames with a smile lighting up her face.

“Lookie what I found,” She shoves her hand in the air showing off a small bag. “It’s a bag of stimpacks.”

Grinning you hurry over to her hiding spot. Taking the bag, you laugh as you take in the small pile of health. There are about five from what you can see and you gently trace your fingers over a red wire. Tying the bag up you shove it into Lucy’s open pack. She dusts off her hands and slings the pack over her shoulder.

“Not much in this neighborhood, it’s too close to where the bombs dropped.”

“Yeah, I only found a few cans. Thought we could string them together as a noise trap.”

She agrees and follows you down the steps and into the living room. Pausing you take in the clean state of the home. All the furniture had been moved upstairs so that left the rooms nice and empty. Chewing on your bottom lip you think about how much better this house would be.

“What if we stayed here for the night? Actually, stay inside a place for once?”

“We can see how everyone feels. You know Cooper would hate it. He prefers the great outdoors.” She mimics his accent for the last bit and causes both of you to laugh at the idea. You both walk side by side back the few miles to your small camp. You're happy to report nothing major happened on your way back. Going through the minuscule amount of things you brought back you decide now is as good a time as any to bring up your idea.

“I think we should stay in this house me and Luc found. It has plenty of rooms for each of us and it’s only a little ruined.”

You pause from shoving rope through crude holes to look up at the group. Maximus and Thaddeus immediately agree wanting to get out of the blistering heat and even more intense cold. Lucy and you agree alongside them which leaves four against two. Once he realizes it’s up to him and Cooper, Norm begrudgingly agrees.

“This ‘s a terrible idea, Wastelander. What if some’ne finds the place while y’all‘re sleepin’?”

“Maybe grow a backbone for once and actually help us out for once if you notice something?”

He scoffs and goes to continue with you when Lucy cuts him off.

“Okie Dokie, it seems like tensions are getting a little bit high so how about we all take a deep breath and think before we speak. Yeah?”

You take that deep breath, following her instructions as you glare heavily at Cooper. Completing the trap you shove it into your pack before hopping up.

”If we want to make it before sundown we have to go now.”

Making sure everyone was on the same page you start the trek back to the husk of a neighborhood. The miles are spent with Cooper feet away from the rest of the group and everyone paired with a duo. You’re glued to Norm’s hip as you keep a hand wrapped around his forearm. A few weeks ago he woke up almost like a new person. He stopped wearing his fear of the surface on his face and started holding himself with a little more confidence. When you first met he was timid and kept himself as tidy as possible. Always brushing his hair and trying to get it to lay perfectly against his forehead. Now he allows it to hang freely giving him a relaxed appearance. That plus the facial hair that naturally grew along his bottom and top lip have you eating out of the palm of his hand. You already knew you liked him from the first moment you laid eyes on him, but this was something different. Instead of burning in your face when he was near your stomach started to twist and knot every time he tried talking to you. You didn't quite understand why the sudden change but you made sure to keep him updated. Thick streaks of orange and pink fill the sky as you come upon your home for the evening. Entering the building you smile as everyone starts to claim rooms. Thaddeus takes the smallest opposite the kitchen, Lucy and Maximus take the room beside the staircase, and Cooper promises to stay in the living room ‘just in case’. That leaves the last room for you since Norm is suddenly offering to room with Thaddeus.

”What are you talking about? I assumed we would share a room.”

His face shows his signature nothingness and he wordlessly walks into the last empty room. You follow after him confusion written on your face. You think he might be mad at you but you can't think of the why. Clicking the door shut you're lucky that no big chunks are missing so you can speak freely.

“Are you mad at me?”

Your voice is soft like he was capable of snapping. Maybe he is, you determine, not like you’ve ever seen it firsthand. Now it’s his turn to mimic confusion as he looks back at you.

“I thought you were mad at me. You barely speak to me and when you do you won’t look me in the eyes. I assumed you didn't want to be with me right now so I was going to sleep in another room. To give you space.”

Your face heats up as he puts the pieces together for you. Oh. You were the one being distant. You let the bloodworms in your stomach get the better of you.

“It’s my stomach. Every time I get near you it starts to twist. Like when I ate that bad box of mac & cheese but without... everything else. It hurts to be close to you. I can’t look at you because your lips make my ears burn and when you laugh it makes me feel sick.”

“Sounds like you have a crush.”

“Crush? Like I should crush something to make it go away? Will that work?”

“No. A crush like you like someone. You want to be with them.”

“If I wanted to be with you why does it hurt so badly?”

“I don’t know. It’s something weird our bodies do. I feel the same way when I’m near you.”

Your ears perk up at his confession. This is perfect. If he feels the same way then it must be normal. You wonder if Lucy and Max feel the same way about each other. Allowing your pack to fall to the floor you smile as you take out a worn blanket. When Norm escaped the vault his pack carried an extra sleeping bag and you were grateful that tonight was your night with it. Sheepishly you shove your bag next to his. Standing up straight you dive back into your pack hoping he has no objections. Removing the rope of metal cans from inside you exit the room to tie up the front door. Using the holes in the sloped roof you tie up the cans. Taking a step back you admire your work before nodding.

Turning you go to return to your room hoping to get some sleep. Instead, you're stopped by the rumble in your stomach as Lucy comes out with an unopened pack of crams. Smiling she holds up the food and gathers everyone to the main room. Happily sitting down the sounds of human hunger fill the room as she hands out the containers. There are six in the pack and everyone agrees to shill some out in a small pile on the floor for Dogmeat. Norms finds a spot next to you and he ends up sitting so close that your plush thigh is squished against his toned one. Cracking open your cram you spoon some out for the pup before digging in yourself. You're all finished within minutes not a word spoken as you ate. Only the soft sounds of chewing fill the room. When you’re finished you set the can off to the side alongside the rest. Dancing your fingers over Norm’s knee you rise and start for your room. Your stomach feels better now that you have peace of mind. The pain is still there but much more manageable. Entering your shared room you hear the door click behind you and you turn to see Norm looking you over.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

You give him a warm smile, “Yeah. My stomach hurts a lot less. Maybe I was just hungry.”

You let out a laugh but don’t miss the flash of discomfort that covers his face. Even if only a second it causes your stomach to bubble as you go to apologize. He waves you off with a tiny curl of the corners of his mouth. Walking past you he starts to go through his pack. You notice he placed your single blanket over your sleeping bags. Smiling you think about how nice it’s going to be sleeping next to someone with an actual roof over your head for once. Pointing to the side-by-side bags you speak louder than necessary.

“One of those is mine, right?”

He looks at you quizzically and gives you a short laugh. “Yeah? You put it there. The blanket is just for extra warmth.”

You smile and drag your bag to rest beside the bag. Normally a lumpy makeshift pillow but you know it’s better than sand in your ears. Tonight on the other hand you have a relatively clean wooden floor to rest your head on. Possibly even a warm body. You feel heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Instead of dwelling on the feeling you pull your armor and weapons off and place them in a neat pile next to your pack. Next is your outer clothes, A few tops and a pair of jeans get folded neatly behind your bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting undressed. If I’m sleeping inside four walls I’m going to do it comfortably. Why? Does this bother you? Should I put my shirt back on?”

A shake of his head and he starts to follow your lead. His vault suit and tank top is removed leaving him in a pair of briefs. Fuck. He doesn't have your raw muscle mass, but his body is lean and healthy and it causes your entire face to burn feverishly. You can’t stop staring. He notices and moves his hands showing himself off. This movement causes you to snap out of your stupor. Quickly yanking your head up you make eye contact with Norm.

“You like what you see?”

“I was staring.”

“I know. You can. If I can do the same.”

You allow your eyes to drift down and nod slowly. You don’t mind him staring at you and it allows you to take in his figure some more. Your mind starts to wander and you're left hugging yourself around the middle as you think about all the things you want to do.

“Can we kiss? I want to feel you.”

Your voice comes out stronger than you anticipated. Luckily it works in your favor and he opens his arms wider giving you an invitation to come closer. You do, taking a few normal steps towards him even if your body feels like a leaf in a radstorm. When you're right in front of him you waste no time in cupping his cheeks and pulling him close. Pressing soft lips together you move in sync. You’re a little more awkward than his confident movements but they work in tandem. One hand leaves his cheek to squeeze at his bicep. His hands decide the best place to be is on your wide hips. He squeezes at the slightly exposed flesh there, using his position to raise your tank top higher so he can get more of your flesh between his fingers. You sigh into his mouth as you press your chest closer to his. Darting your tongue out you rub the tip against his bottom lip. He obliges and opens his mouth enough for you to explore it with your tongue. You do for a few moments, feeling the ridges of his teeth with the flat part of your tongue. You feel how his nose flares against your cheek as he angles his head downwards. After a few moments of panting and touching you force yourself to pull away.

“Wow.”

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[pedrostylez]

Next Time

pairing: Joel Miller neighbor!au x fem!reader

summary: No outbreak, not canon in the slightest, Joel Miller as your neighbor growing up. You've returned home from grad school for winter break after your long-term boyfriend broke up with you

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count: 4.9k

warnings etc: No outbreak Joel, no Sarah, age gap (9 years) mentioned and defined, fluff, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), food consumed, semi-public? Chance of getting caught?

A/N: This is the prologue to "Don't" with not all of the background mentioned. I think this will end up being a 3 part? Idk, maybe 4 max. Anywho, be gentle with me.

It had been easy to find comfort in Joel. 

The rush of wind around your face made you shiver, once hot tears streaming down your face drying quickly and leaving behind a sting of cold. You huffed out a breath, running your wrist against your face to try and remove the wetness as more sprung from your eyes. It was pitiful how you were crying over this, but you had spent two years with him. 

Jason had met your family, your friends, your goddamn neighbor that you’ve had a crush on since he moved in, and he just…broke up with you. Let you help him pack up his car for winter break, let you get on your knees and give him a blow job, and then tell you that he wanted to take a break. That you were too much. 

You were too much, as far as you were concerned. Too clingy, too needy, too much of just about everything that Jason hated–

r u home 4 winter break? Or is ur car needing work?

Joel. 

You hadn’t even realized you pulled your phone out of your pocket on your trek to the hiking trail you used to sit at with your friends. Memories of asking Joel to pick you up and drop you off at the head of the trail so that your parents didn’t know you had snuck out flashed through your mind as you typed your response. 

At hiking trail rn

It wasn’t really an answer to his question, but it was all you were willing to give. You sat on a rock just barely out of the view of the gravel lot, wiping at your eyes again and sighing. You could sit here for a bit longer before having to explain to your mom why you were back in town. 

Joel frowned at the text you sent him, glancing up at your car again. He had just arrived home from a long day of work and felt something warm in his stomach at the site of your beat-up vehicle sitting in the driveway. The last time he spoke to you was over 6 months ago, when you and your boyfriend were visiting your mom, and Joel had helped change your oil. 

He always seemed to help you with your car, and he was positive he was the reason it was still running. From his first introduction to you at 17 years old, crying while your car smoked in your driveway, he had always been your go-to neighbor.

If you were at the hiking trail that was only a mile away from the neighborhood, you were upset. He had watched you enough times running from your back door while your dad yelled after you to know where you would go. 

He debated asking if you wanted to be alone but decided to hop back in his truck and head in that direction. He could walk himself, but the look of the sky told him you were going to be rained down on any minute and thought better of it. 

You heard the engine of Joel’s truck within five minutes and scoffed out loud. Of course he was here. You turned your head to watch the trail, listening to his boots hit the gravel, his sigh as he began walking right toward you. He couldn’t see you, but he knew well enough where you were. 

When Joel comes into eyesight you have to hold your breath, trying to not show how surprised you are by how he looks. How long has it been since you last saw him? The broadness of his chest, the way his shirt tightened around his arms as he crossed them–

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.” He drawls, smirking at you. Does he have to do that? “It looks like it is going to rain. Figured you didn’t want to walk home in that.”

You snort out a laugh, glancing up to the sky while you unknowingly give Joel access to look at your neck and chest for longer than he normally would. “You’re right.” You look back over at him, his ears are red with what you think is annoyance, and try to act nonchalant. “How’s it going?”

He shrugs at you, moving his hands to his pockets before looking around and leaning against a nearby tree. “It’s about how it’s always been, sweetheart. You staying for the whole winter break or just visiting for the day?” 

You and Joel had always been straightforward with each other. It was easiest that way, with how passive your mom was and how aggressive your dad was. You knew that the first time Joel moved in and saw you panicking in your driveway over your car that he was going to always tell you like it was-no bullshit. It had developed into more of a one-sided pining, asking Joel for his number to help you with your car or to ask him for a ride if you needed it. But he had always agreed, helping you when he could and being a person for you to rely on. 

You take a deep breath to gather the courage to tell him. “I’m probably going to stay for the whole break. Don’t want to stay in the apartment all winter long.” 

“Why’s that?”

You pause, looking up at him and biting the inside of your lip to not cry. You didn’t see Joel’s eyes soften at the first hint of just how upset you were. “Jason….broke up with me.” 

He grunts, taking a step toward your place on the rock and crouching down in front of you. Your eyes widen in shock; he’s never been this close to you willingly. Under your car holding a light for him or next to him in his truck is just not the same. His hands reach forward, resting on your knees and giving you a squeeze before saying “Never liked him anyways darlin’. You’re too good for him.”

You feel your eyes well up with tears and try to blink them away, surprised again when Joel reaches forward and wipes at your cheek. What you were warring with bubbled over and out of your mouth before you could think about it. “It feels like I wasted two years of my life, Joel.”

He sighed, holding your face in his hands and you tilted into him subconsciously. He doesn’t know what else to say, or what to tell you, so he offers “Let’s go to the diner? I’ll get you French toast like how you used to get it.”

You smile softly, holding back a giggle as blood rushes to your cheeks. “Sure. I could go for that.”

Joel is watching you from the corner of his eye in his truck, and how on edge you truly are. You are hiding it well, but he knows you. Knows that you are still upset, still feeling like you wasted your life on Jason. He could murder that kid right now. 

The whole ride is quiet, the sound of rain splattering his windshield starts soon after he leaves the hiking trail, your soft puffs of breath fogging the window that you’re looking out of. He pulls into the diner, parking in the back of the lot, and turns to you before you can get out and grab your knee. He doesn’t know why he can’t keep his hands off you. 

“You didn’t waste your life, sweetheart.” He starts, wincing internally at how he can’t seem to hold back the pet names. “He’s just…he’s a boy–”

“We are both 25, Joel. I know that’s young but plenty of people get married before then–” You start to get riled up, face flushing red and tears brimming your eyes before you cover your face. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “Two years of my life I thought I was going to marry him and then he fucking tells me that I’m too much work! And that I’m too clingy!” 

“You’re not those things.” Joel grounds out, trying to keep from letting his anger show. The idea that someone who you loved would say those things to you made his blood boil. “Jason is a boy. He doesn't know what he really wants besides someone to do his laundry and cook his food.”

You lean back against the passenger seat and sigh, shaking your head and leaning against the window. You had been cooking meals for Jason, had done his laundry plenty of times, and thought nothing of it. You felt weak, ready to cry at any moment, and it made you feel pitiful. 

“Don’t let him affect you like that.” Joel pushes, frowning at you and squeezing your leg. When you look at him, his eyes soften with a tilt of his head. “The right guy will come along who doesn’t want to marry his mother. I know you took care of him more than you should have.”

Joel feels the heat from your leg seep through your jeans and into his hand, making his heart jump before he pulls his hand away. “Let’s go eat. I’ll take care of you today.”

Swooning wasn’t a sufficient word. 

I’ll take care of you today. 

Did Joel even know what he was saying to you? Did he understand that later you would lay in your bed and think of him while you slid your fingers through your folds? You’re doing your best to not look completely flustered, stumbling out of his vehicle and loping beside him to the front door of the diner. Your breath hitched in your throat when Joel guided you inside with his hand wrapping around your waist for an instant, forcing you to walk faster to keep up and stay out of the rain. 

You’re still thinking about what he said as the waitress brings two plates of French toast to your table, piled high with butter and maple syrup flowing over the sides and onto the table in tiny drops. Joel’s smile to you makes your heart skip, shoveling a piece of the breakfast food into your mouth to cover it up. 

