#anyway im spending the day writing but i wanted to make sure to say happy pride~

[thelonelyshore-if]

Happy Pride to everyone who celebrates!!! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hello, Happy Holy Ramadan. I know your request box is closed, but when your request box is opened, can you make this request? if it doesn't bother you, could you do Long Ramadan headcanons for Damian Wayne and the reader? I saw your Damian wayne x muslim reader post before. And I thought it was appropriate to ask you this. If this request bothers you, feel free to ignore it. Have a nice day 🩷🩷🩷🤚

Ramadan HCs

Muslim!Damian Wayne x Muslim!Reader

hey there sweetheart and Ramadan Mubarak <3! firstly i'm so sorry that it took me so long to respond to the ask! im ashamed it took me a year honestly. requests are closed but i still wanted to be able to write for this because we obviously need more muslim representation and also the last time i posted the muslim hc for damian there were just so many of the readers who texted me or sent asks or commented saying that they really appreciated the representation

anyways i wasn't sure if i was going to respond or not because it has been a year but since it is currently Ramadan and it's going to end very soon I figured why not

Thank you for being so respectful in your ask, I really appreciate it and I hope you like it. Hope you have a very blessed Ramadan and wishing everyone a lot of health and happiness during this time. Even to my non-muslim readers, I hope you all are doing well and you're all healthy <3333

also i know that there is a very slim chance of this happening because all of you are amazing but i will not tolerate any hate of any kind. if you

your first Ramadan after being married to Damian was certainly a new experience

before being married, you were just used to your parents handling everything for you

by the time you wake up for suhoor, the table would be set

by the time you'd be home from university, your mother would be waiting by the door with a date and a glass of water

so now that you were married and you had to handle everything on your own, it took a little bit of getting used to

luckily for you, Damian is a very hands on type of man

he's the kind of person who'd just drink a cup of water or a glass of milk, maybe a couple of dates or a fruit and he'd be ok for the remainder of the day

but god forbid you even think of doing the same thing

he'd just about have a heart attack

absolutely not

initially, he'd request Alfred to make meals for you so he could bring them home for the both of you to have suhoor together

just until the both of you got the hang of it

after that damian would either help you cook before patrol so there would be food ready for the both of you

or he'd swing by some restaurant that was open and grab some takeout for the both of you

he'd heat up the food and set the table and making sure everything was absolutely ready before finally waking you up

practically carrying your sleepyass to the table and handfeeding you so he can make sure you're eating properly

since he handles suhoor, you handle iftar and keep the table set so you can eat together

you could always just stay at the manor so you wouldn't have to worry about the meals, like bruce or dick have suggested so many times

but you prefer living alone with your husband

no offense to them at all

but it's just easier for you to maintain your modesty at your own home

anyways

your marriage gets really tested during Ramadan

the two of you are barely getting any sleep and it's difficult for you both to get used to

the only time that you both spend together and are completely present is when he should be patrolling

the lack of sleep makes you both kind of cranky

and it's difficult to not snap at each other

eventually you both get pretty tired and exhausted and just slip into routine

but of course it's nothing some sleep and some time spent together can't solve

and since you've been trying to reduce watching movies and listening to music during the holy month, you end up playing board games together or going for long drives together where you just talk and talk and talk

you thought you were extremely secure in your marriage

that was until you saw damian pout and give you the silent treatment after losing a game of gin rummy

then claiming you shouldn't be playing a game called 'jinn' in the first place

not swearing or talking shit during ramadan was especially hard for him

especially with tim and steph yelling 'fi ramadan?' at him everytime he makes even the slightest snide comment

you find it hilarious but i digress

whenever you go to the masjid for nightly prayers, damian and you will go and find a new ice cream place to try out late at night

you mention in passing how the women's side of the mosque is so bland compared to the men's and damian immediately looks into getting the mosque refurbished so that you and other women can enjoy it

damian's shoes get stolen once and the great detective actually couldn't find out who it was

you hear him complain about it constantly

CONSTANTLY

this time is when you both really lean into the adorable muslim couple aesthetic

matching prayer mats with each of your names embroidered on it

matching tasbih

and other things you get the picture

you both go all out for ramadan and decorate your home from top to bottom

since you both don't really celebrate many of the western holidays, he really wants to make this a memorable time for the both of you

and so do you

you hold an iftar party at your place many times with all your friends and family

it started out with you just inviting everyone but eventually it became a weekly potluck, which you really appreciated

bro damian is more excited about Eid than you are

he literally has to keep reminding you to get your dress ready for Eid al fitr

because he wants to get a jubbah in a matching color and surprise you

you know how you have those cute texts of girlies asking their bfs for their opinions on their nails?

the exact same thing

except with HENNA

you send him like 100 different pictures a week, planning which design you want to wear for Eid

he responds to all of them with utmost seriousness

obviously, he's an artist

he knows whats the difference between arabic and indian designs for henna

but secretly he's wondering why you're sending him so many when you only have 2 hands

but um hello he's never going to tell you that

because it's ramadan and obv ramadan related stuff is going to be appearing on everyones fyp he has to deal with both you and dick sending him videos of the scholars being funny (iykyk)

hey guys let's start ramadan w a bang

also has to deal with jason asking him CONSTANTLY how he's still able to walk around when all the demons are supposed to be locked up for the month

plus he has to now deal with you watching mukbangs and restaurant reviews and crying to him about how you're starving

why on earth did silent asmr mukbangs of wingstop get so popular only during ramadan?

believe me every single prayer damian makes during this month, he is thanking god for bringing you to him and praying for your health and your happiness

when you found out, you cried in his arms for a good solid 5 minutes

he also secretly kind of prayed for kids on laylat ul qadr but you didn't hear it from me

not only is this month really special for the both of you, you take it as an opportunity to give back

damian has wayne enterprises run soup kitchens for the entire month and they serve all people meals as well as suhoor and iftar

you both volunteer there personally

you donate money of course and damian will tell you that everytime he does it, he feels fulfilled in a way he never has before

you honestly feel so proud of the man you feel blessed to call your husband

also, like the perfect husband he is, he sends gifts and food to your parents

who quickly begin to regard him as better than your own siblings

much to his secret pleasure

uk i wish i could keep going

honestly ramadan is such a magical and rewarding time of the year

and you are so happy to spend it along with damian

P.S.

while damian completely understood the point of sacrificing a goat for Eid al adha

he still cried about it to you the night before out of guilt

you definitely donated the meat that came out of that

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

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@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

[in-som-niyah]

hi!! i’m literally so obsessed with your work i’ve been scrolling your profile all day 😭😭 i was wondering if you could write something about jason x fem!reader getting married? mostly fluff but ill never say no to some good smut

a/n: "i’m literally so obsessed with your work i’ve been scrolling your profile all day" WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNNN STOP UR GONNA MAKE ME CRY THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME HELLO??? like wdym u like my work so much u spend so much time on my blog i love u gimme kiss

anyway this prompt is *chefs kiss* bc we all know Big Bad Jason Todd™ is such a loverboy softie but most of all he loves hard.

I think that before he met you he never thought that he would be so enamoured with someone who also feels the same way about him at the same time, that also wants to marry him??? He thinks he's too flawed and violent and abrasive for someone to even like being around him. So marrying him??? haha you're funny.

But after YEARS (yes, it takes him years of a committed relationship with you to fully trust that you actually like being with him for an extended period of time, let alone forever) of handling his emotions, outbursts and injuries with grace while still giving him a whack at the back of his head when he's being stupid, he considers marrying you.

Remember, Jason Todd is fucking scared himself, and he doesn't want to scare you off with a ring that literally promises forever with him. Though he loves you, he wants you to be happy in the end. Will you be happy with him in the end?

It takes a lot of mental and emotional strength to overcome these fears that swirl around his head.

When he does get over it though, he's so attentive yet sneaky when picking your ring. There's a luxury jewellery store on the way to your favourite clothing store at the mall, and he literally takes you to the whole mall just to pass by the store. He always looks to see what your eyes catch, what you like and don't like. Doesn't matter if he ends up spending hundreds since you're at the mall so much, he'll do it just to make sure he gets exactly what you want.

Jason also uses his extensive detective training to find out what cut and stone you want on the ring. He's ok with diamonds, but would want something more unique and personal for his love. He wants something that always reflects you, no matter the occasion.

Side note: once the ring comes he would definitely put together a photo album of pics he took of the ring in plain sight while you're completely oblivious just for shits and giggles

Finally, when it's time to pop the question, he doesn't do flashy and big productions with lights and letters and petals and stuff.

He would be dancing in the kitchen with you on a lazy Saturday, eating pancakes and bacon and when the song ends just casually asks "if I were to ask you, would you marry me?" Now he looks collected as he lovingly smiles down at you but is actually shitting himself until you say that you would in fact marry him if he asked. Then he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the most perfect, detailed, gorgeous ring you could ever ask for while properly asking you to marry him. Cue the waterworks (from both of you) and the celebratory make-out sesh.

Y'all definitely fucking the night of the proposal though

I feel like it would be realllllly possessive since yk you literally belong to him now

"tell me who this pussy belongs to, pretty girl" Knowing full well you can't answer because your eyes have already rolled back mid-stroke and you're babbling incoherently. It does, however, put a smug ass smirk on his face.

