#desert is a pretty underated streamer

[prettyboypistol]

TF2 Mercs x Romantic M!Reader

Scout

Has never had anyone pull out the stops for him. He's the youngest of 7, his life has been full of hand-me-downs and overlooking.

When you hand him a bouquet of roses he actually fucking cries.

Dinner, a movie while holding hands, cuddling under the stars? God, he feels like a princess in a disney movie and you're his prince charming

Soldier

He's touched, really, he is! But has a hard time expressing it. He gives you a big ol' kiss and thanks you with a smile, but is lowkey pretty awkward when you offer to dance with him.

He looooved the homecooked dinner you made for him- after all, restaurants aren't really his scene. Course after course if just amazing!

Afterwards, you convince him to slowdance/cuddledance with you while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He blushed so hard you can feel the heat on his cheeks.

Pyro

OH MY GOD??? ALL THIS FOR ME??? THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

Well, that's what you think they signed to you as they blubbered tearfully and hugged you. You decorated the recreation room with streamers of deep red and had a bowl of icecream to share while watching a movie!

Their favorite part is when you lit the streamers on fire, making a brief flaming heart.

Demoman

What's better than a roadtrip and sightseeing in a new place? You two snuck out and drove to Dallas for a long weekend out. It took you eons to convince the Administrator for a long weekend too, so it was extra heartfelt!

Big foods, big hats, and big inside jokes nobody else will understand, most of all- you take Demoman out to light fireworks in the desert. Big ones.

With all the clamoring to see the light show, Demoman is elated to kiss you in public with nobody noticing.

Engineer

Going to his favorite museum of engineering and listening to him talk is what Dell found most heartstopping. That dopey look of love as you listened intently had him in a chokehold.

Brushing the backs of your hands together feels more scandalous than holding your hand as you give him a teasing wink.

After, you cook his favorite meal? "Oh darlin', you're an angel."

Heavy

Doesn't know how to react at first, insisting he doesn't need to be spoiled. Then you pull out the handknitted mittens with bear paws on the inside and he's all the way on board to let you spoil him like a king.

You get a thank you kiss for everything you do, a promise to repay the favor later (;P) with every surprise you give him.

Oh boy does he, the more you love on Heavy, the more he loves on you.

Sniper

Survivalist camping with him over the weekend is how you win his heart. He sees you fishing at the crack of dawn and you just smile at him and hand him a pole. The comfortable silence has him blushing like a poppy.

Play wrestle this man. Play wrestle him and win. Pin this man to the ground with a playful yet exerting smile and he will never forget the moment until the day he does and then some. Then kiss him. Do it.

Spy

Ah, a nice restaurant where he doesn't have to worry about the bill, a gala where he doesn't have to assassinate anyone, and a handsome man he isn't obligated to sleep with for information- this is the perfect date!

He's quite the flirt as well, but as long as you can keep up with him, you'll win out in the end with your romance attack modifiers of the date on your side.

Dancing with him is a must, even if you're bad, it's still overwhelmingly charming to Spy.

Medic

YOU BOUGHT HIM NEW SYRINGES AFTER HIS OLD ONES SNAPPED???? AWWW YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!!!

Much like Spy, Medic loves a fancy dinner and dancing, but he likes the thrill of a mission to help digest his food. That's why you two break into the blood donation truck and take some especially weird samples of blood that you find.

While the police chase you, you two share a kiss. Be gay, do crime!