Joel’s eyes stay glued to you, slurping on a freshly brewed cup of coffee. You take another bite of your French toast, cinnamon sugar swirled into the bread, sighing heavily when the melted butter hits your tongue. The warmth of the bread, and the sweetness of the maple syrup, give you enough confidence to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like Jason?”

Joel pauses his sipping, raising his eyebrows at you. He gives you a quick shrug before glancing at the table behind you. “Not my place.” He says quietly, looking down at his food and dragging a piece of his food through a sea of syrup. “You liked him, I wasn’t going to tell you otherwise.” 

You huff at that, giving him a look that tells him you want him to explain more. When he doesn’t, you set your fork down and cross your arms on the table. “I would have appreciated someone saying something.”

Joel grunts, not fully convinced as he takes the last bite of his French toast. “No, you wouldn’t have darlin’. I’m just your neighbor, and me pulling you aside to say that Jason wasn’t the one would have been a quick way to get my nose broken.” He laughs, looking up at you. 

You’re quiet, letting his laugh die out before mumbling. “You’re not…just my neighbor Joel.” His eyes widen briefly, your food forgotten as you stare at him. Debating on how to tell him you relied on him more than anyone, how he was a sanctuary in all your issues at home even though Joel knew very few details, you sigh out, “You’ve helped me in more ways than one and…you live next door but you’re more like–”

“Don’t say a brother,” Joel mumbles, raising his eyebrows at you jokingly. Deep in the back of his mind, he’s hoping that he hasn’t come across that way.  

“I wasn’t! You’re not.” You pause, laughing full-bellied. The idea is so ridiculous that you blurt out, “I wouldn’t have a crush on someone that I see like a brother–”

It feels like the world stops turning when you realize what has just left your mouth, looking up to Joel’s coughing, coffee sputtering out back into his cup. Your eyes widen in panic, watching him set his cup back down and red rush back to the tips of his ears. You would almost think he looks excited beyond the surprise, but you can’t dwell on it. 

It’s only a split second before you make the decision to book it out of the diner. You trip over your feet, pushing into the glass door and into the rain as you vaguely hear Joel calling your name. You don’t bother to turn back, regretting even saying anything at all. You should have just let Joel say he was only your neighbor and leave it at that. 

Tears are running down your face again, down the sidewalk and through someone's side yard to the trail that you know is there. You feel stupid and pitiful again, admitting to having a crush on your neighbor who is 9 years older than you while also having him console you over a long-term breakup. 

You quickly make the decision to cut through the hiking trail, back to the gravel lot where Joel had first picked you up, and then back to your house. Maybe you could even make it to your car before Joel realized where you went and you can drive back to campus because this is more embarrassing than coming home and crying about Jason.

Joel doesn’t know what to do watching you almost smack your face against the door handle as you rush out of the diner. He tries to call you back, feeling embarrassed for making you uncomfortable. He didn’t mean to start choking on his coffee when he heard you admit that you had a crush on him. Currently, have a crush on him? He wasn’t sure. Something in his gut wanted to find out desperately. 

He pulled his wallet out roughly to pay the bill, getting out of the booth and opening the door at the same time he sees you cut through someone's yard. “Shit!” He says out loud, striding quickly over to his truck and hopping in the driver’s seat. He had to beat you home, or at least stop you from whatever it was that you were going to do. 

Joel is tapping on his wheel as he drives up the road to the hiking trail when he sees you, drenched and running on the sidewalk heading in the opposite direction. You most certainly see him, eyes widening and freezing in place as if a scared animal and don’t know where to go. Joel pulls over, rolling his window down and leaning closer to the opening. “Why did you run off?” He says sharply, eyebrows furrowed together. 

He doesn’t mean to come off harsh but knows he has when you respond with. “I freaked out. I’m sorry-”

“Would you get in the truck?” He amends, reaching for the handle and opening it towards you as an invitation. He waits for you to make a decision, watching you closely to see if you will bolt again. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” He concedes, watching you take a deep breath before begrudgingly sliding into the vehicle and slamming the door shut behind you.  While you try to get ahold of yourself, wiping at your cheeks and flicking your hair behind your shoulder, Joel waits patiently. He can’t help but reach over and place his hand on your leg again, even when you tense up. “It’s alright.” 

You huff again, pulling your hand back into your lap. “I’m sorry.” You say quietly, glancing at his hand on your leg and shut your eyes tightly. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just meant that I used to have a crush on you. Like when I was 17, or something.”

Joel holds back his sigh, knowing that any type of response might set you off to run again. He hides the fact that his chest deflates at the idea that it was a teenage crush, rather than a current one. He reels himself in at the thought that he is actually disappointed, beating himself up mentally that he shouldn’t have hoped you still liked him-he’s convinced that he is too old for you. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He mumbles, looking over at you. “You just surprised me. No harm.”

You nod quickly, looking down at your hands and at his on your knee. He gives you another squeeze to bring your attention back up to him. “For what it’s worth,” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before saying, “You’re beautiful, and I would be lucky for you to have a crush on me.” 

You stare at him in shock, waiting for him to take it back.

When he doesn’t, you find yourself leaning towards him and pressing your lips to his cheek lightly, testing the waters. You pull back just enough to watch his reaction, before leaning in again and moving your lips to his. 

He’s frozen for only an instant more before his fingers curl into the back of your hair, wet from the rain, and pulling your face towards his. You can’t believe this is happening, wondering if maybe you actually fell and hit your head on your way out of the diner, and this is just some coma-induced dream. 

It feels more real when Joel’s hand trails down from the back of your head to your neck, giving you a light squeeze and then pulling himself away from you. He’s breathing heavily, slowly removing his hands from you before pressing them to the steering wheel and blinking rapidly. 

He knows he shouldn’t have reciprocated. He knows he shouldn’t have said anything. He wonders if he should have just let you run home like you had planned. 

You’re wondering if he’s regretting what just happened between you as he puts the truck in gear and turns it around in the gravel lot just ahead, driving back to your neighborhood. Anxiety roils in your stomach as he pulls up to your house and puts the truck in park, not even looking at you as he waits for you to exit. 

You do just that, wondering how much more you will cry tonight when you slam the door behind you.

The next day, after you walked into your house and were bombarded by questions from your mom and dad, you’re debating even getting up. The bed is too small, but the blankets are warm and your pillow is comfortable, and the idea of having to explain in more detail before your parents go to work gives you the worst feeling. 

You glance out your window where the curtain has shifted, and notice that Joel’s truck is still in the driveway. You wonder vaguely if he has the day off from his job in construction when you hear a knock on your door. 

Your mom only knocks to give you a warning that she is coming in, your door yawning open as you huff out a small “What?”

“Just letting you know I’m heading to work and your dad is soon as well.” She says quietly, tapping her fingers against the door knob. “Do you have plans today?”

You roll your eyes before turning over to face her. “Wallow in self-pity and cry some more.” You say sarcastically, watching her shake her head at you in mild disgust. 

“Do the dishes, won’t you?” She says back, walking into the room to give you a kiss on the head before walking out and leaving the door open. 

You sigh heavily and wait another 30 minutes, listening to your dad groan to himself before leaving and locking the door behind him. You wonder vaguely if you have a spare key still hidden under the back step, and if you’ll be able to leave the house today. Maybe you could actually go on a hike. 

Motivation takes over you as you stand, stretching for a minute before finding clothes you would be comfortable in for the day. A simple walk may be all you need to move past Jason breaking your heart today. You don’t know what will push your shared kiss with Joel out of your brain. 

Joel is drinking the last bits of his coffee when he sees you step out your back door and check under a potted plant, nodding to yourself and walking away without so much as a glance toward his house. He had planned on not reaching out to you-let you figure out what you wanted and then pretend that nothing occurred if that was what you wanted. It was only the next day, after all. 

In a split second after watching you head towards that damn hiking trail, Joel rinses his cup and steps out into the yard. You’re too far away to have noticed he has appeared, but he wonders if he should go after you, or if he should take his truck with him. Does he have an excuse to bring the truck? He glances up at the sky briefly, already knowing that it wasn’t supposed to rain again for another couple of days. Trailing behind you without saying anything is just creepy, and he doesn’t want to be that person–

His legs carry him at a brisk pace, boots thumping on the ground and his jeans riding lower with every step. When he calls your name he internally cringes at how you lift your shoulders and freeze, turning just your head around to look at him. “Hold on just a second.” He calls, jogging up to where you have paused. 

You give him this look that makes him want to laugh, but he understands. You look frightened of your own embarrassment, trying to mask it with indifference. When he stops next to you and takes a deep breath, he doesn’t really know what his plan is. “You going on a walk?”

You nod, swallowing and shuffling in place for a moment. “Was going to attempt to actually hike instead of just sit there.”

He hums, taking a step in the direction you were going. “I’m off today, mind if I join you?”

He knows you’re pretending to not care just as much as he is, but you smile at him and agree, walking alongside him up to the head of the trail.

You’re about two minutes into this hike, and both you and Joel are out of breath. You haven’t spoken more than when he first caught up with you, and you don’t think you want him to. Pausing to catch your breath doesn’t seem like an option if you really don’t want to talk, so you continue on the path, going up higher on this hill.

Glancing over at Joel makes your face turn red, realizing he is in his boots and jeans that he keeps tugging up, and a dark blue shirt that will likely be covered in sweat if you continue at this pace. He could turn back if he didn’t want to do this walk with you, but you know that he didn’t come to actually walk. He wants to say something, and if you just don’t let him get the chance–

“Can you just, hold on for a second.” Joel puffs out, stopping and placing his hands on his hips. He’s trying to catch his breath, holding his mouth slightly open and furrowing his brow at you. “When the hell did you start walking so fast?”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you at the ridiculous question. You are walking fast, but the point was to not talk. You aren’t going to admit that to him. “Just moving with a purpose.”

Joel sighs, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Can we talk?”

You immediately start shaking your head, taking another step forward. “No, Joel I don’t want–”

His hand wraps around your wrist gently, pulling you towards him to get you to stop in place. Your heart picks up the pace, closing your eyes to try and stay calm. “Look at me, please.”

When you don’t turn he yanks on your arm again, forcing you to spin into him and bump into his chest with a huff. You open your eyes to only look down, noticing the way his chest rises and falls against yours is erratic, almost like he can’t control himself. 

He says your name quietly, forcing your eyes up to his with his hand under your chin. You stare at him, unsure what his motives are, mind going into overdrive. What is the purpose of this? What does he want to talk about? You’re convincing yourself that yesterday was a mistake and that Joel wouldn’t want you the way that you’ve wanted him when he leans forward and presses his lips to yours again. 

Your eyes flutter shut when he pushes forward to you again, pulling back for a moment to inhale heavily and pressing his tongue out to yours. Brushing it against the seam of your lips to ask permission, sliding his hand up from your wrist into the back of your hair. 

You pull away suddenly after getting lost in his touch, eyes widening at him as he slowly lifts his gaze. “You don’t want me.” You breathe out, leaning further away from him. 

He tsks at you, tightening his grip and holding you in place. “I shouldn’t.” He confirms, leaning back forward and attaching his lips to yours again. 

What happens next seems natural. The way that he kisses your neck and pulls away only to find somewhere secluded off the trail, makes your head spin. How this is happening is beyond you, but your body is alight with desire and bubbling with excited anxiety. 

Joel can’t help but want to watch you only; make you feel good after yesterday's turmoil of Jason, of the diner, of kissing in his truck. He wants to convey to you that he wants you, and the only way to do that is to get on his knees for you while you’re pinned against this rock.

His fingers are gentle, cautious, and waiting for you to give the go-ahead before pulling the waistband of your pants down to your ankles and sliding one of your legs out. He’s quick to pull it over his shoulder, hands supporting your hips as he slowly and methodically explores you with his tongue. 

You bite your lip at the sight of his eyes looking back at you, his pink tongue reaching out to your slit and groaning with want at how you taste. “Oh, darlin’, if I had known this is how you taste–” He cuts himself off with another exploration of his tongue. “I would have said something sooner.”

The “something” that he would have said is lost on you, and easy to not dwell on as his tongue dips lower to your opening and barely enters to feel the smooth skin there. You sigh happily, closing your eyes and leaning your head back into the bark with a dull “thunk”. 

Joel feels his head spinning, his internal monologue telling him this is wrong, but unable to stop at the thought of seeing you let go. To see you completely relaxed in front of him is something he didn’t know he craved, but your plush legs surrounding him and your long neck exposed as you look up toward the sky makes his pants tighten with need and the want to see you come undone. 

And soon enough his tongue helps you do exactly that. Your hand pushes through his hair and yanks, feeling overwhelmed at the idea that Joel is the one to do this. “I’m close–I’m gonna–”

Joel doesn’t let up, pushing himself closer to your center and wrapping his lips around your clit. The suction and flick of his tongue is all you need, breath hitching in your throat and closing your eyes at the sensation. You come so heavily that Joel is seriously holding you up, fingers digging into your skin as your legs shake. 

When you come down your breath is coming out ragged, looking down at him to see his chin is covered with your wetness, a small smirk on his lips. He leans his head against your thigh that is still hanging over his shoulder, a sigh fanning over your center. He clears his throat, taking one hand and wiping his chin before patting your leg and helping you set it down. “I would have told you Jason was an ass sooner.” He clarifies, eyes bouncing between your own. 

Your face goes red again, his fingers pulling up the waistband of your pants as he stands up. He leans against you, his hard-on poking against your leg as you reach for it, wanting to reciprocate before he stops you. You look up at him again, furrowing your eyebrows at him in confusion. 

He gives you a small smile, sighing heavily before saying. “Next time, darlin’.”

[lovelytsunoda]

gimme! gimme! gimme! ( a man after midnight ) // marcus armstrong

summary: after graduating college and moving back home to sebring, florida to live with her parents, y/n becomes infatuated with the young man from new zealand who just moved in across the street

pairing: marcus armstrong x female! reader

warnings: money troubles, moving back in with the parents and losing the independence that comes with being a college student living on your own, parental expectations, difficult sibling relationship, implied smut,

author's note: why did it take me this long to write for marcus my beloved? i also kind of hate the ending but i wasn't sure where to end it soooooo

the sebring sun beat down against the road, heat waves visibly radiating off the pavement as y/n turned down on to the street where she grew up.

a street she swore she'd never come back to, until she realized that she couldn't afford to live anywhere else.

her manicured fingers tapped against the steering wheel in rapid succession as the bass guitar thrumming from the asking alexandria album she was listening to completely shook the chassis of her pickup truck.

well, her dad's old pickup truck.

a new car wasn't an expense that she could afford while she was away at school. but she loved that old truck like her life depended on it, right down to the squishy silicone alien bobblehead that sat on the dashboard, the stack of cd's that rested in the center console, the truck itself too old for bluetooth.

she turned on to her interlock driveway, defeatedly parking the truck behind her mother's five year old mercedes. she had just bought that car when y/n went off to school.

the y/l/n's weren't poor by any means: they still had money for family vacations, renovations on the house, to send their daughter to university. but they lived within their means, which meant budgeting out what was necessary and important and what was not.

and sometimes that meant making sacrifices. like moving back with your parents and younger sister after finishing your higher education pathway.

now she had a diploma, but no job, no house, no boyfriend and no prospects.

she cut the engine, deciding that it was better just to rip the band aid off now as she leaped from the cab of the truck, grabbed her backpack from the back seat and began the walk of shame to the front door.

"hey, mom." she said with a small, sad smile as her mother opened the front door, engulfing her in a warm, motherly embrace that made the smile on y/n's face grow a little happier.

"welcome home, sweetheart. let me go find your father and we'll help you bring your things inside."

ten minutes later, the y/l/n family, with the exception of y/n's sister shiloh, who was nowhere to be found, stood on the driveway with a foldable wagon cart from costco, unloading cardboard boxes and massive plastic tupperware containers from the flatbed of the old ford truck.

as nice as it was to be home, she felt like she was losing her independence.

she stacked a cardboard box in the cart before pressing up on her tip toes and leaning back to stretch her arms and her back, limbs still stiff from the drive in from tampa.

she paused to take a look around the neighborhood, taking in how much it had all changed. house prices had skyrocketed in the last ten years, and now the houses in the area were almost triple the price that her father had paid in the early nineties when he first bought the house.

but what really stuck out to her was the bright red high end mercedes amg sports car that sat in the driveway of the house across the street. the house that once belonged to the nice old woman that babysat y/n and shiloh when they were kids.