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

a/n pt2 bc i can't shut up: i hope u like it!!! i wasn't in the mood to write anything smutty but idk im in my soft era for jason i just want his stoic self to love me :(((((

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOTES — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: after months of mutual pining, jess arrives at luke’s having read your favourite novel. oh, and he has some notes.

warnings: swearing, jokey sexual reference, other than that just tooth rotting fluff vibes

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i loved it sm i had to immediately start writing!!! i hope it does jess justice — i love writing him so much. i may go back and edit some bits im not 100% happy with — but i hope you enjoy!!!

pleaaaaase let me know what you think — i love love love reading you guys’ feedback <3

———

“I finished it.”

If you were anyone else, you’d have jumped out of your skin at the sudden, and rather loud, appearance of someone beside you.

But this was you, and it was Jess, so you were more than used to your ‘peaceful’ study sessions at Luke’s being interrupted by his ever-present smirk, his flirting and his endless supply of smartarse comments.

Not that you could complain.

You’d grown used to his omnipresence over a year ago. And it had been months now since you’d realised that you no longer just tolerated his company — you enjoyed it a ridiculous amount and instead longed for it when he wasn’t around.

You eyed him quizzically, noting how proud of himself he looked for reading your favourite book, but also noticing an unusual lack of self-assurance glimmering through his expression.

“I would ask if you mean this trig stuff for Mr Elton,” you gestured down to the homework you’d been painfully poring over for the past hour, “But I know you too well to expect you to actually do your homework, so what are you talking about?”

He didn’t mention that the real reason he never studied in your trig study sessions was because he was more often than not too busy staring at you and coming up with things to say to make you laugh.

Jess raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and cleared his throat to do a godawful impression of you, “Oh Jess, I can’t believe you’ve never read it. My favourite novel in the whole world and you’ve never read it!”

You scoffed, “If that was supposed to be me, get out of here.”

“Please, like you really want to get rid of me,” he teased, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you, “Then you’d be miserable and heartbroken and, even worse, have to actually finish your trig homework. Besides, I enjoyed it.”

Your eyes brightened up at this, and you could tell he noticed, “Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. Your taste isn’t that bad… I mean, you hang out with me don’t you?”

“For some reason, yes,” you pretended to grumble, feigning ignorance of the butterflies in your stomach at his usual smug smile, “But you really liked it?”

He sat down in the seat opposite you now, pulling the book from his bag and slamming it down in front of you, “Well, I have notes of course.”

You rolled your eyes, at which he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, it wasn’t terrible. I did say I enjoyed it… Some of the notes are nice.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“You wound me,” Jess feigned a pout, “Romance isn’t usually my genre and you know that.”

“Of course. Hemingway fanboy is too cool for my sappy romantic books, huh,” you joked, heart still racing wildly at the notion he’d even started reading it, let alone finished it.

“Pfft. Austen fangirl should be less rude and give more Hemingway a try, I say,” he quipped back, tongue in cheek.

“Hey, I like Hemingway,” you shook your head, “I just don’t go to bed and jerk off over how great I think he is like you so obviously do.”

He shook his head and pulled a face that faked shock, “And how much time in the day, on average, would you say you spend thinking about what I jerk off over, huh?”

“You are such an ass,” you tutted, swatting his arm, “Approximately none, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Anyway, if you’re done being gross, let’s get back to the important thing here. You read my book,” You reached to pull the book towards you, only for him to snatch it back and rest his elbows on it.

You furrowed your brows at him, “What’ve you got to hide in there?”

His eyes narrowed, his lip between his teeth now as though he was thinking hard about something.

“C’mon, Mariano,” you leaned forward, “I assumed that since you brought the book with you, I’d get to see at least some of your notes.”

His fingers were picking at the edges of the book’s cloth sleeve, his toes drumming on the floor anxiously like they’d recently begun to do more often when he was around you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, “Look. I’m going to give you this, and then I’m gonna leave the diner, alright? And then, and only then, you can open this book up, and you can read what’s in there. And if you never see me again it’s ’cause I’ve died of embarrassment or something. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes, chin on your palm.

He slid the book in your direction now as you watched him swallow thickly and cocked your head to the side like a curious puppy, “Ever so cryptic, aren’t you?”

“You’ll figure it out, Miss Marple.”

With that, he rose to his feet and darted out of the diner before you could even say another word.

You briefly made eye contact with Luke behind the counter, who watched you carefully for a moment before looking down at the book now carefully clutched between your fingers.

You wasted no time then, pulling open the book and desperately skimming for whatever the hell he was talking about.

You weren’t sure what on earth you expected to find when you flicked through its pages, but it most certainly wasn’t a plethora of sticky tabs with scrawled notes on about how the protagonist reminded him of you.

You expected even less, then, to find a note in Jess’ handwriting at the very back of the book declaring that he realised halfway through — when the two love interests whose relationship bore a crazy resemblance to your own, realised that they were in fact in love — that he’d been stupid to deny that he even liked you, let alone that he’d quite obviously fallen stupidly in love with you.

Shock coursed through you, your heart racing at the uncharacteristically romantic and yet somehow still so incredibly Jess gesture.

You stood up, almost knocking over your chair as you placed the book under your arm and turned to leave, “I’ll be back—uh, soon.”

Luke nodded, “Go get him kiddo.”

You smiled, butterflies whirling in your stomach as you left the diner almost as quickly as Jess had just minutes ago.

You knew exactly where you’d find him — perched on the bridge swinging his feet and letting his mind convince him you wouldn’t in a million years feel the same.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching, you saw him clench his eyes shut as if in hope that he was imagining you and that you’d soon disappear.

“You can’t confess your love for me and then run away, Jess,” you bit your lip as you teased him softly, “It’s not fair not to give me a chance to say it back properly. You do get bonus points for how much of a romance novel cliché that move is, though.”

He sighed, a deep heavy sigh of relief, and it was as though suddenly he reverted to his usual self, “Technically the book confessed my love for you, actually. And the window for reciprocating hasn’t quite closed yet. I’m all ears, pretty girl.”

You loved this.

You loved how easy things always were for you with Jess.

Everything that went unspoken still never went unsaid — sure, you’d been flirtatious friends for a while now, uncertain of quite how seriously he reciprocated your feelings, but deep down you always sort of knew.

You loved that ever since he’d come to Stars Hollow, he’d shown that he cared in his own silly little ways.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

You sat down at his side, still clutching the book tightly as he finally looked across at you with a small smile.

“You’re such a romantic, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you,” you nudged his side teasingly, “But I— Jess I do love you, and I’ve probably loved you for a long time even though I didn’t want to let myself admit it.”

“Wow, okay Mr Darcy… Wait ‘til Luke hears that the real reason you’ve only just told me that is because you think he’s embarrassing,” he mocked, but you felt him shuffle closer, “I’ve definitely loved you for longer than I thought I had too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Much better, Miss Bennet,” you laughed, linking your arms and leaning against his shoulder as he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

You felt Jess’ chest rise and fall as you closed your eyes and let the sound of the stream beneath you wash over you.

“So, like, I don’t know the protocol with the whole ‘best friends to lovers’ trope like you do, so you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Jess chuckled.

You sat back up to look at him whilst still keeping hold of his arm, “Hmm, I think what’s meant to happen next is you kiss me and ask to take me on a real date. Pretty sure that’s right.”

“Right, everyone’s favourite cliche moment,” Jess rolled his eyes jokingly but cupped your face with his palms, “God, what have you done to me?”

“You looove me,” your response was muffled as he pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, at first gently and then with a touch more urgency.

When you pulled away, he let go of your face and smiled softly, “So about that date?”

“You got it, Mariano,” you grinned, kissing him quickly once more as you paused, “But you’re going to have a tough time doing anything as romantic as annotating my favourite book and writing me a love note, you know.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’ve got plenty more where that came from, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you giggled, leaning back into his side.

“Just you wait and see.”

———

ok so i kinda lost my way with this a bit eventually and i’m sorry it’s quite short but i had sooooo much fun writing it. i love jess so fucking much and i’m so grateful for all the jess requests i get — trying v hard to work through them asap because it’s so fun.

thanks for reading! here’s my masterlist for more <3

[crazy-only]

the grid meeting your parents ! (fluff)

pairing: f1driver (hamilton, norris, piastri, russell, tsunoda, verstappen) x reader

premise: how six f1 drivers would interact with your parents ! (fluff, fluff, fluff, and more fluff)

preface: YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET AHHHH like seriously i don’t understand how im getting this much love just writing my horny/love-deprived thoughts but nonetheless i’m close to tears ╥﹏╥ thank you !! anyways who should i write for next ? a pt. 2 with the other drivers ? enjoy <3

hamilton

babe would be experienced with this, know all the right things to say, and when to just nod and pretend like he agrees with your parents. even though he’s been through the same motions of ‘meeting the parents’ a few times before, he knows you’re the right one for him, so lewis will take this opportunity seriously.

that means bringing bags of designer clothes, perhaps a watch for the dad, and, of course, an expensive bottle of wine (he still hasn’t disclosed the price to you (｡ŏ_ŏ)). your boy’s classy and will match his attire to yours. and maybe get your mom to crush a bit on your mans as well. but don’t worry, boy is loyal!