[tourneyposting]

i decided to randomise megamix

see under the cut for sourcelists & fan-names

01 - MAU5TRAP

-Claymation/Stop Motion -Gnarls Barkley & It's members -Snakes, Serpents, & Reptiles -Kero Kero Bonito

02 - Summer Swimming

-Rivals of Aether & flashygoodness -Mysteries, Detective Media, & Puzzles -Royalty & Time -School & Education

03 - Lord Farquaad

-RayWilliamJohnson -Studio Ghibli & Their Image Albums -Pre-2012 Internet Culture & Bait-And-Switch memes (NO SIIVAGUNNER)

04 - Heaven Ascension Dio

-Big Time Rush/Stephen Glickman, Boy Bands & Their solo acts -Jojo's Bizzare Adventure & other Shonen Jump media -Wayforward & ArcSystem

05 - Ace D. Copular

-Smash Mouth & Shrek Artists -Webcomics, Animated Webseries, & Indie Web Animation -Quad City DJs/Space Jam Artists

06 - Maddumb

-90s Hip Hop/Rap -Lofi Hip-Hop & Shiloh Dynasty -Dreamworks -Pokémon & It's mainstay artists

07 - Neil Cipher

-Well-Known Music Producers -Insects & Skeletons -Otaku Culture/Sex -Alt Rock, Britpop, & Post-Britpop

08 - Tomska

-Sleep, Dreams, & Nightmares -Twitch/Esports games -Jojo's major antagonists references -First Person/Class-Based shooters, & Guns

09 - Tord

-Turner Broadcasting Media -Space & Aliens -Danny Baranowsky

10 - Charles "All-Star" Barkley

-Geico Commercials/Made for Ads -Progressive House & Dubstep -Sampled by Neil/Featured in his Mouth albums -Robots, Ghosts, & Felines

11 - Hot Hats

-Lou Bega, Mambo, & Big Band -Skating/Boarding & Skate Punk/Ska -Madeon & His collaboraters

12 - Last Peace

-S3RL/Happy Hardcore -SoundClown sources & SoundCloud rappers -Gears for Breakfast/Indie Platformers & Collectathons -Racing Games, Cars, & Bikes

13 - Scatman John

-Tally Hall & It's members -Christmas, Winter, Snow, & Ice -R&B & Soul

14 - Baba

-War, Explosives, & Flight -Electro Swing -Interscope solo female artists

15 - DARK ONES

-Voxel -Halley Labs -Psychadelic/Drugs

16 - UNCRE/ATIVE

-C418, Minecraft, & Sandbox -Lil Darkie/Spider Gang & Their Producers & Collaboraters -Gangs & Organised Crime -Creepypastas

17 - Oven Beats

-RPGMaker -Hardstyle/Trap Metal -88rising & Their collaboraters

18 - Elliana

-Streamers, Streaming, & Streamer BGM -Arena Fighters & 3D Brawlers (NO ARMS) -Live Action Sitcoms

19 - Sex Rulers

-Mods -The Apocalypse -Snail's House/Kawaii Future Bass

20 - Mettaton EX

-Tyler, The Creator & His collaboraters -Damon Albarn -Eddsworld & It's collaboraters -French Touch/Ed Banger

21 - Bad Snails

-Big Beat, Plunderphonics, & Turntablism -Gigi D'Agostino & Fatman Scoop -Undertale/Deltarune -Eastern European Culture, Food, & Culinary arts

22 - Sleepless Nights

-Deadmau5, his collaboraters, & Mau5trap artists -Bedroom Pop -VGM & Chiptune EDM

23 - The Mutant Enderman

-Beat Em Up -Game & Watch/Other Category -ARGs -Glam-Rock

24 - Rocque Banger

-Industrial, Dark Techno, & IDM -Bodies of Water & Sea Life -80s/90s Nintendo Non-VGM -Valve & It's fancontent

25 - CA7 & MATT

-NES, SNES, & Gameboy -FGC Competitions & 2D Fighting Games -Neil Cicierega -Money & Partying

26 - Cursed ARMS

-Nickelodeon/Nick Records -Vampires & Religion -Synthpop/Synthwave -One-Hit Wonders & 90s Hits (NO RAP/HIP HOP)

27 - Snail's Stream

-YTPs/YTPMVs & Keygen -Disney Channel/Disney XD & Disney child stars -Billboards Top 100 2010 & 2019