"who bought the noonan house?"

her father stopped moving boxes to look over at the house across the street. "oh, his name is marcus. great young man, he's about your age."

"he's my age and he can afford a house, while i have to move back in with you lot? that's absolutely fucking great." y/n groaned, looking back at the house. "and that car is at least three times the cost of mom's, and that's without the upgrade package."

her dad shrugged. "If you had taken my advice and gone into trades, that could have been you, kiddo."

"oh, fuck off."

"hey, watch your language." her mom warned, taking a tupperware container up to the front door. "he's a sweet, hardworking young man."

"what does he do for work?"

"he works in the automotive industry."

"and that's why you like him so much." she sighed, grabbing the handle of the wagon and following her mother back up to the house.

her father had always had big expectations for her. cars were the family legacy: her father's father had been the groundskeeper at sebring international speedway. her father had worked the assembly line at chevrolet before retiring and opening his own garage where he restored custom cars as a side hustle. she had been expected to also go into the automotive trade, as the son her father never had.

but that hadn't been what she wanted, as much as she loved cars. she'd been watching endurance races at sebring since before she could walk, and she learned how to use a monkey wrench before she learned what a curling iron did. her real calling was business. the four years of human resources training, and the diploma that had been mailed to her house had proven that.

she wasn't sure if her father had even hung it up anywhere.

she walked down the hallway, gingerly opening the pristine white door to her childhood bedroom. the walls were still painted the same pale purple, cluttered with canvasses that she had painted years ago, a twin bed in the middle of the room with a white down comforter and a pile of build a bears resting against the pillows.

"welcome home, y/n." she sighed to herself.

--------

three days later, the only peace that she could get was outside with the cicadas and the mosquitos. given sebring's proximity to the everglades, there was no small number of pests hovering in the muggy summer air as y/n pulled her hair back and popped open the hood of the pickup truck. there was a ratchet in her back pocket and a cropped, grease-stained white tank top.

any color darker than that and she feared she would get heat stroke.

she leaned over the engine, radio playing in the background as she began to fight with the engine's glow plugs, which she had been meaning to replace for almost a week.

"stupid fucking glow plugs. they're the easiest thing to replace, he said. it's easier to do it yourself, he said. well, why don't you fucking do it yourself, father dearest." she muttered, losing grip on the ratchet again and trying not to kick at the tyres. "motherfucker."

her head was still under the hood when the guest came strolling up her driveway.

"do you need help with that?"

"no, i don't need help, especially not from a man." she snapped, turning to look at the man standing across from her. "i can change a glow plug myself, thank you very much."

the man smirked. "well, i don't even know what a glow plug is, so you already know more than me."

withdrawing from the engine block, she twirled the ratchet in her hands as she turned to look at the man. "where's that accent from?"

"new zealand. i'm marcus, i live across the street."

she narrowed her eyes. this kiwi beanpole was the man that her father was so entranced with? this beanpole who didn't even know what a glow plug was worked in the automotive industry?

"y/n. my father speaks highly of you." she nodded in the direction of marcus' house. "you bought the noonan house? mrs. noonan was my babysitter, you know. from when i was five until i was fifteen. i loved that old woman."

"your dad did all the interior work for me. he's a craftsman, that's for sure." marcus nodded along. "back from uni for a few weeks?"

she'd deny it if you asked, but that statement cut deep. what hurt even more was that she would have to admit to him that she was moving back in with her parents. that she couldn't afford to maintain her independence, stand on her own two feet.

"actually, i just moved back home for good. i can't afford to move out." she sighed, moving to sit on the front steps of the house. "i forgot how hard my family was to live with. i've only been home for three days and i swear i've come this close to strangling shiloh. have you met shiloh yet?"

marcus laughed. "she's a firecracker. i don't think she likes me very much."

y/n grinned, inviting marcus to sit next to her. "she's sixteen. i don't think she likes anybody. ever since she dyed her hair black and got her nose pierced, she's been a different person. a person that i don't know how to relate to any more."

"i'm sure she'll come around. my sister is like, the complete opposite of me. paris thinks i'm full of shit half the time, but we love each other still. i know paris will always be there for me, and i'll always be there for paris."

y/n gestured at the car in marcus' driveway. "so how does a guy like you afford an amg and a three bedroom family home? because you sure as hell don't work in the automotive industry."

marcus raised an eyebrow, a small gesture that made her stomach do somersaults for reasons she couldn't explain. "what makes you so sure?"

"you didn't even know what a glow plug is. all diesel engines need them to run. i learned that when i was twelve years old, you would have learned in high school auto shop. so what do you really do? stripping? black market drugs?"

the kiwi laughed, throwing his head back. "i'm a podcaster, and i work in racing. telling your dad i worked in the auto industry seemed like the best way to get on his good side. he's a good contractor."

racing. something that once brought her so much joy but now left a bad taste in her stomach. she hadn't been to the speedway since she moved out.

"racing is in my blood. i was raised at the track because my grandfather was the groundskeeper. i remember watching the indycar race on his shoulders when i was seven years old, a chip ganassi hat that was three sizes too big resting on my head. i couldn't see a thing." she smiled at the memory. "my dad worked the assembly line at chevy, with some contracting on the side once he learned my mom was expecting me. after he retired he started restoring custom cars part-time, and i think he always hoped that i'd take on the family business with him."

"and you didn't?" marcus seemed surprised. obviously he expected that the girl in the skimpy top and cutoff shorts and the astrology tattoo on the inside of her wrist who cursed like a sailor when things didn't go her way would feel right at home in a garage, ratchet in her hand and wrench in her back pocket.

"i went into human resources. i couldn't stay in a garage all day, breathing in grease and lead paint day in and day out, wondering if things could have been different."

"do you regret it?"

she sighed, biting her bottom lip in a motion that sent a rush of energy through marcus' body. "i don't know yet."

as the silence became awkward, y/n got to her feet again, reaching out a hand to help marcus up. "come on, you're going to learn about glow plugs today."

----------------

"shiloh, can you keep it down?" y/n shouted, staring numbly at the resume on her computer screen. nobody told her that she'd be graduating without a single prospective job offer, and now she was scrambling to find a proper hr job, otherwise she'd end up working the counter at white castle.

she was in the basement, at the table she used to use to finish assignments in high school. the floor, once shining hardwood, was now adorned with rice mats for her sister, who was currently cycling through her second workout video, the basement filled with the younger girl's grunts and the sounds of weights knocking against the padded floor.

"i'm trying to do my workout." shiloh answered coolly. "i have a tournament in three weeks."

"i don't give a fuck, shiloh, i'm trying to find a job so that i don't have to live with mom and dad until im thirty years old."

shiloh rolled her eyes, turning back to her kettle bell weights. "they're always hiring at sonic burger."

"i'm not working in fast food for the rest of my life, jackass! i spent thousands of dollars trying to get this goddamn degree and now i can't even use it for anything!"

"should have listened to dad and gone into the trades. maybe you aren't trying hard enough."

"shut the fuck up, shiloh!"

"girls!" mrs. y/l/n called. "what is going on down here?"

shiloh pause her youtube video, getting to her feet. despite the four years between them, shiloh towered over her older sister, and was often confused for the older one. "y/n keeps interrupting my workout."

y/n gawked. "i was here first! and i'm trying to get a job, at the only damn desk in this house, and shiloh can't even give me ten minutes of peace because it's 'her routine' and i'm 'being disruptive'."

"well, your sister's workout is important. she's a high performance athlete."

"i don't give a shit, mom!"

"language, y/n! go upstairs and work at the dining room table, stop fighting with your sister. you've only been back home for a week!"

"yeah, ande it's like you don't have space for me here anymore!" y/n shouted, slamming her laptop shut and running up the basement stairs, trying not to cry.

this is the last way she expected her life after college to go: hunting for jobs in her moms basement, her sister telling her that she wasn't trying hard enough to get hired anywhere other than a fast food restaurant who would hire anybody off the streets during the busy months.

she couldn't even stand to be in that house, walking right out the front door and striding across the street to the noonan house without even looking to see if there were any cars on the road.

she walked past the mercedes, hand curled into a fist as she knocked on the front door, hoping and praying that a certain podcaster was home.

"y/n?" marcus' voice was soft and concerned after he opened the front door. "what are you doing here?"

"can i get some work done here? i'm trying to fix my resume so that i don't end up working at white castle for the rest of my life and i can't get anything done with shiloh around."

“of course,” marcus laughed “I’ll open a bottle of aperol spritz?”

"god, yes!" she breathed out, stepping into marcus' front hall and slipping out of her flip flops before she followed him into a large open concept main room, a kitchen island running down the middle. the back wall had been all replaced with sets of french doors that were more window than door, letting light into the bright, modern space.

"you're house is incredible. i don't think mrs. noonan updated this place since the sixties."

marcus chuckled, grabbing a glass wine bottle from the counter. "don't i know it. the master bathroom still had a green toilet. a green bloody toilet."

"oh god." y/n laughed, sitting at the island and opening her laptop. "can i trouble you for the wifi password?"

once marcus got her hooked up to the internet, she pulled up her cv, looking at the sad, small list of qualifications she had. she'd been lucky enough that she hardly ever had to work over the summer or in high school. everything on her resume were the community service hours she was required to get to graduate secondary school and the one paid position she did for the town of sebring three years ago.

"i'm never going to get a fucking job, am i?" she groaned quietly as marcus passed her a wine glass filled halfway with aperol spritz. "i'm going to be working a fast food counter at an all night mcdonalds."

"you could always work for me." marucs shrugged. "not to brag, but i just signed a major indycar deal with chip ganassi and i'm trying to expand my team, both with podcasting and racing."

"hang on, podcasting and racing?" y/n blinked, looking up from the screen, blue light still glowing onto her floral patterned shirt. "you're a racing driver? you could have mentioned that!"

marcus laughed as y/n reached over the counter to swat at his arm. "what? i assumed you would have googled me!"

"i have better things to do than google my neighbours!"

"i'm being serious, look me up right now."

y/n rolled her eyes before typing marcus' name into the search bar (after bothering him for his last name, which she realized she didn't already know).

"well shit. i'm staring at the newest driver of the ridgeline lube chip ganassi number 11 indycar."

"i told you." marcus grinned goofily, taking a sip of his drink. "seriously, you said you went into hr? we'll need someone like you to be on the podcast team for screaming meals."

y/n smiled softly at the boy across from her. the boy who had already lived more life than she could ever have dreamed of. "yeah, okay. maybe i'll take you up on that."

----------------

it was the first time she had been alone in the house all week, and she was ready to take advantage of that fact.

all week she had been back and forth between the childhood bedroom she was trying to redecorate and marcus armstrong's living room. many a night had been spent sleeping on his couch after a night of shitty comedy movies and cheap supermarket wine.

no, her parents and shiloh had left before six in the morning to take her to a cross country meet in daytona, and they wouldn't be back until well after ten p.m.

the silence was nice, she thought to herself as she paced the house in her soft cotton robe, the hem barely covering her ass, a warm, almost empty mug of hot chocolate in her hands as she drained the last dregs of laura secord and placed the mug on the kitchen counter.

she shut the bathroom door behind her, the heating tubes underneath the tiles warming her cold feet as she connected her bluetooth speaker, 'just like a pill' by p!nk echoing around the room as she leaned into the shower, trying to run the water warm.

the shower sputtered, weakly spitting out three drops of lukewarm water.

"oh for the love of god!" she groaned, pressing her head against the glass shower door. "the one fucking day i have the house to myself."

she sighed, lying down on the floor and opening the doors to the cabinet under the sink. there was a problem with the pipes, the one thing that she couldn't fix (and also didn't want to risk making worse, with things between her and shiloh being particularly tense). cursing under her breath, she reached for her phone.

"hey, marcus. can you come over? there's something up with the pipes in the bathroom and my shower won't start. you wouldn't happen to know how to fix that, would you?"

on the other end of the line, marcus laughed. "funnily enough, that's probably the one thing your dad taught me that he didn't also teach you. let me go and commence the wild goose chase required to find a tool box in this house, and i'll be there in ten minutes."

"you're a lifesaver, armstrong."

true to his word, ten minutes later, marcus armstrong was lying on her bathroom floor, shirt riding up to showcase his perfectly toned abs, muscles rippling under his skin as he tinkered with the pipes. it was taking every bit of self-restraint that y/n had not to cast aside her bathrobe and ride marcus on the heated floor.

she swallowed the thought, closing her eyes as she mentally chastised herself for thinking about her neighbor, and only friend within in a ten mile radius, like that. feeling her nipples hardening under her robe, she crosssd her arms over her chest (and her legs over each other, to try and deal with other issues) in an attempt to hide her arousal from the kiwi.

"i think i've got it!" marcus shouted. "try the shower now!"

grateful for the distraction, she padded over to the massive shower, reaching inside and turning the dial to warm. she let out a sigh of relief as the shower started up, warm water cascading down the rainhead and swirling down the drain.

"marcus armstrong, i could kiss you right now." she beamed, turning back to the man, who was now leaning against the doorframe. "thank you so much. there has to be something i can do in return."

marcus swallowed, realizing now how small the bathroom truly was, despite the size of the rather large shower. and with that realization, he also realized how close to y/n he was standing.

and he could also see the outlines of her nipples poking through the cotton robe, a sight that made him draw in a breath.

he wasn't supposed to think about her like this. not with the season coming up, and her about to start working for him in the screaming meals production department.

it wasn't proper.

but why did it feel so right?

neither of them said a word, marcus' hand coming up to caress the side of her face. refusing to spend any more time overthinking it, he kissed her first, cradling her bottom lip in between both of his.

what started out as a sweet, gentle kiss, quickly became hot and heavy, hands wandering under shirts and robes falling to the floor, shower still running behind them as marcus palmed y/n's ass, a small, sugar-sweet moan leaving her lips.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this." marcus breathed, voice husky as he fumbled with the belt on his jeans. "every time we've watched a movie on my couch, i've wanted to pull the blankets over both of us and take you right there. they day you came running over to my house after shiloh was giving you shit, i wanted to kiss you and tell you everything would work itself out."

"well, now's your chance, armstrong. the shower is big enough for two."

__________

"marcus, can i ask you something?"

two rounds later, they were lying in y/n's bed, the plush white duvet pulled around their bodies. it was a tight squeeze, getting them both to fit on the twin sized mattress. her build a bears had been unceremoniously shoved onto the laminate floor.

"whats on your mind, pretty girl?" marcus asked softly.

"how are we going to make this work? i live with my parents and my teenage sister, for god's sakes. i'm back under their curfew, sleeping in a twin bed in a room that hasn't been redecorated since i was seventeen."

marcus kissed her on the forehead softly, moving to lace his fingers with hers, his hair still damp and ruffled form the shower. "we try, as simple as that. we'll find you a job, and you can stay over at mine however often you want. i can't promise your parents that you'll be back by the time curfew hits, but i can promise them that you're safe with me. and who knows, if this goes really well, maybe you could even move in with me."

y/n laughed softly. "hold your horses, racer boy."

"i'll hold the horses back as long as it takes for you to realize that i'm hopelessly in love with you."

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

Flame-Bright | Part 2

After a literal age..........I finally wrote it. AND LET ME TELL U WHAT. It's not proofread, that's for sure! Genre: BFFS to ???? in this part, sports statistician!part time model!seungcheol x fem!fashion designer!reader Check out pt 1 for warnings, all still apply, DEFINITELY a menty b is described pretty generously and it is almost exactly how I experience bad bad bad mental health days. no smut in this part, there miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight be some *closed door* or implied smut in the next (and final) part. Also sorry if the end feels rushed....................................I have no good excuse just kind of wanted to write the next part because this part was SO angsty and hard for me to write. ALSO healthy levels of angst in this one, reader is DUMB AF sorry if that's frustrating, etc etc etc peace and love and sorry for all the warnings I probably forgot. A/N: This is also lowkey a love letter for @forcheol bc she fuels my fire for this cutie boy. breathe with me hani it's all gonna be ok

“I have a surprise for you!” Seungcheol practically sings as he crosses the threshold into your apartment. 