✦✦✦✦

norris

aww i think bby acts confident about these sorts of things in front of friends, but when it’s just the two of you, he shrivels in your lap, anxious at the mere thought of meeting your parents.

he doesn’t want it to go wrong! he needs you for the rest of his life, so he spends days before the actual event asking you what your parents’ interests are, things they would ask on the big day—lando panics big time. and on the day he actually meets the parents, he realizes it was all worth it, because now he can spend the rest of his life with you! (*ˇωˇ*)

✦✦✦✦

piastri

okay this boy knows his personality is special. he knows he can’t exactly be as straightforward as he would prefer to be because there’s a big chance your parents would take it the wrong way. so, as he gauges your parents’ tolerances to sarcasm, jokes, etc., he grows more confident. at first, baby will be quiet, but with time you’ll be dragging oscar away from your parents just because they can’t stop talking so much!

✦✦✦✦

russell

similar to hamilton, this man is ✧classy✧ and makes sure it seems that way. whether it’s a casual dinner or a barbecue, george dresses up in a suit, all pretty, because he wants your parents to know he’s serious! don’t take him wrong though, he’s not afraid to get on his knees to help your parents out. sink is broken? baby is inside the cabinet fixing the faucet as we speak. need more charcoal? he’s already gone back to the gas station to pick a bag up (he’s an f1 driver, i mean what’d you expect?). and don’t worry about if your parents approved of him or not, he’s got ‘em asking when he’s coming back!

✦✦✦✦

tsunoda

aw yuki would be so shy meeting your parents. his relationship with them would be more sweet than anything. less chatting, more jokes! if he burnt the dinner he was supposed to cook for your parents (low chances, but bear with me), yuki would be close to tears. he takes it very seriously!

thankfully your family would laugh it off, and yuki would start laughing as well. if the power went out, jokes would float around the dark room and your parents would see how much he cares about you as he grabs blankets and tea for you. (≧﹏ ≦)

✦✦✦✦

verstappen

baby could simply care less about your parents. all he wants at the end of the day is to be with you. his heart only wants you! how can you blame him? ( > < ) for this reason he tolerates your parents. if they happen to be nice, then he’ll get along great! if they’re not his style, he’ll still pretend like they saved his cats from a near-death experience (eating the wrong cat food).

as long as he has you, max can meet a hundred sets of rude parents and still be happy. <3

[luvrgreyy]

A PERFECTLY RUINED THING

boyfriend's brother!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.1k summary: leon's attempts to comfort you after a fight with his older brother. masterlist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. infidelity, one mention of masturbation, age gap(leon is 21, reader is 25), non-con kissing, car sex, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral(r!receiving), praise, soft dom leon.

a/n: not my best work, but alright. this was meant to be a short, self indulgent fic, i dont know how i ended up writing this much. anyway, here's something to keep you guys occupied while i work on a new series im writing :3

leon has always had a thing for you. ever since you started dating his brother a few years ago, he’d always found you attractive. he’s tried to get over you, date other girls, but that doesn’t really seem to work.

his brother was a moron, and he was sure you deserved better. not that leon considered himself any better. it’s wrong, it’s messed up in every possible way, which is why he could never tell his brother how he truly feels.

family is important, and leon wouldn't do anything to risk losing his brother's respect.

but being around you, watching you, it's all too much sometimes. he would often find himself fantasizing about you while jerking off to porn, imagining it was him instead of his brother making out with you, touching you, fucking you.

it used to bother him a lot, feeling like this for someone who was technically off-limits. but lately, with his brother spending lesser time around the house, leon had started to brush off those guilty feelings.

and he began to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could have you for himself one day. the fantasies were harmless, he told himself, as long as they remained just that — fantasies.

leon shakes his head and comes out of his thoughts with a start. he couldn't make out all the words, but he could tell you and his brother were fighting. nothing new there.

he knows he shouldn't care, that it's none of his business, but he can't help but wonder what his brother had said to make you so upset. was he flirting with some girl? did he forget your birthday again? had you finally broken up with him? he felt bad for being somewhat happy at the thought.

until he hears the door slam. he blinks and looks up, listening as the sound echoes through the house. well, so much for staying out of it.

he’s about to get up when he hears your footsteps, and soon you stomp into the living room, face flushed with anger.

"hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, looking up at you from his place on the couch. you stopped pacing and turn to face him, eyes brimming with tears. "your stupid brothers what’s wrong,”

he can't help it, his jaw twitches at the mention of his brother, but he manages to keep a neutral look otherwise. “what did he do this time?" he asks quietly, standing up. you bite your lip and look away, struggling to find the words.

"i don't know," you finally reply. "he's just— he’s being difficult,” he wants to hug you, to comfort you, but he's hesitant to do so. you’ve just never been that close, so he just stands there awkwardly as you try to speak through the tears.

“i-i’ve tired talking to him, but he never listens. i don’t know what i did, but i know there's something wrong,”

“i’m sorry about him,” it's stupid, he knows his brother is terrible to you, but he couldn't stop myself from making a dig. “but you know you can talk to me, right?”

“i know,” you choke out a sob. “but— i just wanna go home, leon.”

it kills him to see you like this, especially since he knows it's his brother's fault. but he wants you to stay. he doesn't say it, but he hopes, silently, that you'll stay with him instead. “yeah, okay,” he agrees, forcing a smile. “i can do that, i can take you home.” he reaches out and gently wipes away your tears, thumb lingering on your cheek.

“thank you,” you sniff and nod, reaching up to brush his hand away. he lets it linger a moment longer, before reluctantly pulling back.

he knows he should tell you it will all work out, that his brother loves you and that things will be fine... but he can't. because then he'd be lying.

the ride to your house is quiet. he wants to say something, anything, but it seems wrong to talk about anything lighthearted.

when he pulls up to your house, he parks and turns to you. you're staring out the window, silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

"hey," he asks softly. "you okay?"

you look at him then, really look at him, and for a moment, he thinks he sees something in your eyes — a flicker of... something. he doesn't know what it is, and he doesn't bother trying to find out when you reach out for his hand.

he freezes. it's a small point of contact, one he's not ready for.

he tries not to tremble as you hold his hand, but you're so close to him and he can't make himself pull away, so he does the only thing he can think to do — pretend nothing is wrong and and just sit there, praying you don't notice how his breath catches in his throat. praying you can't feel how hard he is.

you just want comfort, he tells himself. don't be weird.

he looks down at your fingers, how small they looked, your soft skin, the way your nails dig lightly into his skin.

"leon?" your voice comes out a small squeak.

"yeah?"

he tries to say something else, but its no use. all he can think about is how close your hand is to his dick. how easy it would be to move it a few inches and have you cupping him. he doesn't do that, of course. that would be messed up. but the thought alone is making him rock hard.

god, he feels like a fucking pervert, crossing his legs to try and hide his boner. you look at him with those big, beautiful eyes, and he nearly melts. he wants nothing more than to kiss you right then and there. but he can't. can he?

"i— uh, thank you."

you withdraw your hand, and the relief he feels is short-lived, because he watches you reach out for the door. he doesn't want you to go. not yet, anyway. "wait," he says, and you pause.

before he can stop himself, his mouth is on yours. it's just a small, chaste kiss, but it's still a massive step. what the hell is wrong with him? you're his brother's girlfriend for fucks sake! but you don't pull away, and he can't bring himself to do the same.

for a moment, he thinks you kiss him back. just for a second. it's hard to tell, since it's so quick, but he could swear he feels your lips moving with his. he pulls back, breathless, eyes wide.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers, knowing it's not enough, but not knowing what else to say. so he just sits there, staring at you, trying not to panic.

he can't think straight. all he can focus on is your lips, how soft they were, the way they moved with his. it was a real kiss. a tentative one, yes, but real. his mind is spinning. what does this mean? does it even mean anything at all? or was it just a momentary lapse in judgment? he knows he shouldn't have done it. he should've let you go, let you walk out of his life for good. but looking at you now, he realizes he'd do it all over again, whatever the consequences are.

this makes him bold. reckless. and he moves in for another kiss, hand cupping your cheek. this time, there's no mistake — you pull him closer, your tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. he can taste you on his lips, like really taste you. it’s incredible.

one hand moves down your side, to rest on your hip. the other cradles your head, fingers threaded through your hair. he pours all his emotion into the kiss — the frustration, the longing, the love he's kept hidden for so long. you taste like toothpaste and happiness, and it's the best thing he's ever experienced.

this goes on for a long time. like, a really long time. long enough that he starts to feel guilty, like he's taking advantage of you or something. but you don't seem to mind. you kiss him back, enthusiastically, and he swallows the small noises you make in your throat.

the kiss finally breaks, and you're panting. he is too. your lips are swollen and glossy, hands on his chest, pushing him away, but only slightly.

he doesn't care anymore. he's past the point of return. "i want you," he whispers, trying to memorize the feel of you. "i want you so bad. please," he begs, the plea raw in his voice. "i'll make it good for you, i promise.”