28 - Misako

-Newgrounds/Flash & Their creators -Rythm Games -Rick Astley/80s New Wave

29 - Lou Bega

-ARMS/Switch Exclusives -Huey Lewis & The News -Dungeon Crawlers/Roguelikes

30 - The Grinch

-Heat/Fire & Summer -Zombies -Chipzel

31 - Ke$ha

-Murder & Killing -Sports, Training Segments, & Montages -Ke$ha, Billie Eilish, & Their collaboraters

32 - GAME: BEAT: HUNT

-Cowboys, Deserts, & The Wild West -Illumination/Dr Seuss -Scatman John, Eurodance, & Jazz -Monstercat artists

i'm pretty sure i forgot a source in there. don't know what it is though. whatever it is goes to ke$ha.

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

day 7 update/reactions of my first run, semi-blind, of disco elysium. end of run.

my god. what a game. something happened to me through it all and i haven't figured it out. i am happy and can't wait to see what others discovered when they played this. i hope the twitch streamers i watch decide to play this game, even if its better enjoyed blind

details on the previous days here, apologies for mispellings, i'll get the hang of it

under the cut:

- by this point in the story my Harry can't afford getting too distracted

- Kim's room is very organized

- for narrative purposes I up my Volition, Shivers, and Espirit de Corps simultaneously. Hearing Revachol itself is a wonder.

- BLOOD ON THE GROUND! good on you Cindy. I doubt I'll light it on fire though

- after much deducing we go to Fishing Village again, with our dear Lilienne lending us her boat. her kids are sweet as always!

- that skillset perking up apparently let me know that the officers watching Harry's ass for the past few days plan to meet him

- "point of no return" what the fuck do you mean, Inland Empire

- pull up the boombox, we're boating!!!

- abandoned island creeps, open doors, and the SNIPER'S NEST. oh fuck the Sniper lives here. can't sleep in that bed yet!!!

- OH SHIT OH SHIT the culprit: M. Dros, a communist deserter from the old revolution. With can opener tactics, we fish out information that makes a confession.

- I can't believe it. Kim and Harry arguing over who gets to bring the Deserter over. To me this is the most logical conclusion after saving each other during a standoff.

- BRO THE PHASMID???? IT'S REAL! is it meant to show up just as we get the confession?????? Dros is in a fetal position and can't see it

- Kim can see it! Yes! No pics yet bestie, I need to talk to it. I get to talk to it. Why are you in awe of me you strange creature? I'm flattered you think such divinity can rest in my brain

- Okay Kim take the picture now. It's such a pretty scene and wonderfully drawn by the game!!! Goodbye insulindian phasmid!

- The Deserter being reduced into a dummy state solves our travel issue. We walk back. Kim, I think I'll take that nap now.

- what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

- oh no. God-Wife. This is why we forget at all.

- "suggestion (92%): kiss her." i need to try but i hope this fails—"CHECK SUCCESS." fuck. and she didn't even kiss back!

- she's right Harry, your deification of your ex isn't a good idea

- must you call me poor? fuck wait, that's Harry's self-loathing. I've been playing as Sorry Copotype, this makes sense. Like, I get that we, the player, have been playing with the voices in Harry's head all game but I maxed Inland Empire so literally anything can talk at this point. The city fucking talks, why shouldn't this?

- it's tiring to make Harry like this. We need to let go, my blorbo, we've come this far.

- in retrospect, was that. was that foreshadowing. what the phasmid told me?

- Hi Kim. Let's head back to the Fishing Village. Oh shit the other cops are here too

- TRANT??? you've been helping my precinct and refused to say shit about knowing me???

- i know Jean, I'm a sorry sack of shit

- Kim 😭😭😭 you say such nice things

- "he's a [communist]" bro I was making Harry kiss everyone's ass regardless of politics! is this the game acknowledging that i didn't Forget the associated Thought or did it pick up on my dialogue choices ending up being predominantly communist? i mean, i was building up to sympathy towards that by the end but like. sympathy. idk all Harry and I care about is that Kim spoke well of me

- enjoy that picture you bastards

- Join me at 41, Lt. Kitsunagi!!! You bore with an awful man at his most awful time and you both came out better for it! WAAAAHHHHH

- We're still in, baby! The sun sets on a new chapter for everyone in Revachol, in Martinaise.