“Are you finally going to let me sell your extra kidney on the black market?” you ask, your gaze laser-focused on the fabric in front of you as you make slow, painstaking cuts. “Because if not, I’m not interested.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Firstly, we’ve been over this. I don’t have an extra kidney. I have the two I was born with.”

“But you only need one,” you remind him. “So the other one is superfluous.”

He shakes his head. “Secondly, it’s not that, but I’m pretty sure you’ll like this almost as much.”

“Will it make me a lot of money?” you say with a final snip through the thick velvet.

“Is that all you care about?” he asks you as you look up at him. He’s half-smiling with an eyebrow raised, and you can tell he’s fighting back a bigger grin. 

“Duh,” you say. “No, but seriously. What’s the surprise?”

“I’m moving!” he announces excitedly. 

Your jaw drops, along with your heart. “Wait, like…away?” you ask him.

“No, silly,” he reassures. “It’s a ten-minute walk in your direction from my old place.”

“So you’re moving…closer to me?” you ask, doing the mental math.

“Only about five minutes’ walk from here,” he says proudly. “And you know what’s the best part?”

His eyes are a little too eager. “Are you about to ask me to do something?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

His smile falters a little bit, and you roll your eyes. “I knew it! What do you want from me?”

“Well, it’s something you’d like…something you’re good at…” he says sheepishly.

“So why are you hesitating?”

“I need you to feng shui the place,” Seungcheol blurts. “Um… decorate. So that it doesn’t turn into a mojo dojo casa house.”

“That’s it? I’d love to do that. I don’t know why you were so scared to ask.”

He smiles grimly. “Well, you’ll understand when we get there.”

******

“Hey, uh….you in there?” Seungcheol asks you, his worried eyes taking in your dropped jaw and the way your feet are absolutely cemented to the sidewalk. 

“You bought this house?” you manage to choke out, finally tearing your eyes away from the structure to look at Seungcheol.

You knew this place – of course you did. How many times had you passed by to admire it, secretly daydreaming about planting camellia bushes by the front door and adding a swing to its old wraparound porch? How many unspoken wishes had you made at its front gate as you’d stared into its old boarded-up windows?

But this house – the one you’d fallen in love with despite its ugliness – was no longer boarded up. You’d wondered when it had been fixed up, supposing that in your business with work, you hadn’t had the time to take walks around the neighborhood. But now the porch is clean, the weeds have been pulled, new grass has been put down in the front yard, and the entire face of the house has been re-painted. It looks like a new home, with its pretty white brick and freshly-shingled brown roof, perfect for a new owner.

“When?” you ask. “When did you do this?”

“Oh, months ago,” Seungcheol admits meekly.

“And you waited to tell me – why?” you ask him, in a too-loud voice that makes a lady passing by stare at you in alarm as she hurries her small dog along.

“I’m sorry, I just…I kind of wanted it to be a surprise?” You give him your best “be serious” look, and he caves. “Okay, well, the truth is that I was toying with buying it for literally years, and the price dropped about six months ago.”

You realize what he’s getting at. “Oh,” you say softly. “About the time I got promoted.”

“And you were so busy,” Seungcheol says in a pleading tone. “I barely saw you regardless. And I knew you’d feel guilty if you knew I was fixing up the place and it was so close by and you couldn’t help. I was trying to prevent you from adding one more thing to your plate.”

You bite your lip. “Well, I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I guess I understand.” And if you’re being honest with yourself, you also know he’s right. You would’ve felt guilty. You feel guilty now, looking at the house that Seungcheol built without you, knowing you took no part in the remaking of this place that was so dear to you. Well, I suppose I’ll have to change that, you think to yourself.

“Do you want to see the inside?” Seungcheol suggests, seeming to guess the bittersweetness you’re feeling.

“Yes,” you say, following him up the walkway into the home.

It’s beautiful inside – but it’s empty. You try to distract yourself from your mixed emotions by putting your designer hat on. “So what do you want it to look like?” you ask Seungcheol, who is still watching you like he’s scared you’ll start yelling at him.

“I want it to look like I live here,” he answers simply. “You know me really well, so I kind of figured I’d trust you to do your thing.”

“I’m not an interior decorator,” you remind him. “But I’ll do my best. What’s your budget?”

At this, Seungcheol blushes. “Don’t worry about it.”

You level a sharp gaze at him. “Just how rich are you?”

“Do I have to answer that?” he begs.

“Yes,” you snap.

“Why are you mad?” he asks you.

“Because you kept such a massively huge secret from me – and now it seems like there’s another thing or two I still have to find out about you.” You sigh. “You’re my best friend, Seungcheol. You know everything there is to know about me. I thought it was the same for you.”

You know before Seungcheol even says anything that you crossed some invisible line -- his eyes flash with a fire you've seen in him when discussing your exes, but only rarely does he look at you like this. “Oh yeah?” he says quietly, but there’s a hard edge to his voice. “When was I supposed to bring it up to you, huh? When you were averaging 3 hours of sleep a night trying to learn your new role? When you were sick for three weeks after your first big project because you’d worked yourself to the bone, and I had to come check on you every day to make sure you hadn’t died in your sleep? When would it have been a good time to tell you?” He pauses at the sight of your face, at the hurt and shock there, and takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just … I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to break the news.”

“I never asked,” you whisper. “It’s not all your fault. I – I never ask you what’s going on in your life. I’m a really selfish friend.” You bite your tongue to keep the tears that you can feel burning in your eyes from overflowing. It hurts to realize how much you rely on him, and how little he feels like he can do the same.

“No,” Seungcheol denies, his voice distressed. “No, listen. It’s not like that, either. It is the same for me. I always want to tell you when something happens in my life, but I just worry about complicating things for you. I know you always have a lot going on. There’s more moving parts to your life than there is to mine.” He takes a step closer to you. “And we’re not friends because you ask me about my day. We’re friends because we like being around each other.”

You can quite literally feel yourself dancing around what you wish you could say to Choi Seungcheol. Your heart is in your throat, and you have to take a deep breath before mustering up a smile — though it feels completely false. “You’re right,” you breathe. “But I still want to know. It might be a lot to handle but you have to give me the choice, Seungcheol.” 

And you don’t say it — you can’t— but you think: it’s worth it if it’s you. And you can’t help but let one tear spill over.

Seungcheol makes a move toward you, but you hold your hand out to stop him. “I’m fine,” you reassure him, brushing the tear away and clearing your throat. “I just feel bad that I haven’t been as solid for you as you have for me.”

“I’m worried you’re now feeling like I regret taking care of you,” Seungcheol warns, his hands outstretched as though to pull you in. “I don’t mean to complain.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “I don’t feel like you’re complaining.”

“You know that’s how it goes, though, right?” he presses, seemingly unable to move on until he’s sure you understand. “Sometimes we’re both solid, sometimes I carry you, sometimes you carry me, sometimes we have to carry each other. That’s just life.”

You purse your lips at him. “Sounds like someone got an A in therapy.”

“At least I go to therapy.” 

“Touché,” you reply drily, once again turning your gaze to the large entryway. “Well, I’ll need a tour if I’m gonna help you decorate this place.”

“Come with me,” Seungcheol offers, tilting his head at the arched doorframe leading to a wide open room. 

“This is gonna be the kitchen,” Seungcheol informs you. “But I have no appliances or anything yet. But I want it to be a good entertaining space.”

“You’re planning on having people over?” you ask, trying to hide how shocked and delighted you are. One of the reasons you know you’re close with Seungcheol is that you’re one of the few friends he invites over.

“Of course, now that I’ve got the space,” he replies, a little miffed. “I didn’t have people over before because my apartment was small.” He gestures to the middle of the room. “I want a big table here. One where everyone can fit.”

The way he says it — so earnest, so sincere. A place for everyone. Everyone fits. You smile. “I love that.”

Seungcheol beams, and your knees go wobbly before you can prevent it. 

***

The tour was, overall, a success. Regardless of your initial surprise, the thought that Seungcheol was going to own the home you’d loved for so long felt right. You were buzzing with ideas — some less comfortable than others. For some reason, the idea of designing Seungcheol’s master bedroom raised the hair on your neck.

You’re just about to leave when you notice a door in the entryway that you didn’t explore. “Where does that go?” you ask, approaching it to open it, but Seungcheol steps in front of it smoothly, cutting you off.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile, staring you down with unshakable confidence.

“Well, now I’m worried about it. What are you hiding?” you say, trying to skirt around Seungcheol. He very easily wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you around so that he’s between you and the door again, and though the sudden contact is alarming, you glare at him over your shoulder. 

“Did you kill someone and hide the body in there?” you ask.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “No. That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Is there some weird culty crap in there, then? Are you planning on running a compound?”

“I actually don’t think I have the charisma necessary to be a cult leader,” he reasons. “I hate that you’ve thought that much about it,” you grumble, “but I kind of agree.”

“Hey!” he says, indignant. “You’re not supposed to bring up my lack of rizz.”

“You don’t have cult leader rizz, Seungcheol. That’s a compliment.” You shake your head. “This is a stupid conversation, and you still haven’t told me what’s in there!”

“That’s true,” he agrees, smiling sunnily down at you.

“I thought we said no more secrets,” you say, meeting his gaze.

“It’s not a secret. It’s a surprise,” he rationalizes, and you roll your eyes.

“So I’ll see it eventually?”

“Most definitely you will,” he assures. “Also, why were your first two guesses murder and cults? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I hyperfixated on a true crime podcast last week,” you explain.

“Ah. Well, why don’t you hyperfixate on happier things? How busy are you today? Can we start shopping?”

He sounds so eager that you can’t bring yourself to shut him down, but the mysterious door stays in your head all the way up until your first post-breakup date with Jinho.

It is a bit of a rocky start. Jinho is an hour and a half late picking you up — but at least he texted beforehand, a definite improvement for how it’d been when you’d dated. “I’m so sorry,” he says, breathlessly, as he sweeps you into the cab. “I had a lot to do and it kind of got away from me.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, tugging uncomfortably at the itchy black dress with its constricting high neck that had been hiding in the back of your closet since Jinho got it for you. He’d once complained that you never wore it, and you figured it would comfort him to see you making an effort to connect again, too.

The cab ride is pleasant enough, with Jinho talking about his work and his day. “How was your day?” he asks. 

“Well, actually,” you tell him, “my friend Seungcheol bought that old house I’ve loved forever.”

“The one five minutes from your apartment?” Jinho asks. He’d been familiar with the place. “The one that was kind of a dump?”

“It had character,” you say, a little affronted. “And yes, that one. He renovated it and asked me to help him decorate.”

“Does he need art?” Jinho asks interestedly.

You consider for a minute. For some reason, the idea of Seungcheol meeting Jinho feels like crossing a line. “He might,” you allow. “I’ll ask him.”

“I’ll get him a friends’ discount,” Jinho says eagerly. “I actually need more clients these days.”

You nod, grinning at his enthusiasm and pulling out your phone to text Seungcheol and ask if he needs art. After you’re finished sending the text, you pull at your collar again, noticing that you’re sweating a little in the hot air from the car heaters, exacerbating the itch.

Jinho takes your hand in his. “I’m nervous too,” he says quietly.

And even though he misinterpreted your discomfort for nerves, it’s a little endearing to hear him admit that you’re affecting him. So you don’t withdraw your hand.

***

Seungcheol was at work with you the next day. You’d been too busy with the release of the line, so you hadn’t been able to be there for the promotional photos he’d taken for the company website. But a fashion magazine had wanted to use your brand for an upcoming editorial, and Minghao thought it would be good to have a familiar face in the room for Seungcheol, who the magazine had specifically requested to work with.

His first look was a ribbed black turtleneck with white trim beneath a distressed leather jacket. He looked amazing -- of course he did -- but you were expecting him to. What you were not expecting was how attractive Seungcheol became as he effortlessly shifted from your sweet and generous and warm best friend into a haughty, confident, smirking model. One second, Seungcheol was enthusing about how soft the turtleneck was, and the next, he was smoldering like a forgotten fire into the camera.

The photographer was obsessed with him. It was almost bothersome how often she approached him just to tweak his pose in the most insignificant way possible. You were almost positive it was just so she could let her hands flutter over the fine structure of his face and the perfect planes of his shape. It annoyed you even more that Seungcheol didn’t even seem to notice. He (infuriatingly) shot her a grateful smile after every correction.

You try to keep it out of your voice as you greet him at the end of the shoot. “You did amazing,” you say, because it’s the only thing you can trust to sound genuine about the experience. 

“Thanks,” Seungcheol says easily. He’d finished the shoot in a stunning black denim set beaded with white crystal flames up the arms. Anyone else in this outfit might look a little crazy, but not him. He made it look like something anyone could wear. “These clothes are really comfy!” Seungcheol says, interrupting your errant thoughts (about him).

“That’s the idea,” you say with a smile. “Are you all tired out?”

“Why? Did you want to do something?”

You make a guilty face at his cheerful tone. “Meet with Jinho about the art?”

To his credit, Seungcheol only lets his smile slip a fraction before he agrees. You don’t need to ask him why he might not particularly want to meet with Jinho — as far as Seungcheol is concerned, the jury is still out in regards to your prodigal ex come home. He’d responded to the message you’d sent asking if Jinho could help him with a clipped “sure”, which honestly was enough to let you know that the three of you collaborating on this project was going to be weird at best and wildly uncomfortable at worst.

But still, Seungcheol travels to your apartment with you to await Jinho — even standing up as he arrives and greets you with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Hey,” he says breathlessly. “Did you wait long?”

“Not at all,” you say reassuringly, looking between them. You don’t know why, but it almost makes you laugh to watch them size each other up. Jinho’s eyes widen just slightly as they take in Seungcheol’s impressive build, and he can’t suppress a swallow as Seungcheol looks him over with an appraising sort of gaze. Although a couple inches shorter than Jinho, Seungcheol’s presence is far more impactful. 

You can almost hear the tension siphon out of the room as Seungcheol finally breaks a smile. “Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Seungcheol.”

“I’m Jinho,” he replies, taking the offered hand and wincing a little as Seungcheol squeezes. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?” Seungcheol says, shooting you a look.

“Well, I heard you renovated that house,” Jinho says hurriedly, finally taking a seat at the table. 

“I did,” Seungcheol says, easing himself into a chair. “And it’s looking pretty bare at the moment.”

“Well, I hope I can help with that,” Jinho says fervently. 

“She tells me you’re quite good at your job,” Seungcheol says, gesturing at you.

Jinho’s eyes sparkle as he looks at you, and your heart turns over in your chest. “Very kind of you,” he says.

You shrug. “Just true.” Never mind that you sometimes wished Jinho was worse at his job so he had more time for you. You try not to let the bitterness of that thought make a show on your face.

Seungcheol is watching both of you carefully when Jinho turns his attention to him. “What’s the budget we’re working with?” Jinho asks.

Seungcheol shrugs. “I’m pretty flexible.”

Jinho’s eyes go wide. “What, exactly, do you do for work?”

“I’m a sports statistician,” Seungcheol replies with a wry smile, “but I inherited a lot of money from my grandfather and spent the last ten years building a pretty significant real estate portfolio.”

Jinho nods in understanding while you gape at your friend. “You never told me that!” you say. 

“Maybe I didn’t want you to like me for the money,” Seungcheol teases, smiling at your flabbergasted face.

“Mostly commercial real estate?” asks Jinho. 

“Mostly business parks,” Seungcheol confirms. “I own a hotel downtown too.”

“Is the house your first residential acquisition?”

“The first I plan on living in myself,” Seungcheol clarifies.

Jinho nods. “Well, we can go one of three routes. You can use the art as another type of investment, or you can use it as just decor, or both.”

“I’m leaning toward decor,” Seungcheol says, “but investments would be cool, too.” He pulls out his phone. “I like calm pieces like this,” he explains, pointing at a few reference paintings — boats at a dock at sunrise, a still-life of dandelions on the shore of a pond, a cozy-looking city street in autumn. “Nothing too modern or sterile.”

Jinho nods again. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll see what I can do.”

It takes another half hour of finagling to get Jinho out of the apartment so you can whirl on Seungcheol. “Commercial real estate?” you say in a tiny voice. 