“leon,” you breathe out his name again. “this.. this isn’t right,”

he knows you’re right. of course you are. but he can't help himself. his desire drowns out whatever sense and reasoning he may still have. you're his brother's girlfriend. it's wrong, it's messed up, it's... “it doesn't feel wrong," he argues softly, thumb brushing against your flushed cheek. "does it?" you don't answer, just shake your head.

next thing he knows, his hand is sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt up with it. he feels a scrap of fabric and the smooth skin it's covering. he stops, hovering just at the edge of decency.

“tell me to stop,” his lips hover just above yours. “tell me to stop, and i will.”

he waits. and waits. and waits. but no words come. you're quiet, neither denying nor confirming, and that's enough for him to take it as a yes. his hand continues up, past your knee, brushing the edge of your panties. he can feel the heat emanating from you, how your body is screaming at him to continue. to keep going. to take what he wants.

and he does. one finger, then two, slip in to push your panties to the side, and he's rewarded with a small gasp.

he shifts his fingers higher, seeking out your clit. he finds it, and rubs gently. you buck, just a little, and he freezes.

"this okay?" he looks at your face, searching for any sign that he should stop.

a tiny nod, almost imperceptible. "yeah," your voice is breathy. "yeah, leon." you grab his wrist, stopping him from retreating. "don't stop." he doesn't.

he goes back to rubbing your clit, fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. one finger slips down to test your entrance. he pushes it inside, just the tip, and you tense. he groans in triumph at the feel of your slick walls, taking it as a sign to pushes further, sinking his finger knuckle deep into your pussy. you mewl, and he nearly comes in his pants.

your hips start to move, trying to fuck his hand, and he's happy to oblige. he adds another finger, hand practically punching into your dripping cunt. you're so wet and tight, so perfect for him.

“get in the back," he hisses through his teeth. "wanna have a taste.”

he doesn’t give you time, roughly shoving you into the backseat, and plopping himself down in a position where you straddle his face while his hands push your thighs apart.

he kneels down, and trails a finger up your inner thigh, finding your panties damp with arousal. he hooks his fingers in the elastic and drags them down, letting your soaked cunt be exposed to the air. he buries his face in your pussy, fingers spreading you apart. "fuck, you smell good," he groans, before closing his lips around your clit and sucking, tongue darting out to lick your juices.

you let out a startled yelp at the suddenness of it all, but he doesn't care. he's too busy breathing in your scent, licking and sucking at your little pussy, fingers digging into your hips as he pushes his tongue as far as it will go. he eats you like you're the last morsel of food on earth, desperate and ravenous.

your juices flood his mouth as he sucks and licks, fucking you with his hand while his mouth eats your pussy. he growls in the back of his throat, loving how you taste. he pulls away for a second, just long enough to yank your panties the rest of the way off, before diving back in. he can hear you whimper and moan, the sounds music to his ears.

the car lurches, and his face is buried in your pussy. he looks up, surprised, as you suddenly buck against him. but he recovers quickly, one hand reaching out to grab your wrist and pull you back down to his mouth, the other hand keeping the first two fingers of his other hand knuckle-deep in your pussy, pumping them slowly.

"i got you," he mouths around your clit, and continues eating you with renewed vigor, as if trying to prove a point. his tongue is fast, slick, and decisive, and he knows it's coming.

"tell me when," he mumbles, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

he feels it. the way you go slack, how your muscles tremble and contract. he's already sucking hard on your clit, lips vacuuming up your little bundle of nerves, trying to suck your orgasm straight into his mouth.

“imma cum, leon, i’m—“ you start, but the words die down in your throat.

your entire body bows back, throat making a sound like a scream that tappers out. he drinks it all in, every single drop of your release coating his lips, tongue, and it dribbles down to his chin.

he pulls back, sitting back on his heels, hands pushing your knees together to keep you from tipping over.

"c'mere," he coos. gently pushing you back onto the car seat, he slots himself between your legs. his cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, and with a curse, he undoes them, freeing his shaft.

he helps you get in position, hands shaking slightly as he lines himself up with your entrance. he's hard, veins bulging along the shaft, the tip leaking precum.

“can i?”

you nod. just once, and it's enough. his hips buck forward, slow and steady, feeling you stretch around him, the intrusion making you wince.

"sorry," he whispers, before pulling back slightly. "’ts okay," you hum in response.

your walls resist, then give, slowly swallowing up his length. but he doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt, hips flush with yours "god, you're tight,” he looks down, watches himself disappear into you, and it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

he takes his time, letting you adjust, letting yourself get used to the feeling of him inside you when he starts to move, it's a slow thrust, pulling back almost all the way, then pushing back in, creating a slow rhythm.

he's patient, letting the rhythm build, in and out, in and out, feeling your walls relax around him more and more with each thrust.

his hips rise up, his abs flexing as he pulls back, then lower, feeling you swallow him up again.

"feels so good," he admits, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

his hands land on your hips, fingers digging in, holding you in place as he fucks you, slow and deep, with a pace that's almost lazy.

“leon,” your voice is soft, almost dreamy. “leon,” you repeat his name like a prayer.

“i’m—”

“i know,” he huffs against your lips, feeling his balls drawing up.

your nails rake down his chest. “i’m gonna—“ “cum.” he groans, hips bucking harder, trying to draw it out. your pussy spasms, milking him for all he's worth, and he's powerless to stop it.

he's coming all over your insides. your walls suck him dry, and he slumps forward, forehead pressed against your shoulder, chest heaving.

your hand threads through his hair, holding his head still against your shoulder. he nuzzles into the touch, feeling your warmth, your softness. he's spent. emotionally and physically.

he pulls out slowly, cock slipping free, and a pearly rope of cum dribbles out. he grabs a napkin from the glovebox, and gently wipes your lips clean. he looks over at you, taking in your mussed hair, your flushed cheeks, your half-lidded eyes. you look relaxed. content.

"you alright?" he asks softly.

“mhm,”

he smiles, small and shy. like he didn’t just fuck your brains out. “good.”

he tucks himself back into his pants, zipping up. it takes a bit of effort to extricate himself from the wreckage of the backseat. he turns to you, and just looks. you straighten out your clothes, carefully smoothing down the fabric of your rumpled shirt. he watches as you adjust your skirt, his gaze soft yet intense.

“well, uh,” you pull back, eyes meeting, and you swallow hard. “i should probably go..”

“oh, yeah, of course," he pauses, then adds. “i’ll walk you to your door.”

you climb out of the car, and he follows. the cool night air feels strange on your skin, and it makes your skin shiver. he walks you to your front door, hands shoved deep in his pockets. the walk is silent, but not uncomfortable. you stop at your front door, and you turn to him.

“thank you,” you say softly. “for tonight.” he smiles. and you smile back. and for a second, he thinks of kissing you again. but he doesn't.

"night," he turns to leave, but pauses. "i hope this is the last time i see you.”

as you watch him go, your heart feels full. and weird. you can't stop smiling, even as you go inside and lock the door behind you. you walk to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. your hair is a mess. your face is flushed.

i guess now you know who the better kennedy is.

[redr0sewrites]

Could you please do fluffy Lucifer head cannons! (I love your Hazbin hotel hcs💗)

🥀A/n: YESSSS OFC!! i love luciii hes so cute

🥀Cw: none, just fluff!!!

lucifer is a very touchy person in general, and when it comes to his partner, he just ADORES giving and receiving affection from you. he always wants to be touching you in one way or another, but he always makes sure to ask beforehand.

he rubs your thumb when you both hold hands!!!! he also seems like the type to gently swing his arm when you both are holding hands and walking side by side, he's just giddy about getting to spend time with you!!!

lucifer loves showing you off. he's definitely bringing you to every event that he attends, and is proudly stating that you're his partner at any given opportunity

MATCHING COUPLES ITEMS!!!! ive said it before and i'll say it again, lucifer is the type to ADORE matching couples outfits, jewelry, mugs, literally anything! u guys have SOOO much matching stuff simply because he adores it

loves sitting in your lap. there is no place in the world more comfortable for lucifer than in your arms, and he just loves being able to cuddle with you in your lap. he MELTS whenever you touch his hair, and is overall very touchy

if your taller than him, he ADORES hugs from behind!!! he loves when you rest your chin atop his head, and won't even mind some light teasing about his height.

loves tickles!!!! sometimes he'll wake you up with tickles or kisses across your face, just so he can hear your laughter

lucifer can't fall asleep without touching you in some way! if you aren't a very cuddly person while you sleep, that's ok, but he still asks to link pinkies while sleeping just so he knows you're there. if you are a fan of cuddles, prepare to be clung to!!

he would adore it if you got along with charlie, and definitely persists at trying to get you two to hangout. he loves the idea of the three of you being a family and doing family things together, and charlie is just happy to finally see him happy, so she's very grateful towards you

lucifer is a RAMBLER, he loves talking about his special interests and cares a lot if you listen to him and act interested too! you definitely learn a lot of duck facts from him, along with anything else that's interesting that he's picked up over the years