[gamebunny-advance]

I can’t stop imagining DJSS playing Connect 4 with Neon J saying 1:39:10 to 1:40:18.

[ray-ray-writings]

Stream Stresses-SBI Au

This is a Brother!Technoblade, Brother!Wilbur, Brother!Tommyinnit, and Father!Philza x gn!reader in the SBI inc Au. I hope that this is written how the anon that requested it wants it, but I’m not sure. So basically, the SBI is a real family dynamic, the thing is that all of Philza’s children, Y/N, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are all well known streamers and everybody’s fans know this and love the family dynamic that you four have, because you’re literally family. So yeah. Here you go, I hope you enjoy. 

Check out my masterlist here!

When Y/N makes fun of their brother, chat jumps to his defense by saying some not so nice things about Y/N. The mean things cause Y/N to shut down their stream with tears in their eyes, worrying their father, Philza.

Y/N’s POV

“Hello chat!” I exclaimed, adjusting my headphones as people slowly began to flood the chat, “How are we today?” A variety of responses flew through my chat before my question was returned to me. “How am I today? I’m doing good! Thank you for asking!” My eyes scanned my notification and I couldn’t help but smile at the subs and donos rolling through. I quickly thank everyone by name before clapping, “Okay chat, today we are going to be playing Minecraft. But we’re not going to play on the SBI server, no we’re going to attempt speedrunning!” I explained. I eagerly watched my chat explode in support, a lot of ‘POGS’ flying by my eyes. “Well let’s get started, shall we?” 

I quickly opened my Minecraft and adjusted my stream so that my viewers could see what I was doing. “What should we name the first world? Yes we’re naming them, what monster does not name their speedrun worlds?” Random names flew through the chat, until one caught my eyes. “Tommy! We’ll name this one Tommy so when it let’s me down it won’t be anything new!” I cheered, typing the name into the world box, giggling to myself. For the most part the chat found it funny, but I did see some people say some mean stuff for making fun of my brother. 

I quickly cleared my throat and shook it off, “Here we go chat!” I exclaimed before loading in the world. I spawn in an acacia biome next to a desert, “So far Tommy’s treating us pretty good huh?” I joked, rushing over to a tree and punching it. I gained a bunch of wood and then began running through the desert in search of a village. I found one rather quickly and began my raid. I got everything from the chests and then found the iron golem and hit it to get it to chase me so I could build up and kill it… Only problem is I wasn’t quick enough.

I let out screech as the iron golem flung me up in the air, dealing a crazy amount of damage to the point where when I landed, I died. I gave a quick huff and pout as I exited out of the world. “Okay… What did I say, should have been expected to be let down by Tommy!” I exclaimed, my eyes scanning the chat. A few people laughed, but a lot of them were calling me horrible. They were saying that I shouldn’t blame my inability to play the game on my brother. It caused a pain to strike in my heart, because that’s not what I was doing at all. Really mean names began flying through my chat causing me to clear my throat and look away. “Um… Let’s try again,” I mumbled, creating a new world. 

“We’re just going to keep going down the list” I announced, trying to bring my energy back up as I typed the name “Wilbur” into the world box before hitting ‘create world’ and loading in. I let my eyes dance back to chat that seemed to go back to normal, but there were still some really mean people in chat. This time I spawned in a plains biome next to a village. I got pretty far this time. I made it all the way to the nether, even found a fortress, but my excitement about it died pretty quickly… because I did too. 

“NOOO!” I shouted at the ‘You Died’ screen. “I didn’t even see that blaze there! Damn it Wilbur!” I exclaimed, exciting out of the world once more. My eyes looked over to chat again, praying that the haters had gotten bored and left… My prayers were not answered. Instead, there were probably the most amount of haters I’d ever seen in my chat before. Every message was filled with hate. Telling me that I wasn’t good enough, that I should just quit, that my brothers were so much better than I was and there was no reason for me to even continue. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help the tears that formed in my eyes and began streaming down my cheeks. 