“Yeah,” he says, and you can hear the tension from the argument yesterday in his voice.

“I’m not mad,” you say quickly.

“I know,” he says back. You stare at each other for a long time. 

“Have I ever stayed in the hotel you own?” you finally ask to break the stony silence.

“Have you ever stayed in the Grandeur?” he fires back.

“You own the Grandeur?” you gasp, jaw dropping automatically. 

“Yeah,” he says again. “We had my birthday there once and I liked it so much I thought…” He trails off and blushes. 

“You thought what?”

And sheepishly, he looks down at the floor and replies in a quiet voice, “I thought it’d be a good birthday present.”

He actually laughs at the look on your face when he notices you. “This was all before I knew you,” he admits.

You sit down at the table with him again. “Okay, so, for the past few years we’ve been friends, you’ve been the richest person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met some very wealthy people. Like, when I bumped into you in the elevator, you were already a very wealthy man.”

“Yes,” he confirms. “This is why I think it’s silly to go Dutch when we go out to eat.”

“But you never said anything—“

“Because then I’d sound like a terrible person. ‘No, it’s fine, I’ll get this, I’m actually way richer than you.’”

“I might not have taken it that way,” you say doubtfully.

“Does it really change that much to know that I’m rich?” he asks. “I’m the same guy from before. Same personality and everything.”

“I know. It’s just weird to have to do the mental shift.”

“You don’t have to shift anything,” Seungcheol insists. “Everything is the same as it was before. You just have more information about me.”

“Why is this so weird for me?” you groan, slumping in your seat. “Intellectually, I get that you’re the same dude. But it just seems like you have this whole side of your life that you kept from me.”

“Maybe I was worried you’d react poorly,” Seungcheol says with a raised eyebrow.

You have to laugh at that. “You could be hanging out with celebrities. You could be dating models. But you hang out with me.”

He grins. “Well, you’re a lot more fun than most rich people.”

“Really?” you ask, rubbing at your forehead tiredly. “I guess being a disaster is entertaining, if nothing else.”

“You aren’t a disaster,” Seungcheol says with a warning tone. “And, for the third time, nothing is really different.”

“One thing’s for sure, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m never paying for another meal again,” you say, finally managing a real smile.

Seungcheol nods in approval. “That was how I hoped you’d react.”

“Just immediately start taking advantage of you?” you ask with a laugh.

“Well, yeah, pretty much,” Seungcheol says, and finally all the discomfort you’d been feeling dissolves into thin air as the two of you laugh together again. 

***

“So…you spend a lot of time with Seungcheol,” Jinho says at dinner next weekend. 

“Well, yeah,” you say. “He’s my best friend.”

Jinho nods thoughtfully, but he doesn’t look happy. “Do you think Seungcheol has ever had feelings for you?” he finally asks.

“I’m pretty certain he’s never felt anything past platonic for me,” you say, staring into your glass of water. “Why?”

Jinho gives you a long, hard look before answering. “You seem very close.”

“Like siblings?” you offer up half-heartedly. “There’s nothing going on between us, I promise. If there was, I wouldn’t have agreed to start seeing you again.”

Jinho nods. “I believe you. He just — he’s kind of intense, isn’t he?”

You contemplate. “I think he can be,” you finally respond. “Seungcheol is like … I don’t know. Maybe a fire is the best analogy. Capable of being comforting and quite destructive.”

“If he’s the flame, what does that make me?” Jinho asks you. He slips his hand into yours. 

You give him a little half-smile. “If he’s fire, you’re water.”

“Water usually beats fire,” Jinho says, sounding a bit comforted.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s not a competition.”

Because it isn’t. Seungcheol’s fire, as far as you could tell, burned deeper within him than the Marianna Trench, a terrifyingly powerful passion held in check by a man with enough kindness to keep it bubbling under the surface instead of spilling out onto everything around him. Jinho was more akin to swimming in the shallows. It was a comforting thing to be able to see his limits.

This is the first night that you kiss Jinho, post-breakup. The kiss is sugar-sweet, brief, and nervous — like you’re high school kids again. Your heart speeds up a little as your lips just brush.

And there is no fire to it at all.

***

You wake up the next day with a heaviness that seems to have burrowed its way into the marrow of your bones. It’s more emotional than physical, but the telltale ache of your body is enough to have you calling Minghao mid-morning. “I can’t come in,” you tell him. “I'm coming down with something.”

“Rest up,” he tells you, and you’re very grateful for him and how understanding he is as you end the call. 

Your first thought would normally be to call Seungcheol, but you dial Jinho’s number instead. When he doesn’t answer — probably still asleep, you reason — you slump on your bed, exhausted and unable to do much else besides stare at the ceiling of your bedroom.

This kind of sickness is awful. It’s even more awful when you’re facing it alone — when there’s no one there that can warm up the cold inside you. You can’t even muster up energy to leave your bed. The thought of cooking something is laughable. The emptiness and silence of it all is paralyzing. You’re lucky — for you, this inconvenient reality of your mental illness is rare — but when it hits, it’s difficult to remember what the point is of anything. 

Time crawls by like an inchworm across a vast, bare desert. If you had been able to feel anything at all, you know you’d be feeling acutely miserable. And still you lay there, uncomfortably warm in the light of day, still tangled in your blankets but unable to move them.

It’s a mystery to you how long you lay like this before a buzzing splits the silence. With tremendous effort, you grab your phone and look at the caller ID, expecting to see Jinho returning your call. But it’s Seungcheol.

“Hi,” he says once you’ve managed to answer it. “I haven’t heard from you today. You okay?”

“Hi,” you say in a flat, robotic tone, devoid of normal expression.

And in one word, Seungcheol knows. 

“I’m coming over,” he says, and hangs up.

A little drop of emotion seems to spill from your otherwise empty cup — anxiety. Seungcheol knows that you have days where life is harder than others. He’s also never seen you this incapacitated by one of them. A little knot of panic starts to grow in your chest, amplified by the seemingly hours-long minutes it takes Seungcheol to get to you. But when you finally hear him at the door, he lets himself in. 

He quietly makes his way back into your bedroom and sits at your bedside. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You try to get your mouth to move — no dice. Instead, you just slightly turn your body to face him, trying your hardest to focus your gaze on him so he knows you heard him.

And Seungcheol leans down and scoops you up out of your blankets, lifting you easily from the bed and onto the couch. He doesn’t let you go, though, just keeps ahold of you. He holds you in a hug until the feeling starts to come back into your limbs and you’re able to reach your arms around him and cling on tight. And then he keeps you in his arms for several more minutes for good measure. You barely notice his sigh of relief and the way he relaxes into your grasp when you finally wrap your arms around him.

When he pulls away, you cringe. But he just pushes your hair off your face and looks you over, and the warmth of his hands on you soothes whatever raw part of yourself began to ache when he stopped holding you.

And he doesn’t ask you what happened, or try to make you explain anything. He just asks you if you’ve eaten. 

“No,” you rasp. It’s the first word you’ve spoken since the phone call. And so Seungcheol makes you eggs. He watches like a hawk as you mechanically bring the fork to your mouth until the eggs are gone. And then he sits beside you, quietly reading, until the sun goes down and Jinho arrives.

By that time, you still feel lethargic and nowhere near normal, but you can stomach a conversation. Jinho puts his arms around you and holds you tight as Seungcheol slips out the door, and you nestle in close, trying to feel the same warmth you felt when it was your best friend holding you. “Bad day?” Jinho asks softly, pressing a kiss into your hair. And you laugh — because he’s not wrong. But how can you explain this?

Luckily he doesn’t ask you to. The two of you put on a comforting cartoon and cuddle on the couch all night. Jinho is asleep, holding you, before you can put together how he even knew something was wrong. And when you do put it together, it hits you like a gut punch. Because there’s no one else who knew. 

Seungcheol has saved you once again. 

***

Two months later

“You better not drop that,” Seungcheol warns Mingyu, who shoots you a longsuffering look as he carries in a sleek overhead lamp to go in Seungcheol’s office.

“Go easy on him! He managed the glassware really well!” you scold, hitting Seungcheol lightly on the sleeve. “And shouldn’t you be carrying something?”

“He said he’s supervising,” Wonwoo says owlishly, right on Mingyu’s tail with a small box of paperweights. 

Seungcheol throws up his arms at the look you level at him. “I helped move all the heavy stuff,” he calls after Wonwoo, who’s disappearing up the stairs.

“So did Mingyu, but you don’t see him sitting around watching,” you tease with a smile. 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and heads for the door, stepping around Jinho, who’s bringing in the last of the paintings for the gallery wall in the library. “Need help?” you ask as he comes to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“No, that’s okay,” he says. “You should help Vernon, though. I’ve heard he’s struggling with the jerseys.”

So you head into the east wing of the house, which Seungcheol has converted into an entertainment center. There are working arcade games, a pool table, a foosball table, and a projector complete with a huge drop-down screen for movies. Seungcheol, ever the sports fanatic, has acquired three priceless signed jerseys: a Pedro Martinez-signed Mets jersey, a Michael Jordan-signed Bulls jersey, and a Steve Young-signed 49ers jersey. Vernon is positioned underneath the wall where the Jordan and Martinez jerseys are already hung, staring pensively.

“You needed help?”

“They’re too far apart,” Vernon says. “There’s no room for the last one.”

“How long did it take you to do this?” you ask tiredly.

“Like two hours,” he replies with a sigh. 

So the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon taking down the jerseys and repositioning them. By the time you’re done, the rest of the house is practically finished. It’s amazing to see how much livelier it feels now that it’s not all empty white walls. 

“We have less than two hours until the housewarming party,” you remind Seungcheol, who’s sitting on the entryway steps looking exhausted. “Don’t you need to change?”

“Have you picked out my outfit yet?” he asks as Jinho comes up behind you and slides a hand around your waist. 

“I am nothing if not capable of meeting deadlines,” you remind him, squeezing Jinho’s hand and then beckoning Seungcheol up to his bedroom. Deftly, you lay his outfit out on his bed for him: a pair of light brown chinos, some black loafers, and a gift bag.

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s this?” he complains, but you can see a bit of his dimple and know he’s trying to hide a smile.

“Your housewarming present from me,” you tell him. “Now open it.”

He does — and reveals a soft black collared shirt. “This is nice,” he says, rubbing the material with his fingers. 

“I made it,” you say. 

“You did?” he asks, looking at you so quickly you think you hear his neck pop.

“By hand. With love,” you say, and open your arms to him.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in, wrapping you up in a squeeze. “It’s perfect,” he says into your hair. “Thanks.”

“And,” you say, pulling back before his closeness gives you goosebumps, “a finishing touch.” You hand him a small box. “From Jinho.”

Surprised, Seungcheol opens the box. Inside is a slim black watch. “Wow. I should go tell him thank you,” Seungcheol says.

“Yes, you should,” you agree. “And then you should shower.” You crinkle your nose, and Seungcheol scoffs before running downstairs to say thank you to Jinho for the help and the watch.

You don’t have a lot of time to get ready for the housewarming party, so you end up showering quickly and throwing your hair into a messy bun before putting on your nice clothes and running downstairs to the cab Jinho brought to pick you up. Together, you make the short drive to the house, where you can already see a small crowd of people standing in that beautiful entryway. 

You grasp Jinho’s hand as the two of you walk in, greeting the friends you know and looking at the house with the renewed attention of people who aren’t trying to decorate it. It’s beautiful and cozy, with a natural, elevated style that suits the owner perfectly. Seungcheol’s house is full of earthy colors and calming textures, and you couldn’t be more proud. 

As is so often the case in a crowd, you find yourself looking for the man of the hour — and your heart sinks as your eyes follow the errant sound of his laughter in the high-ceiling room. Seungcheol is standing with a beautiful woman, laughing heartily at something she said. 

You knew he’d stopped seeing that pretty, knowledgeable sports reporter about two weeks after it started, but you hadn’t heard anything else about his love life since. You had a sense that Seungcheol tried to keep you separate from his romantic relationships, and so you didn’t want to pry. But surely he’d have said something to you if he really was seeing someone.

Someone calls your name, bringing you back to earth. “Minghao?” you say in disbelief.

“Hi,” Minghao says with a wave. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Seungcheol invited me,” he says simply. 

“Wow, that’s cool,” you say, still confused at the sight of your boss just hanging out with all your friends. “Minghao, this is Jinho. Jinho, meet Minghao — he’s my boss.”

They shake hands while you try to figure out why you didn’t introduce Jinho as your boyfriend. Minghao asks you if you’re excited for your award ceremony tomorrow night — turns out, one of your shoots won some kind of award.

“Kind of,” you reply. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Jinho says gently. “You deserve the award.”

You give his hand a squeeze, and then Seungcheol steps away from the woman (after giving her shoulder a squeeze, which makes you grit your teeth), and stands on one of the steps of the staircase to address the group. 

“Thank you all for your help and for coming to this housewarming party. I wouldn’t have been able to make this move without lots of help, so I’m super grateful.” He looks right at you then, and you see that carefully caged fire beneath his brown eyes. You feel the rest of the world melt away as he continues. “I want this to be a place where you feel welcome. I want you to feel as comfortable here as you do in your own home. Please let this be the beginning of a tradition where you know you can show up on my porch at any time and there will be a warm greeting for you.”

Your heart is in your throat. The eye contact between you two seems to connect your souls, searing into you like a hot branding iron, marking you forever. 

And then it passes, and you take a deep shuddering breath. Jinho looks at you in alarm. And Seungcheol finishes, “there are drinks and snacks — stay as long as you like.”

As everyone else mulls around the house, eating and drinking and laughing together, Seungcheol comes up to you and Jinho. "Thank you for your help," he says to Jinho, and his smile is genuine and kind. "I really couldn't have managed without you. The art is fantastic."

"Anytime," Jinho says, blushing. You grin at the sight of his shyness.

"I wanted to show you something," Seungcheol says, taking Jinho by the arm. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," you say, waving them off. The two men disappear into the crowd, and you walk toward Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Vernon, who are all standing at the edge of the room laughing with each other. "Hey," you say, and Mingyu sweeps you into his side in a quick hug.

"Hi," they chorus together. "You cleaned up nice," Wonwoo says, pointing at your dress.

"Thanks!" you say, a little surprised. Wonwoo usually wasn't the most vocal in his appreciation, and the compliment melted you just a little.

"Seungcheol told him to say that," Vernon says, with the air of a toddler tattling on his brother.

Your heart warms at the thought. "Of course he did," you say. "He's entirely too good to me."

"Where is Jinho?" asks Mingyu.

"Seungcheol dragged him off somewhere," you say. "I don't know."

The three of you discuss the usual gossip -- the other boys' love lives -- all the way up until Seungcheol and Jinho find you again. Jinho looks a little rattled, but pulls it together when he sees you.

"Where did he take you?" you ask him.

"I'll tell you later." It came out in such a flat little voice that you know something is wrong, but you don't feel like you can ask him about it, so you just stay quiet.

And you feel such sweeping emptiness that you find yourself dissociating from the party. Seungcheol introduces you to his friends you didn’t know already, and even in your disconnected state you register the pretty woman’s name — Nikita. She is so nice to you, telling you how much she loves the decor in “Cheol’s” house. 

It’s enough to send you home with a headache an hour and a half later.

***

It’s 8:45pm. Jinho left your award ceremony to go to the bathroom, and he still hasn’t come back. 

Things have been weird since last night. You’re starting to get the feeling that Jinho notices how you’re affected by Seungcheol and isn’t happy about it. It makes you feel rubbed raw, like your whole body has carpet burn. 

But now, you’re starting to panic. Jinho was the one who drove you downtown to this swanky party your company threw for you, and now you’re 45 minutes from home with just your phone — no wallet to pay for a cab if Jinho really did run off. 

Your phone rings — it’s Jinho. 

“Where are you?” you ask in a panic, your voice cracking with stress.

“I left,” Jinho says calmly. “I’m sorry. But I think there are some things you’ve been lying to me about. So for your own sake, and for my sanity, we can’t do this anymore.”

“Lying?” you say, choking around the word. “What do you mean?”

“Call Seungcheol. I bet he can explain it to you,” Jinho says harshly. And he hangs up.