FLIRTY!!!!!!! he's sooooo cheesy, and definitely uses the cringiest pickup lines. sometimes he does it to be funny, and sometimes he does it to be serious. he also has a BUNCH of nicknames and petnames for you, and some are satire while others are more genuine

to name a few of the satire one, he'd probably say duckie, pookie, and prince/princess (ironically tho). unironically i think he'd call you dear or "my dearest", darling, and honey as well. he isn't afraid to call you pet names in public, he honestly refers to you more as "dear" than your actual name! i also think lucifer would make up nicknames based on your name specifically. you could have a 3 letter name and he'd still somehow shorten it. definitely gives you nicknames related to your name, say for example your name is rose, he's absolutely the type to call you "rosie posie" instead of just rose

writes you little notes throughout the day and sends them to you magically :) he also buys you practically anything you want, he is rich after all

overall he's very affectionate, and he could never pick a love language when it comes to giving. he just has so much love to give, and he makes sure you're spoiled with affection!!!!!!!!

ack sorry this is so short i promise im still trying 😭 school and family *cough* mom *cough* stuff has been lowkey kicking my ass but ive been SO motivated to write it's actually insane so im trying to power through my 100+ hazbin hotel requests even though ive lowkey moved on- i still enjoy the fandom, but i just need a break yk? ANYWAYS!!!! FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS, ESPECIALLYYYYYY ARCANE, TDP, OR ACOTAR REQUESTS!!!!!

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 “Past is Past right?” [ ← Previous | Next → ]

—

Yuji would be sitting on his couch watching a movie clearly more focused on it rather than the knocks on the door..

It's been exactly 5 minutes before Yuji finally noticed..he'd get up and make his way towards the door, as he opened it he was greeted with 3 familiar figures, gojo, nanami and yuki

"hii!! Do you guys need something?"

He'd say before welcoming the 3 of them with a smile as they sat on the couch with Yuji making his way and taking a seat in the middle,

Before he knew it all eyes were on him

"Soooo yuji im pretty sure you know what's going on with y/n and Sukuna right??"

Gojo would ask with Yuki following along

"and we were wondering if you could tell us what's going on with them"

"nuh uh I'm not telling, sukuna threatened me not to tell anyone.."

"awhhh cmonn If you tell us I'll help set you up with anyone you want"

Before gojo would finish, nanami would step in

"enough you two."

Both gojo and yuki would scoff and just stayed silent,

"as gojo said Yuji, we want to know more about sukunas and y/n's relationship, if that's fine with you of course,"

"..."

"honestly..if I'm being honest I've been DYING. to tell somebody!"

The 3 of them look at each other before looking back at Yuji, paying close attention to whatever he has to say

"basically!"

"sukuna and y/n known each other since elementary I think?..but anyways! Sukuna told me he liked her ever since they started talking apparently his reasoning is because she was kind and friendly to him while everyone else was scared of him"

"and then during third year highschool I think..? Sukuna and her grew closer, he was even planning on confessing after so long, so he planned it all out, getting her favorite flowers and putting it in her locker and even made a cute little note telling her to meet him somewhere, but he never said his name anddd he probably should've.. because when he got there"

"he saw y/n and some other guy and what's next made him absolutely furious, guess what.. he saw them kissed?! And then boom he dropped the gift he got for her and left, then apparently the next day y/n told him all about it, turns out the guy she kissed pretended he got her the flowers and gave the letter when in reality it was sukuna who gave it"

"and from then on sukuna was pissed that she believed it from that point on he started avoiding y/n and she probably thought he hated her for no absolute reason, and hear this..just a few months into y/n and that guys relationship the guy cheated on her, so like apparently sukuna saw her crying he really wanted to comfort her and confess that it was him who got her the flowers and the letter, but of course sukunas stubborn, instead he just scoffed and left"

"and apparently again y/n saw him and thought he was making fun of her from that point on they couldn't stand each other!"

"anyways that's it!"

When he finished he saw how shocked they looked

"SO YOUR TELLING ME THEY COULDVE BEEN IN A HAPPY RELATIONSHIP BY NOW IF IT WEREN'T FOR SOME MISUNDERSTANDING?!"

Yuki would yell out

"uh...yes...?"

With that all three of them thanked Yuji before stepping out the house

—

—

Y/n would sit down next to sukuna while there professor was sat from the opposite side of the table,

"I'm glad both of you made it!"

"if your wondering why I called you two here..I checked the project I assigned you both and uhm.."

"it was something for sure..but, you two got the lowest grade out of everyone, and I don't want any of my students failing so I'm giving you two a chance to do better alright?"

"you'll be assigned to a much different project and please do better.."

"if you don't mind me asking, what exactly was wrong with our work?"

"the collage you made was just a bunch of mushed up pictures..."

"this time for your project, the two of you will write daily essays of what you two feel about each other, and for this to work the two of you would need to spend time with each other constantly"

"and If you're gonna wonder why I'm making you do this, it is because the two of you keep bickering with one another..so see this project as something to help you to get along!"

"oh and one more thing, you two can't see each other's essays, both of you will only read them once it's due, and the two of you have exactly one month to do this"

After both sukuna and y/n was out of the classroom they both looked at each other

"this is all your fault."

You'd say as you turned to go face him

"yeah yeah keep yapping, but are we not gonna question what we were assigned to do?"

"oh right..can't we just I don't know fake it?? I don't wanna spend one month with you."

"I'm not that bad, your just being dramatic"

"your whole personality makes me rip my hair off I don't know how Uraume deals with you"

"I don't know how your friends deal with you either, I should ask them to blink twice if they need help, i bet you held them at gun point for them to be friends with you"

"haha very funny."

"anyways, the sooner we do it the faster, where do you wanna meet up?"

"don't know and don't really care either"

"oh alright so your fine with going with me to an Abandon place?"

"and get murdered by you? No thx."

"kidding, we could go to a cafe If you want, I'll pick you up after your classes"

—

—

@-! Likes & Reblogs Are Appreciated ^^

A/N: be honest guys do they act like enemies or just friends who can't stand each other☹️

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud (comment to be added/removed)

[letsmyy]

i have a request!!! you should write a daughter of apollo x leo valdez fic but based on espresso by sabrina carpenter (idk i feel like that song gives children of apollo vibes!) it'd be leo obsessed with the apollo girl (like him being absolutely obsessed with her, having the biggest crush on her possible, he constantly thinks about her, him being an absolute loser bf) and finally getting the courage to ask her out on a date or something like that.

“she’s like a shot of espresso…”

leo valdez x duaghter of apollo!reader

warnings: use of yn! english isn’t my first language so it might be some errors!!

thank you so much for your request, it made me so happy!! idk if what i wrote it’s exactly what you want but i hope you like it 🤕 this is my first timing writing a real fic and I think it really shows lol, but i promise I’ll try to improve in the next one, I’m so sorry if it’s that bad, and this is really short too? omg im really bad at this lol, but anyways, ly anon tell me your opinions (honestly) abt this later, kisses to uuu!! 🫶💗 (btw anon, please request other things I feel like I didn’t did you justice with this one)

words: 850

“is it that sweet? I guess so…..”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ - ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Leo was sure he was going crazy.

He always had a pretty big amount of silly crushes on girls, but with you? It was getting way too serious. Of course, you're beautiful, incredibly kind, and too generous for your own good, and you treated him well, but that isn't enough reason to make him lose sleep; at least that's what he thought.

And he was extremely wrong. Being in your presence was the equivalent of being bathed in the sunlight, and gods, he felt like a prisoner who hadn't seen the sun in years.

He's completely obsessed with you; he just needs the courage to verbalize that, but being honest, Leo felt like a coward at the moment.

While being lost in his thoughts (the thoughts being the pretty daughter of Apollo that never leaves his mind), the boy finally falls asleep.

Leo doesn't mind waking up if that means spending the day with the people he loves, so after getting ready for the day, he searches for you.

And he found you, talking with a much younger camper, helping him. You're smiling like it's the best day of your life, and Leo could swear that you're almost glowing.

The boy makes its way to you the same moment you finish talking to the kid, now having your full attention on Hephaestus' son.

"Leo! Good morning!" Your voice to him had the same effect as listening to his favorite music, it made him happy in ways he couldn't explain, even if his life depended on it. 

"Yn! Good morning!" He mimics you, not in a bad way, just a teasing one. You roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

"Sooo, did you sleep well, Valdez?" You ask, seeming really interested in the answer, but he knows that you're like that for everything, being extremely kind.

"Not really, would be better if I dreamed about you," you laugh amusingly.

"You say that every day, y'know?"

"I know, I say because it's true. " You can't help but blush a little. You're used to Leo flirting with you, but it never gets past that, so you just learned to joke back.

"Hilarious, Valdez... fortunately, I slept very well today, and I'm more excited than normal! I think it's because it's so sunny today, that's awesome, was thinking about going to the lake later. I can't waste such a pretty day like this one painting inside my cabin..."

"Unfortunately, I'll be in the bunker today, I have lots of things to do."

"What? No! You're coming with me, you can't waste this wonderful day either!" You grab his hands, walking toward the lake.