“Ummm… Thanks for coming. I’m going to end stream now,” I sniffed, closing Minecraft and going to my streaming settings. “Bye,” I whimpered out before ending the stream. I sat there frozen for a minute before breaking down into sob. Why do they hate me?

*POV Switch*

Philza’s POV

A grin crossed my face as my phone lit up with a twitch notification. I quickly shifted my attention to my phone screen to figure out which child it was that was going live. It was Y/N! I quickly set up my phone in such a way that I could ‘watch’ their stream while I made dinner for everyone. “Hello chat!” I heard them exclaim, “How are we today!” 

It really warmed my heart to watch my children stream. All four of them had worked extremely hard to get where they are today. I did everything I could to understand the Twitch community so I could support my children as they achieved their dreams. Sure it was hard at times, me trying to keep up with everything in all their streams but also when they’re all streaming at the same time and just screaming at each other, but we make it work. 

My focus turned to the food that I was making. Footsteps entered the kitchen pulling my attention away from the stream, “Hey Dadza,” Techno’s monotone voice greeted me from behind. “Hello Techno,” I greeted back, throwing him a smile over my shoulder. “Is Y/N streaming?” Techno asked, walking to the refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing a water bottle. I nodded my head at the question. “Yeah, they’re speed running,” I responded, turning my head back to the veggies I was cutting for dinner. Techno let out a hum before turning his attention to my phone. 

As I cooked, I could hear Techno let out small laughs at what they’re sibling was saying on their stream. Twentyish minutes had gone by before Techno spoke actual words, “What the fuck,” He muttered, getting closer to my phone. “Language… What’s going on?” I asked, still focused on making dinner. “Y/N is crying,” He explained. My head snapped to my phone and sure enough, tears were streaming down their face. “Bye” they croaked out before the stream just ended. Not wasting any more time, I grabbed my phone and I ran out of the kitchen and toward Y/N’s room. 

As I grew closer, I could hear sobs coming from their room causing my heart to sink in my chest. I gave a quick knock on the door before barreling in. Y/N was still sitting in their gaming chair, hunched over into themselves, their hands muffiling the sobs falling from their lips. “Oh honey,” I whispered, closing the door behind me. Y/N’s head shot up and their red rimmed eyes met mine. Another loud sob broke from their mouth causing my heart to hurt even more. I took a few quick steps forward to get to them and offer them comfort. Y/N rose from their gaming chair and fell into my open arms. I quickly wrapped my arms around them in a tight hug. “I’ve got you honey,” I murmured, “I’ve got you.”

At some point, I slowly made my way to their bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard, pulling them to sit across my lap, burying their face in my chest like all those years ago when they were a lot younger. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the afternoons that they and their brothers would go outside to play and ride bikes and they would come back in with scraped and bloodied knees and palms. I would pull them into my lap, dry their tears, and help them calm down. It’s a bittersweet memory. It feels nice to think back, but under these circumstances? Not so much. 

Slowly but surely, Y/N’s sobs died down into simple sniffles before stopping all together. “You okay?” I questioned softly, leaning back ever so slightly so I could meet my child’s eyes. Their puffy ears peered up as they slowly nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be okay,” they muttered out resting their head back on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked carefully, not wanting to upset them again. A soft sigh left Y/N’s mouth, “I suppose I should. It’s best not to bottle it up,” they thought aloud causing me to smile just a little bit. A small bit of pride welled up inside me of how grown up they sounded. 

The smile quickly faded from my lips as my child explained what had happened on their stream. How chat had turned on them and the mean things that they said. I could feel my blood begin to boil. I was extremely pissed at not only chat, but at the mods for not stopping it. But I had to remain calm on the outside, for Y/N’s sake. 