The only reason why you don’t call Seungcheol immediately upon hearing the line go dead is because you’re in shock. You’d thought that the very real, very intensely powerful feelings you felt for Seungcheol wouldn’t get in the way of developing a new relationship — possibly hoping that any new feelings would push out the old ones.

But those old feelings had grown roots. And now they sat there, planted in your chest, too entangled with the person you are to be plucked out, and you’d been refusing to look at them, but now it was time. Jinho was right — you’d lied to him when you’d said there was nothing there. You’d lied to yourself for months, maybe years. The only person it seemed that you hadn’t lied to about it was Seungcheol himself, and that was simply because he’d never asked. If he’d asked, you would’ve lied to him too — lied until you were blue in the face, lied until you both believed it, because the truth would surely kill whatever good thing existed between the two of you.

The truth being, of course, that you are in love with Choi Seungcheol.

You’ve fought it so long it almost relieves you to say it, if only just to yourself. You’re in love with him, and you know now that no matter how much anyone else tries, you’re going to end up right back here, wanting him.

Your hands shake as you call him. 

He answers on the second ring.

“Jinho left me at the party,” you say hazily. “I’m 45 minutes away and I don’t have my wallet. I’m — I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seungcheol says. You can hear him moving around, probably looking for his coat and his keys, and then he says, “are you okay? Where are you right now?”

You look around. Unbeknownst to you, your feet carried you out of the event space and into the lobby area, where you’re alone. “I’m okay. I’m by myself. I'm still inside the venue.”

“Stay right there, and don’t move. I’m coming.”

You expect the time to crawl by as you wait for Seungcheol, a pit of dread building in your stomach, but before you know it, he’s walking in and scooping you into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and you don’t have the strength to resist melting into him. Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper back. “I did this to myself.”

“There’s no good excuse for him to leave you here,” Seungcheol says sharply. 

He takes you out to his car. The drive home is almost silent, as you let tears fall into your lap, staining your pink dress. When you finally get to your apartment, Seungcheol helps you inside before he turns to you, jaw clenched. “I ought to kill him,” he says in a low, dangerous voice.

“You don’t know —“ you start, but Seungcheol pulls away.

“No, I’m not going to hear this,” he says shortly. “All of our whole friendship, you’ve always accepted this kind of thing as inevitable. I have to know. Why do you do it?”

Seungcheol is angrier than you’ve ever seen him — brown eyes blazing, cheeks red and face heated. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand,” you ask in a flat little voice. 

“I haven’t ever seen you be treated well in a relationship. And that’s not your fault, but I guess I don’t know why you stick around when time after time they make you miserable.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I watch them hurt you, over and over again. Why do you just take it? Why don’t you fight for yourself?”

“I — because of love?” you squeak. “Love means — love means you stay.”

And your heart breaks. Because every time someone else walked away from you, it reinforced the idea that you were uncared for. Because no matter how well the relationship started, it always ends up hurting you more than anyone. And because the only man who’s never hurt you is the one in front of you right now, and even if he did love you, you don’t trust that you could believe it. 

He takes your face in his hands. “It’s not love. Love isn’t the thing that breaks your heart. At least, not when it’s healthy.” He brushes a tear off your face with his thumb. “Someone who truly loves you wouldn’t leave you behind like that.”

Maybe his fire lights some of yours too — because now, you’re angry. Angry enough to push his hands from your face, to turn away from those eyes that are so beseeching and so understanding and so right. “Are you the expert?” you ask him quietly, but your hands are shaking and your voice is lethal. “What do you really know about love?”

His jaw flexes — his eyes flash — he crosses his arms over his chest. “Everything I know about love,” he says with a barely contained voice, “I have learned from you.”

You have no words for this. So you stand, breathless, watching Seungcheol. Waiting.

He sighs. And then comes undone. The tears start to flow down his cheeks. But when you move toward him, he steps away. “I’ve loved you for so long it’s hard to imagine a time when I didn’t. When I try to find someone else, I end up falling in love with pieces of them that remind me of you. It’s unfair to them. I haven’t tried in awhile.”

He brushes his tears, then looks you in the eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll let you…I’ll give you some space.”

And with that, he leaves you alone in your apartment, wondering how small a human is capable of feeling.

***

The next few days are torturously slow. You’re icy cold and can’t seem to get warm no matter what you do. Seungcheol doesn’t reach out — and you know it’s because he’s trying to give you space — but you sort of hate not hearing from him, not knowing what’s going on. By day three, you’ve had enough. You call him.

And the look he gives you when he shows up on your doorstep a few minutes later is almost enough to make you abandon what you know you have to say. What all that time by yourself has taught you. What you've spent all your nights crying yourself to sleep over.

But still — Seungcheol holds you. He wraps you up in his arms, his broad hand stroking the back of your head, and you can feel his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He freezes. Pulls back, confused. “I love you,” you repeat, louder now.

“You do?” he asks. And he’s bewildered, but he also seems to sag in relief.

“Yes,” you say. “I don’t remember when it started. It doesn’t matter. All I know is I love you.”

And when he smiles at you, for the first time in days, you don’t feel that spine-tingling cold. 

You take a deep breath.

“But I don’t think I’m in a good place for a relationship right now,” you say.

Seungcheol swallows. Hard.

“I know you don’t need to be perfect to be in a relationship,” you say. “And I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you. I’ve just learned that I don’t know how to open myself up to love. Real love. And … and if it’s you, I can’t risk it.” You take his face in your hands. “I want to be healthy. I don't want to ... depend on you so much that I lose myself, like I do with other people. I wouldn’t ask you to wait around until I’m ready,” you murmur. “So I understand if…you can’t, or won’t. But I need to figure out some things first.”

And Seungcheol wraps his arms around you once again. “You are choosing yourself this time,” he says. “And I’m proud of you.”

After a long while of holding each other, Seungcheol says, “Hear me out.”

You look at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I got an offer. To help with the Olympics.”

Your jaw drops. “In France?”

He nods. “For four months.”

You wince as this sinks in. “You want to go, don’t you?”

“I really want to go,” he says. “And maybe…”

“That would give me time.” You don’t have to ask what he’s insinuating — you already know. 

“I’m not giving you a deadline,” he says quickly. “If you’re still not…well, I was thinking we could just — just see where we’re at by then.”

You resist the urge to burst into tears, to throw yourself into his arms and beg him not to leave, and instead try to be logical about it. “A winter alone,” you muse. “Maybe it’ll be good for me.”

Seungcheol looks like he could kiss you. Instead, he squeezes you tightly. “If you need me — I mean, I’ll fly home in a second if you ask.”

And you know that he’s telling the truth, and you know that because of that, you’d never ask that of him. But you still say, “Deal.”

And then you spend the rest of the night sitting quietly, snuggled up with your best friend, determinedly not thinking about the moment you’ll need to let go.

*** 

Seungcheol leaves two days later. 

He stops by before he heads to the airport. “Will you water my plants while I’m away?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you promise.

He gives you one last searching look. “I’m not leaving you,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you say quickly. 

“And you really can ask me to come back whenever you want,” he says.

“I know,” you say, finally cracking a smile. “Go live your dream. I’ll be here when you get back.”

The final hug, a sweeter-than-honey forehead kiss — promising more — and Seungcheol is gone.

You let yourself ache for him for a minute. And then you act. 

You whip out your phone, dial a number. 

“This is Rocky Heights Mental Wellness Clinic. How can I help?” 

You smile at the chipper tone from the receptionist. “Hi,” you reply. “I’d like to set up a therapy appointment.”

[geralts-yenn]

Pranked

Mikey (Hellraiser) x reader (female reader, no race, body type or physical features mentioned)

summary: your babysitter job took some turns that you couldn't have foreseen...

warnings: smut: fingering, oral (f receiving), protected p-i-v sex. Mikey being Mikey...

word count: 4,3k

A/N: Okay, I wrote this today without a pause most of the afternoon and evening and I decided to post it before I get anxious once again over it. So there will be probably errors.

Mike and any other characters mentioned are not mine and we are far away from canon (Mikey is not dead apparently!) but this is fiction and this the way these characters live in my head...

You went through the bulletin board at your college and finally you found something that appeared to be a good deal. With your plans to go on a road trip with your friends, you were looking for a job to earn some extra money. 

Family with four kids is looking for babysitter

Seeking a part-time babysitter for four active children, ages 2, 4, 5 and 6. Help will be needed occasionally on Friday or Saturday nights. Applicant will be required to warm pre-prepared dinner for the children and put them to bed by 7:30. Position is in a smoke-free home with a large dog. 

You called the number given on the notice and a friendly voice answered you. The woman invited you over to get to know you and see if you connect with the kids. Half an hour later you found yourself in a nice rural neighborhood looking at an old but well-kept house with a large garden.

After ringing the doorbell, you could hear a dog barking and the voices of some kids. A minute later, a woman opened the door, a cute little girl on her hip and her hand on the collar of a huge German Shepherd. She blew a streak of hair from her face and smiled at you. “Hi, you must be Y/N.  Please, come in.” She took a step back to let you enter. Three little boys came running into the hallway and looked up to you. “Mum, she is beautiful!” You and the woman both laughed at the cute remark.

“These are Caleb, Travis and Noah.” She put her hand on their little heads one after another. “And this here is little Daisy.” She nodded at the toddler in her arm. The girl smiled at you and waved with her cute little fingers.

The woman led you into the living room, where you talked and played with the kids.

Hearing the noise of a key and the door opening, the boys left you alone with the Lego bricks in your hand. They ran to the door, shouting, “Daddy!” A moment later a huge guy entered the room, two of the boys each in one arm, the third one hanging on his back.

You held your breath for a second, taking in how attractive the man was. He grinned sheepishly at you when his wife introduced you: “This is my husband Benjamin, but everyone just calls him Sy.” You nodded at him and then gave his wife a small smile, she was one lucky lady for sure.

After another 30 minutes talking with you, they agreed to give you the job and asked you to come over for the first time on Friday night. 

It was five o’clock on Friday evening when you were back at the Syverson’s door. Sy opened it for you and led you to the living room where all the kids were running around with their dog Aika. When they saw you, they wrapped their little arms around you and shouted your name. It seemed they already liked you. You dropped to the floor laughing and continued to play with the kids.

Ten minutes later, Sy and his wife came back and your mouth fell open when you saw them both dressed up for their first date in two years. They looked stunning. Sy wore a navy blue button down shirt with his sleeves rolled up and some tight black jeans. His wife chose a jean skirt, a white blouse and tall boots. Smiling, you noticed how both of them couldn’t keep their hands from each other. With a wink, you sent them off, wishing them a fun night.

Though it wasn’t a lie in the job offer that the kids were active, you had a lot of fun with them. You were playing hide and seek and after dinner you put them into their pajamas, built a blanket fort and read your favorite fairy tale to them. When it was bedtime, Daisy was already asleep in your arms and the boys were too tired to argue with you.

After you had them in their beds, you went into the kitchen to do the dishes. Exactly as you were finished and you put the dish towel away, a loud knock on the kitchen window startled you. You turned and saw a figure moving away from the window.

Your heart was racing in your chest and you had to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down. Okay, this was probably just a friend or a neighbor of the Syversons, you scolded yourself. You opened the kitchen door that led to the garden and took a step onto the patio. 

The moment that you found the light switch, a gush of cold water hit you directly in your face. You heard a loud laughter that died at the moment that the porch light went on and your attacker realized he hit someone that he didn’t expect. 

“Shit, sweetcheeks, who are you? … Fuck, I didn’t want to make you wet … Aaargh, where’s uncle Sy?” You blinked through your wet lashes and looked into the cutest face you had ever seen. Two deep blue eyes stared at you under a bunch of chocolate curls, cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. In his hand, he still held the bucket. You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this whole situation was. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N! I’m watching Sy’s kids tonight.” You held out your hand. The guy looked at you shocked for another minute before he started to smirk, realizing that you weren’t angry. And to your surprise, he dropped the bucket and wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. Although you were dripping wet.

When he let go of you, you looked down on yourself and the guy before you. You both were wearing white t-shirts. But while he had just two wet spots where your breasts were pressed flush to his chest, your shirt was totally drenched and therefore completely transparent.

The guy’s eyes followed yours and rested a good moment on your lacy bra that was shining through the wet fabric. When he noticed he was staring, he hastily took off his black leather jacket. “Oh, shit, here, sorry,” he stammered and handed it to you.

You thanked him and put on the jacket. It was cozy and warm and when you inhaled you took in the musky scent that it radiated. 

“I’m Mike, by the way! And I wanted to hit Sy, of course.” You chuckled. “Of course!” you repeated mockingly. Mike shrugged, the corners of his mouth curled to a cute grin. You both sat down on the wooden floorboards of the deck. Fortunately, it was a mild summer night, so the condition of your clothes didn’t bother you much. 

“Sy’s my uncle. And, well, all the guys in our family have this thing going on where we are trying to prank each other,” Mike explained to you. You wondered if all the guys in their family were as attractive as the two members you already met. If they were, you’d pay money to see them throwing buckets full of water at each other.

Your giggles encouraged Mike to go on: “Sy was the last one to land a strike. He put Kool-Aid powder into our shower head. I guess he wanted to go after Walter, my dad. But I was up early, and so it was me who got showered in red cherry water.” Damn, Mike really did his best to give you some filthy thoughts. You wouldn’t have minded taking a lick on his cherry coating.

“I bet you have never been any more tasty,” you teased him and he bumped his shoulder into yours in response. 

“I guess family meetings with you guys are fun. What else did you all do to each other?” Mike leaned back on his arms and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. You watched him and realized that you were totally smitten with him already. 

“Once dad got hold of my cousin Charles’ phone. Charlie is kind of a womanizer, but after Walter switched all the names of the women in his contacts, he had a few weeks when he wasn’t very lucky at getting on dates.” You laughed while taking a mental note to be careful if you ever got to meet Charles.

“Another really good one was when uncle Leon stole the police badge of my dad and replaced it with a fake one, stating ‘most grumpy detective in town’. Which is very funny because it’s true. He only noticed it after four days and damn was he pissed.” Mike chuckled at the memory of his fuming father. 

“But the best one ever was when Charles organized some retro gay porn magazines and exchanged every face in there with a photograph of uncle August.” You both laughed. “It’s so funny, You have to know, August sports some ridiculous mustache which made it quite fitting. I sneaked one of the magazines, I need to show you sometime.”

You couldn’t hold back a grin as you answered him: “I can’t wait to look at some gay porn magazines with you.” But in fact the thought of spending more time with Mike was really pleasant.

Mike and you were talking with each other for another few minutes when you heard a voice over the babyphone in the kitchen “Mom?” You stood up. “Sorry, I need to look after the kids.” While you went up the stairs you mentally kicked yourself in your ass. What if Mike thought this was a signal to leave. You should have told him to wait. Because you really wanted to spend more time with him. 

Little Noah asked for something to drink but sank almost immediately back to sleep after you handed him a bottle of water. When you went back into the kitchen you saw that Mike was sitting at the breakfast bar. You smiled at him. 

“You are still here!” you remarked the obvious. Mike turned to look at you. “Do you want me to go?” You stepped between his legs and shook your head. Mike put his hands on your hips. “Good! But I wouldn’t have left without my jacket anyway.” A flush rose up your neck. “Oh” was the only thing that left your mouth in response. Mike pulled you nearer to him and brushed with his knuckles over your cheek.

The rustle of keys at the front door made you take a step back and Mike dropped his hand. You felt like a teenager that was caught by their parents. Sy entered the kitchen, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he saw Mike. “What the hell are you doin’ here, kid?” he asked.

Mike gave him a short explanation of the events of the night that made Sy frown while at the same time a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. He told you that you could leave now that they were home again and both you and Mike made your ways to the door. 

You were already out of the front yard when Sy opened the door once more and called Mike to come back. Mike turned and ran up the stairs when Sy opened the door further and threw a bucket full of water at his nephew. All of you started to laugh. Mike looked down on himself, shaking his head. “Should have seen that one coming.”

Throwing your backpack over your shoulder you turned to Mikey who was standing behind you. “So,... I need to go that way” You pointed along the road. “You’re walking?” Mike asked with a raised eyebrow. You nodded. “No, no, sweetcheeks. I won’t let you walk alone in the dark. I’ll drive you home, okay?”