Leo could swear he would pass out at that moment. He couldn't even think about denying your offer, he would prefer dying to doing that.

After a few seconds, you guys get to the lake.

"Look how pretty it is! You have to go swimming with me, it’s a need.”

"Look, sunshine, water and fire don't get along so well, so I might skip that one" he says, apologetic. You frown, thinking.

"We don't need to go swimming, we can just talk, i really don't care." You smile lovingly at him.

"I don't want to ruin your day! There are many people that can go with you, you'll find someone better to do that." He's so oblivious that it's getting concerning.

"I want to spend time with you, Valdez. I don't mind if it's swimming or just talking, I want to, you know..be with you."

"Oh." He's acting like a loser, he can't think straight anymore and is blushing like crazy, but who cares?

"Oh?" You tease him, smiling.

"Yeah, we can. Just talk, I'm happy with that. " His smile was so genuine that made your heart melt.

That's when you realize you're still holding his hand, and you don't want to change that. You can feel he notices too.

Something just snapped in his head, now it’s the time, now or never, right?

"Yn? Can I tell you something?" He says it in a quiet tone, and you just nod.

"When I'm around you, it's like constantly drinking a shot of espresso, it's like being bathed in sunlight, you're incredibly energetic and enthusiastic, and i just can't get enough of you, you're my sunrise and daylight....all I'm saying is, gods, I very much love you more than just friends" You're surprised, really surprised, so surprised that you can't even speak for a moment, which just makes Leo even more nervous.

"Please say something...like, anything, a no it's better than silence because it’s less-“ Before he yaps again, you interrupt him:

"I like you too." The boy almost squeals of pure excitement.

"Seriously? Oh gods, oh gods. What?" He's so happy, it's so sincere, so soft, it's amazing, you can feel your heart beating so fast, and you don't even care; seeing him like this because of you is the best feeling you ever felt.

Then you see that one look, meant just for you, it's like time has frozen, and you're both thinking the same thing. Then, like all the stars aligned, you kissed him

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)

pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader

genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff

description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?

warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"

wordcount: 13.9k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy

You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly. 

You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.

You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart. 

You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed. 

Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate. 

You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean. 

You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy. 

The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles. 

You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped. 

You enter Mingyu’s room.

You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone. 

Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake. 

The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better. 

Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.

You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents. 

One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper. 

You take it.  _____________________________

“Hello?” 

Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.

“Are you there?” 

Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice. 

You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you. 

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 

“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?” 

“Hm?” 

There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.

“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?” 

You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth. 

“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side. 

You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry. 

“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice. 

There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again: 

“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?” 

You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.

“That’s good luck. So...”

A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart. 

“Good luck.”  _____________________________

“You’re awake!” 

It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior. 

“I can see you sitting at your desk.” 

Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.

It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”). 

The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up. 

“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh. 

“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”

“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!” 

“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.

“Oof.” 

“Hey!” 

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”

“Just a small decade.”

“I’m mature for my age.” 

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower. 

“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.” 

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown. 

“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.” 

You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.

“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio. 

The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers. 

“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”

“No, what the fuck.” 

“I got binoculars.” 

“Ew, you are a stalker!” 

“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.” 

“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.” 

“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.

“You’re so white,” you grinned. 

“I’m not even white!” 

You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line. 

Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor. 

“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.

“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.” 

“Sounds like you really know your stuff.” 

“Get off my ass, Fermata.” 

You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell. 

“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.” 

“Secure.”

“Shut up.” 

“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper. 

“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.” 

“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.” 

“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.” 

“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough. 

“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________

“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?” 

“BV?” 

“Bay Valley.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.” 

“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth. 

The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this). 

“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent. 

“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker. 

“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!” 

“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”

You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so. 

“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw. 

“You down yet, Queen B?”

You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.” 

You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds. 

“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves. 

“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed. 

“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.” 

“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.” 

“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.” 

You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower. 

The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths. 

You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.

“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again. 

“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed. 

“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.” 

“Okay, rude-” 

“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?” 

“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.” 

You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance. 

“Hey, uh, Y/n?” 

The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up. 

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.

“Oh, uh, sorry..” 

It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.

“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright. 

“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.” 

You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass. 

“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.” 

“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.” 

“Okay, good,” he mumbled. 

The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth. 

It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side. 

“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!” 

“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice. 

“Thank you!” 

You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4. 

The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.

There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note. 

Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white. 

It read: 

‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’

“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”

“Oh.”

There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” 

Silence. 

“No, not really.” 

“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?” 

Silence. 

“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.” 

“Oh.” 

Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket. 

“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind. 

Seungcheol didn’t respond. 

You left Eleison Valley alone.  _____________________________

This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out. 

You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had. 

Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.

A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it. 

You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu. 

Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth. 

“Seungcheol?” you gasped. 

When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears. 

There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you: 

“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight. 

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?” 

“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off. 

“... Are you crying?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance. 

“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?” 

Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark. 

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.

“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal. 

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?” 

“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.

“Can I tell you about birds?” 

He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…

Oh. You must’ve started dozing off.  _____________________________

You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself. 

You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds. 

It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights. 

You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed. 

This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh. 

“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.” 

This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion. 

Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor. 

“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound. 

“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay? 

“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.” 

“You work out every day?” 

“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted. 

You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.

This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-

“Are you- are you, like, buff?” 

The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry. 

“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?

The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease. 

You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts. 

“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles. 

“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”

Ugh. 

You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower. 

By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner. 

Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone. 

An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear. 

It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.

In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.

Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe. 

“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”

“Y/n?” 

You froze. 

Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren. 

The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.

“Y/n, are you okay?” 

You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled. 

In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer. 

There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?” 

This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!

“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…” 

Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?” 

You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.” 

Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?” 

You were not: “Yeah.” 

There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-

“You wanna know what I think you were doing?” 

Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting. 

“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.” 

Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?” 

“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing. 

“I thought you wouldn’t want-” 

“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable. 

“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again. 

“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back. 

“Yeah.” 

“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?” 

“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away. 

“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.” 

“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?” 

You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine. 

“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.” 

“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand. 

“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.” 

You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon. 

“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack. 

Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-” 

“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid. 

The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl. 

The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.

Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?

“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?” 

Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.

The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour. 

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’” 

“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile. 

“DID YOU CUM?” 

He sounded pretty when he laughed.  _____________________________

“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.” 

Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory. 

“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope. 

“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!” 

“I will,” you said, agitated. 

“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”

“I won’t,” you said, deflated. 

Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own. 

The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in. 

SWOOOOSH!

A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening. 

“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker. 

“Yeah, I’m right with them.” 

As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.

“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.

“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness. 

“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from. 

“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.” 

“We’ll take them back home-” 

“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less. 

“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy. 

“Good job, Fermata.” 

You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.” 

You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest. 

It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52. 

“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute. 

“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?” 

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.” 

“Damn it!” 

“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”

“Open that bad boy up.” 

You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather. 

The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows. 

Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag. 

As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought. 

You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it. 

It read: 

‘Hey Seungcheol,

If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.

From Jun.’

The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.

“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred. 

“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”

You put the letter away.  _____________________________

A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard. 

"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio. 

“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.” 

“Shit, I should make coffee.” 

“I’m way ahead of you.” 

The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle. 

“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.

“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.” 

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?” 

“Uhhhhh-” 

“I’m gonna check it out.” 

Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.

“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--” 

“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!” 

And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.

You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes. 

“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope. 

“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.” 

Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!” 

“Say yes, Y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”

“... I’ll take that, asshole.” 

Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards. 

Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface. 

KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!

You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling. 

It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek. 

The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-

Where was your radio? 

Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth. 

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 

“Hello? Seungcheol?” 

There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish. 

“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking. 

You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild. 

Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark. 

You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger. 

Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance. 

You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help. 

Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol. 

Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky. 

“Y/n!” 

You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.

“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!” 

“Y/n!”

You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.

“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood. 

It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion. 

“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same. 

You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.” 

His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?” 

“Bird watching is crazy, man.” 

He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?” 

“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”

“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.” 

Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).

Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go). 

“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed. 

It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed. 

There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.  

When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it. 

Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot. 

“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking. 

“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap. 

He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can you-?”

“Hm?”

“That little- little table over there-”

“What?”

“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea. 

“I should take a look at your back,” he said. 

“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.

You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.” 

“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it). 

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles. 

A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof. 

“Are you okay?” 

You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.” 

He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?” 

“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”

Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.” 

“I found another letter.”

Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?

“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily. 

Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you). 

“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.” 

You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour. 

“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.” 

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.” 

“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.” 

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back. 

“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.” 

“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”

“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips. 

You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten. 

“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.

“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?” 

You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.

“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too. 

Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”

You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.” 

He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.

“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt. 

“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin. 

Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met. 

“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face. 

Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.

“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?” 

It came out as more of a question than a statement. 

Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up. 

“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder. 

The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you. 

Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it. 

“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.” 

Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?” 

You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core. 

“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck. 

“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers. 

You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor. 

Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped. 

His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off. 

He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.

“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?” 