Mike didn’t wait for you to answer but took your hand and pulled you along the sidewalk. He unlocked his car and led you to the passenger door. You were surprised when he opened the door for you, you wouldn’t have taken him for a gentleman. 

You let yourself fall into the seat and fumbled with the safety belt that somehow refused to be pulled down. Mike sat into the driver’s seat and shook his head. “Yeah, that stupid belt is not working properly. Wait, let me try.”

And with that he leaned over you, his chest pressed against yours, his face brushing over your neck. Goosebumps traveled up your arms at the  touch of his still wet clothes and curls. He pulled on the strap and finally managed to make it move. “Got it!” he shouted but when he tugged on it he hit you on your thigh. You let out a loud “Ouch!” 

“Fuck, sorry!” Mike rubbed his palm over the spot where he accidentally hit you. “God, sweetcheeks, I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot.” You put your hand on his, stopping his hectical rubs.

“Mike, it’s okay.” You cupped his neck with your other hand and pulled his face to yours. 

Finally your lips crushed against his. Your kiss was gentle, almost careful at the beginning but as you both realized how much you both wanted this to happen it got heated and passionate quickly. You pushed Mike back into his seat and threw your leg over him to straddle him. Mike’s hands found their way under the hem of your still damp shirt.

The feeling of his warm hands on your cold skin made you lose all control and you nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip, breathing soft moans into his mouth. Your fingers combed through his dark curls. Mike’s tongue brushed against your lips and you opened them for him. He tasted like mint and honey.

Eagerly he pressed himself against you, pushing your back against the steering wheel. And, as if the whole evening wasn’t awkward enough, you got onto the horn and a loud honk ran through the quiet neighborhood.

Startled, you both pulled back, panting. In the next moment a light was switched on at Sy’s house and he opened the window. “God, Mikey, fuck off before you wake up the kids! I want to spend some quality time with my wife. Could you guys make out at your own home like normal people?”

Mike chuckled. “Better use some protection, uncle! There are already too many little Syversons running around!” Sy flipped him off with a grin before he shut the window again.

You had taken your place on the passenger seat again, feeling the heat rise in your ears. Mike started the engine and asked you for your address. 

“Uh, actually, I don’t really want to go home already,” you admitted. Surprised, Mike turned his head at you. “Do you want to come home with me?” he asked.

You nibbled on your lip. You weren’t usually someone who went home with a guy on the first date. And, actually Mike and you weren’t even on a date. But, damn, that guy really made you lose all sense of reason. “If you want me to…” you answered him. Mike looked one more time over to you, a wide smile plastered over his face. 

He was talking without pause throughout the whole ride, which you thought was fucking adorable. Finally he pulled into the driveway of a small wooden house. “Here we are. Looks like dad is still working so we have the house for ourselves.”

Mike got out of the car quickly and opened the door for you. He took your hands and pulled you into his arms. “I’m happy that I couldn't prank Sy tonight.” he said and pressed a kiss on your nose. Then his hands grabbed your thighs and in the next moment you felt him carry you over to the door. You squeaked in surprise.

“Let me down, Mike!” you said, laughing. “Not happening, princess.” He managed to open the door with you holding onto his neck. You wriggled in his arms but his grip on your legs just got tighter. “Would you stop that, babycakes? This is really distracting!” You gave him a cheeky grin.

Finally you made it to his room and Mike put you carefully down on his bed. “I need to get rid of these wet clothes. Do you want to change into something else, too?” he asked, already tugging on the hem of his shirt. You got up and helped him pull his shirt over his head. You ran your hand over his chest.

“I don’t think I need clothes right now. And you don’t, either.” You had no idea where these words came from. Mikey gulped and fiddled at your shirt nervously. Slowly you helped each other out of your clothes. When you both were standing in front of each other in your underwear, Mikey started to kiss you and slowly walked you back to the bed. You both let yourself fall onto the mattress and lay on your sides. You hooked your leg around his thigh.

After what felt like an eternity of kissing each other and hands, lips and tongues roaming over each other's body, Mike’s hands found their way to the back of your bra. He brushed his fingers up and down over the soft lace, searching for the clasp to open it.

You chuckled and pressed his shoulder onto the mattress. When he lay on his back you straddled him and pointed to the small hook between your breasts. “Here, Mikey!” He raised an eyebrow. “Why do girls' clothes always need to be so complicated?” You both snickered.

Mike tried his luck on the front closure of your bra and was successful after all. You brushed the straps from your shoulder and Mike took in the sight of your bare breasts with wide eyes. He licked over his lips and then he arched his back and dived right into your soft flesh. He rubbed and kissed and licked every inch of skin until he finally stopped teasing you and swirled his tongue over your hard nipples.

You moaned at the sensation when he let go again and the air cooled the sensitive skin of your buds. His hands kneaded both your breasts and Mike sank his head once more between them, spilling kisses all over. He lifted his head to look at you and grinned “Is it too soon to say that I love your boobies?” You just shook your head at the cute dork and he resumed his ministrations on your nipples.

You felt the tension that built in your core and rolled your hip to get some release. The thin fabrics of your underwear couldn’t hide neither the hard bulge that pressed against you, nor the wetness that gathered between your legs.

Mike’s hands roamed over your sides, down your hips and under the elastic of your panties. When he couldn’t find a comfortable position to dive his fingers deeper between your legs, he groaned frustratedly.

His hands came back onto your waist and he lifted you off of his lap and pressed your back onto the mattress. Kneeling beside you, his lips got back to their favorite spot on your breasts while his hand finally slipped into your panties and his fingers carefully parted your folds. 

“Hell, you are dripping, sweetcheeks! this is awesome.” Faster as you could process Mikey rolled the last piece of your clothes down your legs. He pressed your legs apart and settled between them. Carefully he lifted your leg and pressed kisses on your ankle. Slowly he travelled up your leg with little nips and kisses. Unbearingly long he spent his time on the sensible skin of the back of your knee. 

You took in a sharp breath when he moved further up, his mouth sucking on your inner thigh while his soft curls brushed over your folds. He pulled back and his gaze fell between your legs. You tried to put your knees together, but he stopped you. “Don’t hide! You are gorgeous like that. I guess you taste delicious.”

And then his mouth pressed against your core. His wide tongue lapped through your folds ánd circled your clit. You couldn't help but jerk your hips up. Mike pressed a hand on your abdomen to keep you from moving. You felt the warmth of his mouth all over your pussy, licking around your entrance, sucking on your clit. 

When you thought the sensations you felt couldn’t be any stronger he pushed a finger into you. “Fuck! Mike!” you gasped and you could feel his lips forming into a grin on your folds. He added a second finger and slowly pumped in and out of you. He curled them up and when he heard your breath getting faster and felt your muscles cramp around his digits he knew he had found what he was searching for.

He increased his pace and rolled your clit between his lips, knowing perfectly well that he pulled you over the edge with it. Slowly you came down from your high and Mike lazily lapped a few more times through your folds before he crawled back up to you.

“Good?” he asked you with a sheepish grin. “You’re fishing for compliments! You know exactly that it was fantastic.” His grin just got wider after your response. You pulled him down to another deep kiss. Mike rolled onto you and you felt his hard cock press against your middle. You both groaned at the sensation. But to your surprise Mike said: “We can stop anytime, you know? No pressure.”  

Could this guy be any cuter? You shook your head. “I’m not finished with you yet, Mike.” You lifted your hips up to press it against him. “I want to feel you inside of me.” He let out a growl and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Then he pressed a kiss onto your forehead and got up. He went over to his dresser and rummaged through the drawers. 

You wondered for a moment what the hell he was doing, when he held up the small foil package and shouted “Got it!” You laughed. Mikey casually dropped his boxers down on his way back to the bed. As soon as his cock sprang free, your laughter died down. He was big. 

Mike kneeled between your legs and bowed down to kiss your belly button. Then he sat back on his heels and slowly stroked himself. 

“Are you sure?” he asked you once again. You nodded and smiled at him. Mike opened the package and rolled the condom over his hard shaft. Slowly he ran the thick head of his dick through your folds, gathering your slick.

Then you felt him at your entrance, carefully pushing into you, inch by inch. You gasped as you felt him stretching you open. When he finally was fully settled you both held your breath for a moment. He pressed a chast kiss on your lips and then he began to move. 

He started with slow movements, pulling out just a little before he slowly sank into you again. You ran your nails down his back, looking at him pleadingly. But Mike didn’t change his slow pace. You knew exactly that he waited for you to beg.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed your heels into his back, forcing him to go deeper. When he still didn’t move faster you decided that you have to give in. “Please, Mikey, harder!” He chuckled and finally he pulled out of you almost completely before he thrust back into you fast and hard. You screamed and put your fist on your mouth.

Mikey’s hand shot up and pulled it back. “No one here who can hear you, no need to hold back.” And then he entwined his fingers with yours and started to fuck you senseless. You felt your second high building up soon.

You were panting and squirming under Mike’s tall frame. Mike’s handsome face tensed and he pressed his eyes shut. He was close, too.  He lost his rhythm but rutted into you fervently.

A few more thrusts and you came undone. Your walls were pulsing around him and brought him to his own climax. He pulled out of you and you whimpered at the empty feeling between your legs. Mike pressed a kiss on your thigh and then got up to get rid of the condom.

When he got back he held out a towel for you. “Thank you. But I need to go to the bathroom,” you told him. “Oh, sure! Mike opened the door to his room and pointed to his left. “Second door on the right.” You made your way to the bathroom, hoping you wouldn’t run into Mike’s dad. 

Gladly you were back in Mike’s room without any awkward encounters soon. You grabbed your clothes when Mike took your hand. “You could stay if you want to,” he said softly. You smiled at him and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “That would be nice.”

Mike looked through his drawers once more and held out a shirt and some boxers to you.

You both crawled onto the bed and Mike put his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Goodnight, sweetcheeks! So happy that I made you wet.” You slapped your hand on his chest but giggled nevertheless over his bad pun. Then you kissed lazily until you both drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke up, Mike was still snoring silently next to you. Carefully you wriggled yourself free under his arm. You really needed to pee. On tiptoes you walked through the hallway and opened the bathroom door.

You froze when you looked up at the tall man standing at the sink. His bare back showed some well defined muscles and he stared at you through the mirror with a raised eyebrow. His lips were pressed to a thin line, almost invisible with his wild beard. So this must be grumpy Walter, you guessed.

[127luvr]

oi can i request a taems fic by any chance ?? like he'd be the boy next door you always hung out with .... he always brought you some sweets ....... and he treated you to some coffee ... and he was so sweet that yn fell in love or sum ... and one day BOOM friends to lovers

ofc if you have time ! I'm not forcing u, but if you did, then thank uuu!!

Just me and you ✧˖°⋆｡˚

Lee Taemin x male reader

Taemin has known who he was since he was five years old. He was not a shy boy—rather one who wasn’t afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve.

On the contrary—when you were five years old, you were timid. Scared of everything under the sun and reserved after moving across the state. You were a sheltered kid, living life comfortably with only your family as friends until you moved to a suburban neighborhood.

Your room happened to line up in view of Taemin’s, his superhero curtains in plain view when you peaked over the window sill.

“(Y/n), we’re going to go say hi to the neighbors, okay?”

You could never quite remember how meeting Taemin went—the details blurry as all you recall is hiding behind your mom’s legs with sweaty palms and mismatched socks. But he remembers it clearly. He remembers your (f/c) shirt and cargo shorts that were too big on you. And while his brain couldn’t quite comprehend what this feeling was, he knew he wanted you in his life forever the moment he set eyes on you.

And that’s how your friendship escalated.

From play dates in his backyard—seeing who could swing higher—to late nights at your local cafe sitting opposite each other while studying for finals. You were inseparable. Never letting anyone or anything come between the two of you, there was never a period of time where you drifted apart from Taemin. Until now.

You were sitting at your desk with the chair facing your window. The blackout curtains you bought pulled to one side letting in the various colors the sky projected as the sun set. You could still see into Taemin’s room—albeit with poor vision—but you can’t remember when his curtains went from his superhero ones to plain grey. You can’t remember when he switched his race car bed out for a full-sized bed that sat in the middle of his room. You remember being so amazed at his bed, running your tiny hands around the plastic wheels one day when you were over.

You watched as his legs hung over the edge of his bed, bare calves spilling on the sides as he relaxed his muscles. You don’t remember when you started observing him like this. Watching as he lived his life away from you—but one day you started watching him absentmindedly. Watching as he stretched and learned choreography for his classes. Watching as he got dressed just to come over with an overnight bag that carried a week’s worth of clothes even if he was staying over for a day or two—even if he lived right next to you not even a minute’s walk away. This is easier. Watching as he lived his life as you tried to put words to your feelings.

Feelings you didn’t know you had until just yesterday—prompting you two to go the longest you have ever gone without seeing each other in years.

It had just been a day. Twenty-four long grueling hours but you already missed him. He would usually show up unannounced, spending a few minutes catching up with your parents before running up the stairs two at a time with your favorite snacks and drinks in hand. Not once have you had to ask him—or even tell him what you liked. He always just knew.

You turn your chair to finally face your desk, throwing your head back to stare blankly at your ceiling. There was no way you were going to let this affect your relationship with Taemin.

You pick your phone up to call him, unable to hold back the smile that pulls at your lips as you look at his contact picture. You bring the phone up to your ear, still watching the ceiling diligently as you count the rings on the other end.

“Hey—”

“Coffee?”

“Race you there.”

There’s never been an awkward moment with Taemin. Never a silence that was overshadowed by your inability to form words until now. You can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of your face, his unreadable expression cause more nerves to settle in your body. It’s not an easy thing—sitting across from Taemin with these newly found feelings with a cup of your favorite coffee that he ordered and purchased before you could double click the lock button on your phone to pull up your card. It’s not easy as you can’t help but watch as his lips wrap around the green straw that bends at the entrance of his cup. You never noticed how plump they were.

“Y/n—”

“I think I have feelings for you.” Word vomit. It wasn’t the first thing you were planning on saying face-to-face after twenty-four hours. It wasn’t supposed to leave your mouth at all for that matter. “Romantic feelings.”

“I thought we were dating already.” You were glad he waited until you were done swallowing a sip of your drink—afraid that if there was any liquid in your mouth it would’ve been spat out. “I’m just kidding—I’m sorry, I wanted to lighten the mood, you’re so nervous.” It’s not a rejection—however it’s not an acknowledgment either. Taemin has no reaction to your confession and it makes your stomach turn. But he anticipates this, he anticipates your overthinking even before you get to say anything in return. “Hey, it’s okay, (Y/n). I’ve been waiting for you to come to the conclusion yourself.”

This confuses you—was it a confession of his own? Or had you been outwardly obvious about your feelings for him even before you realized them for yourself?

“I’ve always knows to some extent, (Y/n). Not about your feelings, but my own. I thought I had been obvious but we’ve always incorporated certain rituals that blur the line between a platonic and romantic relationship into our own friendship—I think somewhere along the way I never stopped to wonder if there were things I did that were friendly or boyfriend-y…” Taemin cringes at the use of the word, continuing his rambling instead of worrying about his wording. “I’ve always done things because you’re my friend but somehow I started doing them because I like you.”

Speechless. Taemin is far from awkward when he ends his speech and you have always envied this about him. His ability to talk openly about his feelings—something that scared you to death even if he returned your feelings. He gestures for you to talk again, face soft as he watches you shake your leg uncontrollably.

“I want you in my life forever, Taem. As my best friend and as a partner. I don’t think we could get this wrong—”

“Slow down, (Y/n), you can’t propose yet. We haven’t been on a single date.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, smiling fondly at his playfulness. There was no way the two of you could get this wrong, you were meant to be in Taemin’s life as he was meant to be in yours.

[werezmastarbucks]

golden hour hill roll

pic credit

masterlist

word count: 1395

The police paid them a visit the next day. Tyler took Sam to the basement and showed him all his whimsical little musical instruments; he had a very old guitar and a shaky keyboard standing on three thin legs; had a set of drums with differently colored drumsticks. Sam despised all of that; the instruments were the opposite of what the boy craved, which was peace and quiet. Instruments produced music. Music was noise.