“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!” 

“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further. 

His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds. 

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly. 

“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned. 

“I need to-” 

“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly. 

“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-” 

“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.” 

My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance. 

“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands. 

And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb. 

“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you. 

“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response. 

Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over. 

There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock. 

“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.” 

The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way. 

“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-” 

“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.

“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.

Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?” 

“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick. 

Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you. 

Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.

You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.

“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”

Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.” 

“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you stay here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can your dick stay inside me?” 

This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back. 

“Sure, baby.” 

You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself. 

At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you. 

Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:

“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!” 

And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too. 

[nyoomfruits]

choscar anon again. okay so we choscar fans have definitely been reading the same fics bcs i love love looove no harsher than the bark. that fic is definitely a blueprint for choscar.

also do you think oscar would just be waiting in their!!! living room with a glass of water and charles's fav throw blanket to welcome charles home from all those late night events/parties with a side of extra warm cuddles? before he drags charles for a quick shower in which oscar washes his bf's hair and and and i need to shut up

no pressure but if you do write abt choscar, just know that i will be lurking on your ao3 account like the little starved gremlin that i am

IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP MYSELF I HAD TO WRITE IT

Oscar’s in the middle of his second mediocre action movie on Netflix, when the front door creaks open ever so quietly. He only hears because it’s directly followed by a loud thunk noise and someone softly cursing to themselves.

He smiles, shakes his head, pauses the movie and sits up a little straighter, right as Charles appears in the doorway of the living room. “You’re awake,” Charles says, face lighting up in that soft, quiet kind of way as he leans against the doorjamb.

His face is flushed, his hair tousled, the top buttons of his shirt are undone. It’s a pretty classic ‘Charles who just went clubbing’ look, though Oscar doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it. There’s a certain glow about him, a mischievous sparkle in his eye, a confident, relaxed slant to his posture. He looks the same when he wins a race.

Sometimes he thinks back to the early days, when he still thought that tight curling feeling he felt in his stomach when he looked at Charles on the top step of the podium, of him soaking in the roar of the crowd, head tipped back and smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was jealousy. When he thought he simply wanted what Charles had.

And he does. Of course he does. He wants podiums and wins and a World Driver Championship. But he also wants just Charles. Wants him when he’s like this, all glow-y and happy, but also when it’s been a long day and he’s tired, head tipping onto Oscar’s shoulder on the car way back to the hotel. Wants him when he’s sad, when he looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulder, when Oscar can do nothing but hold him and kiss the top of his head and tell him everything will be okay.

Wants early mornings of moving around the kitchen, Charles chattering at him excitedly and accepting the monosyllable answers Oscar gives in return, wants afternoons spend out on the waters around Monaco, sprawled out on Charles’s ridiculous super yacht, the sun too warm for them to cuddle but Charles insisting on it anyway. Wants hang outs with friends, where Charles is always the center of the universe, pulling everyone into his orbit, and yet Oscar is the center of his.

Wants quiet nights like these, where Charles might’ve gone to a party Oscar hadn’t felt up to, where their lives might have been separate for a bit, but he still comes home to Oscar.

“Was watching a movie,” Oscar says, with a shrug, which they both know means he’s been staying up, waiting for Charles to come home. “How was the party?”

“Fun,” Charles says. “You would have hated it.” He pushes off the doorjamb then, makes his way over to Oscar on the couch, slots in next to him easily, fits like a puzzle piece.

Oscar pulls him close, kisses him soft and sweet. “Yeah?”

“For sure,” Charles says, pillowing his head on Oscar’s chest. “There were shots and people were dancing.”

“The horrors,” Oscar jokes. He doesn’t hate clubbing, perse. But he doesn’t love it the way Charles does. Never quite knows what to do with his hands, always feels a bit awkward and off center. Never quite manages to command a room the way Charles does.

“Missed you, though,” Charles says, looks up at him with those big doe eyes of his.

Oscar smiles, soft and quiet. “Missed you too,” he says. “Now, come on, let’s go shower. You reek.”

He gently pushes Charles off of him, who squawks indignantly but lets himself be pushed towards the bedroom, towards the ensuite bathroom. Charles grumbles the whole way there, but Oscar knows he doesn’t mind. Especially not when Oscar gets into the shower with him, soaps up his hair and carefully rinses it out, presses Charles against the back of the shower for lazy, unhurried kisses that don’t really lead anywhere, before getting out of the shower again and quietly drying off.

It isn’t until they’re back in bed together, Oscar on his back, Charles on his side with his arm slung over Oscar’s chest, his face pressed into the space where Oscar’s shoulder meets his neck, that Charles speaks again. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” Oscar deadpans. It earns him a smack on his bicep.

“I’ve been thinking,” Charles repeats. “You have been staying here a lot.”

Oscar tenses. They haven’t really talked about. Whatever they are. Everything happened just sort of… naturally. They grew together so slowly, so organically, they hadn’t ever had to talk about it, really.

But Charles is right. Oscar can’t remember the last time he went to his own Monaco apartment, would probably have to dig around his bag for a good while to even find the key. And even tonight, when Charles wasn’t even here, Oscar still spend it on his couch, watching movies on his TV, instead of. Well. Just going home.

Had he been overstaying his welcome?

“Yeah,” he says, and desperately tries to keep the slight croak out of his voice.

“Right, so I was wondering. I mean, you totally don’t have to, we can just keep going the way we have but, if you wanted to, you could, well. Move in?”

Oscar breathes out. Feels the tension seep out of his body again. It’s like a weight has lifted off his chest, a weight he never even realized was there. The realization they’re both on the same page here, that they both want the same things. “Yeah,” he says, turns his head so his nose brushes against Charles’s. “Yeah, okay.”

Charles beams. It takes over his whole face, though it’s hard to see in the dim light of the bedroom. Their bedroom. Oscar can’t help the grin that spreads over his own face.

“Okay,” Charles says, nods, and then presses his lips to Oscar, softly, gently, like a promise. Like this is just the beginning of so much more. Like this is the start of forever.

[poppy-metal]

you get so excited when he writes back. you don’t tell your parents about him, because they never like the boys you bring home anyway, and there’s no need until you actually do bring him home. you’re quite surprised when he does reply, again another thing you didn’t think about, another display of your short sightedness.

hey

thanks for the letter. i don’t get many so yours made my day. you’re a very pretty girl. you know i’m bad don’t you? you shouldn’t be writing to a guy like me. but im happy you did. you said you think im beautiful. tell me more about what you think of me, and what you thought when you watched the trial. what did you think of that cunt of a judge? also, have you done this before? have you spoken to other killers? you have to tell me. i have to know. don’t speak to any others from now on. they might not be as friendly as i am.

yours truly

patrick zweig

aka the hamptons hatchet man xx

you kiss that letter a thousand times and sleep with it under your pillow. you spend hours crafting the perfect reply, while patrick spends his time hoarding his meds to drug guards, and begins stashing away any and all sharp objects he can get his degenerate paws on. anything to reach you before the loose men of the world do.

THE HAMPTONS HATCHET MAN..... stop because him using a hatchet.... swinging it over his head and bringing it down.... I like this visual, I'm seeing it. and thing is he mostly just killed bad people, people who pissed him the fuck off - alot of people feel sympathy for him, especially women. but most of them are cock hounds - they just want a taste of danger without actually knowing what it means. he's kind of disturbed by them. the desperation. he's definitely not the man to harp on about morals, but really?

but there's something about you - you're not horny, for one. you're kind of silly - sweet. you're not writing him because you want a "bad boy" to write you back, you saw something in him you relate to on a deeper level, you feel connected to him on an emotional level. you say you understand what it's like to feel helpless and alone and angry. you're the only girl he ever writes back.

his handwriting is shit - but something about it makes your heart full. the way the ink bleeds in places - the sharp aggressive scrawl. you kiss the paper, blot it with your lip stain.

the connection isn't sexual to start - not for you, anyway. it's not long though that your stomach starts fluttering in your belly at his crude language. a throbbing between your legs you haven't felt before. you wanted to be friends. let him know he had a friend.

he keeps saying fuck in his letters, though. keeps calling you things like sweetheart and good girl and princess - and it makes you feel funny. you feel so guilty, you've never felt this way before.

do you tell him? maybe he can explain these feelings to you. he's much more experienced and he's your friend. he would be honest with you, upfront.

I dont want you to be mad at me - but my feelings are changin' towards you. not in a bad way - I don't think. I'm not sure, actually. maybe it's bad. I care about you. you're my friend. but sometimes...... sometimes when I think about you and the way you speak to me I feel a little funny. it's like butterflies but down there.... you know in my private place. I know it's inappropriate to talk about it - mama would beat my hide for even mentioning my private parts to another man. I'm just so confused. it gets wet. almost like an ache. but not the ache I get in my stomach when it's my monthly - that's a bad ache. this feels different. I know there are things I don't understand that other people do. would you tell me? I don't like not understanding what's happening to my body. I don't think it's bad. if I had to pinpoint it - I'd say it's almost good. but too much good. I'm sorry I'm botherin' you with this. I just trust you more than anyone else. with everything. with me.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Uhm,,,, may I ask for geo x shy reader (whatever format you want, im just starving for geo content) (´·ω·`)

Diffidence (Geo x Shy! MC/Reader)

Thank you for the ask Anon! I had fun writing this one (albeit, as someone who isn't even remotely shy, I want to apologise if the shyness part seemed inaccurate). Hope you enjoy! :D - Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Diffidence: modesty or shyness resulting from a lack of self-confidence.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo wasn’t the shy type. He never was, nor ever planned to be. Unfortunately, you were.

He never understood how someone as…dare he say…beautiful and smart as you could be so insecure of yourself. Even actively talking yourself down, trying to doll yourself up to appease the gazes of people who’d never appreciate you. Not in the way he did anyway.

When Crowe first introduced you to him, and the others, you tried asking him about Hyugo, about why he even hung out with Crowe and company; and all it took for you to become antsy was a couple seconds of intense eye-contact. Sure, he was irked by the former query, but it didn't mean he was irked by YOU.

It didn’t even register in his head at the time that someone could be as shy as you. But he wasn’t planning on letting others take advantage of it.

He’s seen first-hand how cruel other people at this school can be, and he wasn’t going to let them lay a finger on you (if someone already did, they’re dead)

Everytime someone remotely dodgy approached you, asking for a favour, or for ‘help’ with ‘something’, he’d nonchalantly drag you elsewhere, ensuring that you were again safe. That you didn't have to do anything they requested of you.

He would try to be less cold with you, especially since he was starting to become extremely somewhat fond of you. 

He would make attempts to get you to join the Archery Club, so he could see you more often assist (and subtly praise) you whenever you did well; which was always. You get the bullseye each time. He trains you well. (A bit *too* well some have noticed).

He’d 110% death-stare anyone who tried talking to you after that, didn’t matter if they seemed nice or not, they aren’t trustworthy, not like him.

If you become a target of bullies? They’ll end up hospitalised. Rumours? Person who started them will magically vanish without a trace. He doesn’t care, he’s got enough money to buy this whole city and not make a dent in his funds. The city cops love a good bribe.

Tries to slowly grow closer to you during Archery, hoping that you will warm up to him, become less antsy around him; and eventually (to his unbounding relief), you start talking.

You tell him about your interests, your likes, dislikes, worst fear, what classes you had; and he’s entranced. He doesn’t even care if he spends all day there anymore, he enjoys your voice too much. Also remembers everything you tell him. 

You start talking to him more, and all he can do is relish in the fact that he’s befriending one of the kindest, prettiest, smartest people he’s ever met.

Oh, if you like Crowe? You won’t soon enough, Geo will make sure of that. He won’t harm Crowe’s reputation or try to paint him as a monster, but expect Crowe to become way busier than usual.

Will start randomly muttering compliments to you; sometimes you hear them, to which he denies…but deep down you know he sung your praises, and it fills you with warmth; because you know he isn’t the type to lie to his friends.

“Ugh, Brittney’s so pretty.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” (you’re not).

Will send you a gift on your birthday, Valentine’s Day (he’ll make an exception to hating it if it means seeing you happy), Halloween, Christmas, he doesn’t care. Any occasion to give you something is a good one.

Will ask you out…eventually…maybe in a few decades (jkjk)

But when he does, his stoic face will crack, possibly for the first time ever, and he’ll smile. (You can’t handle it he’s too beautiful)

Will ensure you know how highly he thinks of you every single day, along with letting you be the only person to hold his hand.

Will treasure you. Will tell you secrets after a while, will remind you that you can say how you feel around him, and you better start believing it.

As long as you’re comfortable, safe and happy around him, he's content.

[boul3vvard]

Bring your child to work day･*.:+

Sanemi AU x GN! Reader DRABBLE!

S/n = sons name

I started writing this story back in nov 2022 I abandoned it and came back to it March 2023 erased the ending and rushed it so sorry if this isn’t up to par I’m just trying to get this out of my drafts lol. Now a few pointers

★ Sanemi is OOC I just think that it would be really cute to picture him in this sorta dynamic.

★I tried to keep it gender neutral as possible this is also my first time writing a gn story so feel free to give me any possible feedback

★also as I always say this isn’t proof read AT ALL!! so there might be a ton of grammatical errors idrc HAPPY READING

There are only 3 characters who are color coded

Y/n sanemi and s/n

“Are you sure you’ll be fine taking him with you I mean he’s only 4, He won’t be too much of a distraction for you?”

y/n said while doing their sons hair making his curls pop out a little more.

“He’ll be fine we’re not doing too much in class today anyways” sanemi sighed as he was getting dressed for work. “You’ll be good for daddy right?” y/n asked s/n while looking at him in the mirror. “MMHM” s/n said happily. Y/n was a little nervous at first about this whole ordeal when sanemi brought it up but all the doubt disappeared when y/n saw how giddy their son was to spend time with sanemi this was also the first time their son is going to be around a bunch of people at once, let alone a bunch of teenagers. how will he react? “he’ll be fine plus I’m there if anything does happen, which nothing will so stop worrying, You act like we’re going to war or something” sanemi chuckled as he patted his partners shoulders. “I know I know I guess I’m just a little worried” they sighed “for nothing, we’re gonna head out inna bit I have to get to work early. where is the little guy so I can put his shoes on?” “IM RIGHT HERE DADDY” his son squealed excitedly “LOOK”. sanemi sighed, a soft smile appearing on his face. “your shoes are on the wrong feet you dork c’mere” Y/n packed everything sanemi needed for Haruto in his book bag so he wouldn’t get bored. “are you all set and ready to go?” sanemi said while picking his son up into his arms. “Have fun you two” y/n waved at the two before they left.

Sanemi got to class 1 hour early so he could prepare his classroom for the day. students started rolling in and filling in their seats, two of his students ran into his classroom one slapping the other repeatedly. “INOSUKE STOP HITTING TANJIRO FOR THE LAST TIME I WILL NOT REPEAT MYSELF” Inosuke gruffed as he plopped into his desk. “hey sir, who is that child sitting in your chair? if you don’t mind me asking” Tanjiro asked pointing to the child as his classmates started to quiet down since they all wanted an explanation. “He’s my son. I decided to bring him in with me today he won’t be too much of a distraction” sanemi said as he started gathering all of the papers on his desk into a neat pile. The class all became strangely quiet so he looked up to see what was wrong “yes?” He said as he quirked his eyebrow. “YOU HAVE A CHILD??” they all yelled in Unison. “FORGET ABOUT THE CHILD YOU’RE MARRIED??” Zenitsu yelled freaking out. “Is that a problem?” sanemi started to get angry. “I just feel bad for the sorry sack who decided to tie the knot with you” Inosuke said bluntly. Sanemi threw an eraser at the boys forehead. “Before we get started on today’s plan how about I let him introduce himself to you all” just before the boy was about to speak everyone zoomed in on him making him feel so small, he hid behind his daddies leg. “it’s okay remember how we practiced in the car do it exactly like that okay don’t be shy” sanemi said as he pushed him up front, everyone weirded out about how soft he got for a sec-. “h-hello my name is s/n and I’m 4 years old” he showed everyone on his fingers. All of the girls in the classroom started cooing at the young boy. “AWWW HES SO CUTE” they shouted. “thank you” s/n said blushing at his shoes, he ran back to his dad and hugged him. “You did good, now go sit down for a little bit alright daddy has to do his job okay” “okay” s/n said shyly as he ran back to sanemi’s seat.

The rest of the day went smoothly as s/n opened up throughout the day and became more talkative. During passing periods Haruto would run to the other teachers classrooms to greet them. He ran up to the first classroom and walked in. “Uhhhh mr Iguro Theres a Child standing in the door way” one of his students said confused. Iguro was about to tell the child off before he raised his eyebrows in confusion. “s/n?? What are you doing here?” “I’m with daddy today he let me come to work with him today” he basically shouted happily “I see, well im in the middle of teaching right now how about you come back later okay? “Okay see you later” on his way back to his fathers class he stopped by Uzui’s class, they were all circled around a bowl of fruit quietly drawing it on their own. “I LOVE DRAWING CAN I DRAW TOO?!” The entire class was startled by the broken silence. “s/n??, What are you doing here kid? And what a flashy way of entering a room” Tengen said smiling at the kid ear to ear “I’m here with daddy” “of course you are but where is he? “In his classroom” “well I’m kinda in the middle of a class kiddo so how about you run back to your father and I’ll catch up with you later, how does that sound” “OKAY BYE BYE” just as he was about to run off again sanemi scooped him up “there ya are punk, you can’t go running off like that especially not at my job,what if principle Ubuyashiki caught you before I did huh?” “Sorry daddy I went to go see uncle Oguro” “let’s go eat lunch y/n packed you something delicious” sanemi said “YAYYYY”.

overall he enjoyed being at work with his father and seeing what he did daily. Some of the kids would chat with him which he loved of course and even colored with him. The class fell in love with him very much only knowing him for such a short while. I liked today Do you think I can come to work with you tomorrow daddy?” “Of course you can.” Now let’s go home I’m sure y/n can’t wait to hear all about your day today”

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