Kai spoke to the policemen who weren’t much concerned with their parents’ month-long absence. Kai held on to the door and listened to the two officers, both of them with protruding teeth, like they were brothers. They said the little boy’s body has been discovered in the sewage tunnel under the road, three houses away from where he lived. It took them two weeks to locate the body, and in the water, and in the company of rats, little Teddy became barely recognizable.

“Uh-huh”, Kai nodded, “awful. Who would’ve done anything like that to a child?”

“We’re only disclosing the circumstances of his discovery for you guys to be cautious. It’s the third body in the last two months in your neighborhood. You’ve seen anything concerning?”

“Officer, my two brothers are very special, I see concerning every day. They are… both… challenged”, Kai said and immediately started chewing his lip. He caught the smile at the very last second and instead pretended to be fully distressed.

“Be careful. If you see anything, call us immediately”.

“You think there’s a serial killer?”

Kai could see a neighbor, the bitch from the fourth house to the left, pacing the street behind their backs in the distance. She kept an eye on them all the time. Pretended to be looking out for the boys while the parents were away. Constantly judging them, the religious fucking fanatic. Her daughter though. Ruby Summers was, as they say, a real piece of ass. Aaand she liked Tyler.

He failed to hear the response to his own question and now stared at the cops with the same worried expression on his face.

“Is there any way we could chat with your brothers, mister Parker?”

“Samson is very ill…” he said slowly, “and Tyler is at work, so…”

They nodded with understanding. Sheer angels, these guys.

As they were leaving, Kai caught Mrs Summers’ eye. She turned away and started walking again as if she hadn’t been sniffing for the details. Will they grab him? Maybe she hoped they’d shoot him where he stood. Evil or not, Kai had to admit Summers suspected something. She couldn’t really put her finger to what. But, like an animal, she sensed something was off. Maybe she would be the first to finally figure out that he is trying to spell his name with bodies under the ground. But it would be too early. The five bodies he put in the sewer only made the bar in the first letter, K.

He shut the door with an energetic swing. Sam raced up the stairs back into the living.

“It’s a good thing. It’s a good thing Tyler took me down, because when I heard your guys’ voices, I started talking about Teddy out loud”, he nodded several times. “I heard the question, where have you been on the fourth, and started answering, because I knew you would lie to them. It’s a good thing Tyler took me away”.

Kai ruffled the youngest’s hair knowing full well Sam hated it.

“Keep low today, I also lied that you’re terribly ill”.

“Why?”

“So that they don’t want to question you”.

Sam went pale as if he immediately took to making himself ill.

Kai went down to Tyler’s room, also known as basement, and found the brother sitting on his little thrashed sofa prepped against the wall. His neck was all black. Tyler slowly tilted his head left and right. Kai could tell he was in pain even from just looking at him.

“Worse?”

Tyler was silent. They made peace yesterday with sandwiches and boardgames. Kai won by cheating which sent Sam into a crazy fit that lasted for thirty minutes. Tyler had such a strong headache he threw up in the living room. By all means the night went great.

He fell on the sofa next to Tyler confidently.

“Are they gone?” the middle one asked in hollow voice. When he was like that, he looked just a little dangerous which Kai liked.

“Yeah. Start getting concerned”.

“So maybe that means you should stop”.

“You know what else we should stop doing?”

Tyler had put up old towels, thrifted rugs and carpets on the walls of his so-called music studio. But nothing helped quieten his screams when he started recording. The shrieking was so blood-chilling that sometimes it seemed like he was being eaten alive.

Tyler was only able to turn his head a little. Kai could see the dry tear lines on his brother’s cheeks and didn’t like that. As opposed to earlier.

“What?”

“Stop lying to Sam about parents. Sooner or later his anxiety will take over and he’ll run to the neighbors or start shouting from the rooftops. Or just figure out himself”.

Tyler stood up and started walking towards the only holy place in the basement: industrial size refrigerator, always full of ice-cold soda. He would take out a can and press it hard against his aching head, and it would help a little. He wasn’t responding yet.

Pink, orange, neon blue, acid green, he had it all. Sprite, Pepsi, Fanta, Mountain Dew, Dr Pepper, Zima, A&W, it was Kai who stocked and restocked the wonder fridge of salvation.

“Which one do you want?” he asked.

“Dr Pepper”.

He took two cans: red and blue, and brought them back to the sofa.

Kai’s sly eyes were watching him. It was enough just to see that Tyler has registered what he said. That he started fidgeting around.

They drank sweet, gum collapsing soda in silence for some time. The fridge hummed its monotonous melody, Tyler’s black fingers were tightly wrapped around the cold thin metal of the can. The migraine subdued a little, and he could see colors again. He watched his black-and-white brother, so black-and-white that he was almost bloody. Kai’s face was so pale, you could take a tiny pin and prick him a little, and this skin would burst like a tightly strained balloon; and he would explode in blood. And the blood would be sugary sweet.

Wednesdays were the hill days. Samson needed to get out of the house at the golden hour once in a while. It was a little ritual of theirs; perhaps the only wholesome one. Three streets away, fifteen minutes far from home, the road suddenly dropped down off the majestic hill. The road was always empty on Wednesday evenings when they came rolling down, they didn’t know why; maybe it was luck. Empty cars parked neatly on the sides of the road, clenching on the asphalt at the steep angle with their tires. No people peeking out, it was like the street would become desolated for an hour that they spent there until the twilight came. They usually stood on the top of the hill; Tyler and Kai with their boards, and Sam, with his bicycle, and looked at the orange world getting ready for the night. The road went on and on, and beyond, an ugly world continued again. But here, on the tilted surface of the hill, their world was just the clean asphalt.

They would roll down in complete silence. Tyler sometimes undertook attempts at teaching Kai to lose speed in order not to let his board wiggle; but they were never fruitful. Sam always rode clenching the handlebars of his bike like his life depended on it. And still, he was always the impulse behind going there; he loved this golden hour hill roll. Shirts flapped around their waists, and Tyler’s migraine ceased just for an hour. They never fell on that hill, not a single time, and were perfectly happy there. The ride, and the wind, and the silence kept them satisfied. They would roll down in line, Kai always speeding up eventually, and then make their way back up the hill, and go down again, and repeated the process until the sun went down. And then the ugly world would overtake once again.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Family Dynamics

None of them quite knew what they were expecting when Jaskier invited Geralt and Yennefer to move in to his house in Oxenfurt. Yennefer was lonely in Aretuza, and Geralt and Jaskier needed a more permanent place to stay when Geralt was between jobs or Jaskier had to work on band business.

They were all probably expecting it to be one of those awkward roommate situations where a couple and the third wheel best friend all split the bills and live under the same roof. It ended up being nothing like what they were expecting.

They all secretly expected Jaskier and Yennefer to make it maybe a month before they were at each other's throats and Yennefer decided to leave. It already looked as if they could barely stand each other. They always seemed to be arguing, insulting each other, or being passive agressive.

And then came the subtle smiles, the slight playful tones...

Jaskier and Yennefer had finally bonded. Geralt figured that since they were friends now, things would settle down. But he was wrong. So very wrong. They all got sucked into this new chaotic relationship.

Yennefer always complains about how Geralt and Jaskier are nothing but trouble when they are together. How she can't turn her back on them for five minutes before Geralt loses all higher brain function and somehow allows Jaskier to convince him to do some of the most stupid, and/or annoying things.

Things like:

Building blanket forts and refusing to let Yennefer in unless she knows the Super Secret Password. It's 'Bewbs'.

Tying a bunch of helium balloons to a blow up doll and setting it loose in the backyard to float away, then running inside to monitor the police scanner to see how many 911 calls it recieved.

Buying a tiny fat pony. Not Jaskier's fault this time. They were driving home and Geralt sees the advertisement on the fence and has to stop because all the fluffy babies are out in the field and he sees a little red one, and is just going "Oh my GAWD, I want to take her home! We can put her in the van!"

Geralt just really loves horses, ok? And she fits in the van!

And now they have to say Wee Roach, or Van Roach so no one gets confused as to which Roach they are talking about.

The constant That's What She Said, Everything Can Be A Toy If You're Brave Enough, and I Fell On It jokes. And all the other inappropriate jokes Jaskier is constantly waiting to make.

Yennefer and Geralt have forbidden Jaskier from physically entering any sandwich shop ever again. They never did find out Jaskier's answer to "How do you want your sub topped?" Because Geralt had, thankfully, been close enough to clamp his hand over his mouth in time.

The laughing fits that start over words like "butthole". All it takes is for Jaskier to start laughing, and then Geralt starts laughing, which makes Jaskier laugh even more... Heaven help them if they are in public, or even worse, at a public function and something sets Jaskier off. He will try to get the person who said the trigger word to say it more.

And then they get kicked out.

Yennefer feels like she's babysitting two 6 year olds.

Jaskier convincing Geralt to walk around the grocery store acting like a gorilla

Jaskier convincing Geralt to squeeze into Yennefer's yoga pants, then go for a nice jog around the neighborhood.

Yennefer having to hold their hands at stores/shops/amusement parks so they don't run off and get into trouble. Or get lost.

Blowing their straw papers at each other and Yennefer. (Jaskier always tries to get his straw paper to stick in Yennefer's cleavage. Geralt aims for her hair because he's not that stupid.)

Leaving messes everywhere. Trails of clothes leading to the bathroom. Messes in the kitchen. Crumbs on the couch. Seat left up, or 'sprinkled on' and not wiped off...

Constantly walking in on them doing whatever the hot new tiktok trend was. The Beethoven Challenge had truly been a sight, she had to admit.

Ridiculous games. Like the one where they put kazoos or harmonicas in their mouths and took turns zapping each other on their bare a**es with bug zapper paddles.

Putting random price tags on random items at the store to see if they can make it through the checkout line with it.

Surprisingly, it works the majority of the time. Which is how they ended up with a wet floor sign shaped like a giant banana peel, a big plastic horse from a wine display, and a standee of the store mascot

And trying to rip each other's back pockets off. Geralt had completely ripped the entire a** out Jaskier's jeans. In the middle of the grocery store.

And don't get her started on how she couldn't make a phone call around them. Yennefer lived in constant fear that her phone would ring in their presence. Because that meant trying to talk on the phone while they

Yell random things like:

Is that the brothel again? Was my credit card declined?

That doesn't go in your butt!

Why are you lying to them like that?

Stop hogging the bong!

Yen, help, he's escaped the basement again!

Geralt will do a very realistic impression of a barking dog.

Jaskier will randomly scream.

They will team up and pretend to be two children fighting over something "MoOoooMM! Geralt/Jaskier is...."

"MoOOMMM, I frew up!"

Pretend there is a small crisis going on and run around cursing in the background.

Make random moaning/creaking/slapping/thumping combinations.

Make fart noises.

Bang pots and pans together

Random sex jokes

Deez Nuts jokes

But what Yennefer didn't realize (or refused to acknowledge) was that her and Jaskier were just as bad.

Geralt secretly referred to them as the Chaotic Siblings.

Yennefer tried to be the responsible, mature one of the pair, but always ended up getting sucked in by Jaskier's playful energy. Which always left Geralt feeling like a Tired Dad.

They will fight, argue, and annoy the h*ll out of each other and Geralt for fun.

Some of the things they do are:

The Butt Poke of Death. Geralt can't remember who started it, but Jaskier and Yennefer spent weeks jumping at every opportunity to stab each other in the a**. Then they involved Geralt, and they all ended up walking around the house, constantly on guard, relexively covering their butts.

Embarrassing Yennefer in public. Jaskier starts walking weird, making odd random noises, or just acting embarrassing in public and follows Yen around as she tries to get the h*ll away from him. He just starts walking weirder and weirder. Running just makes it worse. He will chase her, doing the "I'm frEEEE~!" run.

Jaskier and Yen once did the Awkward JCPenny Sibling photoshoot. They wore the cringiest clothes they could find and did all the awkward Sibling poses. They do it every year now and pick the worst one, have it framed, and hang it on the wall in Roach. Last year's photo is moved to the livingroom wall where everyone who walks in the door can see it .

They even get Geralt to sometimes involve himself in their nonsnse. Like the time when Jaskier and Yennefer got bored on rainy day and started doing old kid's crafts they remembered doing from their childhoods. Classics like the Squawking Chicken Cup, plastic mesh canvas crafts, fuse beads, paper mache, etc. Geralt had declined joining them. And then they'd started making Friendship Pins for each other. Geralt had absolutely not been jealous as he'd watched them trade their pins. He'd just been bored, okay? He'd definitley not sat down and started making pins because he was jealous!

The pranks are even worse. Geralt is always an unwitting participant. Like the time they filled his room with balloons. Geralt had started popping balloons just so he could get into his room, and found the one balloon they had filled with glitter. He'd been rather irate about it, but as the Chaotic Siblings had put it as he'd chased them through the house, "At least you look fabulous!"

Not even a week later Geralt had been opening a soda bottle in the kitchen when Jaskier had run up behind him and dropped a mentos in the bottle when Geralt turned to get his glass. They'd run like h*ll after the soda spewed all over Geralt. Yen's phone has the whole thing on video, including the chaotic shaking view of her running from Geralt.

Putting clear tape across the doorways at face height and watching Geralt walk into it.

Switching places when Yennefer is walking with Geralt. The Siblings had gotten a good laugh when Geralt realized that at some point they had switched places and he'd been holding Jaskier's hand for the past 15 minutes.

They bought a big bag of gummy bears, waited until Geralt had gone to bed, then spent a few hours licking each gummy bear and then sticking them to the ceiling of Geralt's van.

F**king with Geralt's collection of horse figurines by either replacing one with a random a** object, or dressing one up, and waiting to see how long it takes him to notice.

Sometimes they just abduct one and hold it hostage until Geralt pays the ridiculous ransom they came up with.

Which is how Geralt ended up walking out of the salon with hidden pastel rainbow hair.

And not to mention all the random, childish things, like

Interacting with random statues they come across, resulting in hilarious photos.

Full sleeve tattoos using assorted kids' temporary tattoos

Both of them constantly yelling "gErALt!" whenever one of them did someting particularly annoying to the other. Like how Yennefer keeps calling Jaskier 'Babygirl' in front of his band. Or telling Geralt that Jaskier is his other wife.

Eskel and Geralt have a private joke that Jaskier is Yennefer's gay boyfriend. Eskel even took all the footage he had collected of Yennefer and Jaskier interacting and put it to Gay Boyfriend by The Hazzards.

Not being able to play a serious game of pool because Jaskier keeps dancing around his pool cue while Yennefer sings "Somebody come get her, she's dancin' like a stripper!"

Or they end up just contantly trying to poke each other with the pool cues.

Or they get drunk, turn the barstools upside down and sit between the legs and have 'barstool rodeos'. The first one to tip over loses.

The a** slapping battles that subsequently end up with bickering, name calling, and sulking.

Which dovetails into their wrestling matches, that always end in high pitched screams for help when Yennefer gets the upper hand.

They call Geralt by going "Pspspspsps!"

Geralt hates it because he turns to look every single time. He hates it even more when they do it in public.

He tried to ignore a public summons once, and had done a pretty decent job of barely twitching, until Yennefer had called loudly, "Geralt Roger Eric-!" And Geralt had never moved faster in his life.

He'd thought they had given up "cat" calling him, until he found out they had changed his ringtone. Now when one them calls him, it's a recording of the specific Sibling going "Pspspspsp!"

They will, every once in a while, even send him a text message that reads "Pspspspsps!"

They found out that a squeaky ball worked just as well. Geralt's in his room and Yen wants to ask him something? Squeaky Ball! Don't know where Geralt is? Just give the ball a squeak!

And if that wasn't bad/annoying enough, the little sh*ts will casually walk up to him, start scratching his cheeks/chin, and just smile as his eyes dilate and he starts purring.

Geralt tries to resist, but as soon as the skritches start, his brain just goes 'Brrrrr! Skritches Good!' and he's gone! He can't even remember what he was doing/saying.

And Geralt is pretty sure the Siblings have used the Chin/Cheek Skritch technique on numerous occasions to get themselves out of trouble.

The Squeaky Ball works just as well. Just give it a squeak and throw it, and Geralt forgets all about being mad!