“I’m so sorry that happened honey. You don’t deserve that. Nothing they said is true okay? You work so hard and it shows because you’re so good at what you do. Your brothers are good at what they do too. You guys are on equal playing feels and are all exceptional streamers. You deserve all good things honey. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to mod. You’re never streaming without me modding again. Do you understand me?” I rambled, staring at my child curled in my lap. A small giggle sounded in the air causing me to relax ever so slightly. “Yeah. I understand you dad… Thank you.” 

Before I could respond, there was a small knock on the door. “Come in,” Y/N called, staring curiously at the door. It swung open and there stood my three other children peering nervously into the room. After standing in the doorway in an awkward silence for a moment, Tommy lets out a loud scoff before pushing his way into the room and crawls up on the best next to us. Tommy then surprises me by wrapping his arms around his sibling and gives them a tight squeeze, “You’re a good streamer Y/N,” I heard him mumble in his sibling's ear. “Chat can be just a little stupid sometimes.” Another giggle passes through their lips as Y/N slides off of my lap and sits in between Tommy and I. “Thanks Tommy,” they whisper back, turning their body to properly hug their brother back. 

The closing of the door pulled my attention away from my youngest two. Wilbur and Techno were now also completely in the room and were heading toward the bed as well. I moved over so that one of them could sit in between Y/N and I and the other could go sit next to Tommy. Wilbur took the place beside me, sending Techno over by Tommy. Not saying anything, Wilbur turned his body and reached over and wrapped his long arms around Y/N and Tommy, trapping them in their own hug. For the first time ever, neither of them complained. Neither told him to get off, simply just accepted the affection from their brother. 

And to my surprise and delight, Techno leaned onto Tommy and wrapped his arms around the two as well, his arms only able to wrap around Y/N. The four didn’t say anything as they laid in the cuddle pile. I couldn’t stop the tears that formed in my eyes. They hadn’t done this in years. Before Wilbur and Techno hit their teen years, the four of them would cuddle in piles like this all the time. When I couldn’t find any of them, I would only have to find one to find all of them. But once the teen years began, the two eldest felt that they were too cool to cuddle with their siblings and the piles came to a stop. It warms my heart to see them do this, even if it’s under really shitty circumstances. 

One by one, their breathing evened out. One by one, they fell asleep. Once I was sure all were asleep, I slowly and carefully got off of the bed and managed to do so without waking any of them. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, made sure the ringer and flash were off, before snapping many photos. I didn’t plan on sharing them with everyone, they were just for me to have and to hold. Maybe I’ll print one and put it in my office. 

I carefully slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me before heading back to the kitchen. The kitchen was exactly how I left it when I fled to Y/N’s room after seeing them cry. As quietly as I could, I put everything away. I decided I was no longer in a mood to cook. Besides, on days like today, I think Y/N deserves to have their favorite carry out… Don’t you?

I don’t know if I liked how this one turned out, so let me know what you think! Leave a like if you did enjoy it and maybe even reply or reblog or even send me an ask telling me what you thought!!

[eeveleon]

relaxing rendezvous

omg this is a month late oops LOL anyways here’s day 5: chocolate - decorations

Read here on AO3

Temari was on her way to Konoha again, but not for her usual task of planning the Chuunin exams - those had taken place a month ago.

This time, she was there to deliver a few scrolls to the Hokage and also, as her brother put it, take an extended recess for a few days. 

A waste of time was what Temari called it. Though she didn’t mind the three day journey all that much anymore; it was nice to get some time to herself. Certainly better than being stuck on desert patrol with Kankuro and his annoying puppet nerd squad. 

And it wasn’t like Konoha was a boring place. In the entertainment aspect, it was pretty good actually. Good restaurants, good parks, good shopping. 

“Oi, troublesome woman. Back so soon?”

Somewhat good company. 

Shikamaru was waiting for her as usual, so heavily leaning against the sides of the gate as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. Which, knowing him, it probably was. “Seriously, you have nothing better to do than pretend to be a guide?” She called, right away getting started with their habitual bickering. 

“Clearly, the Hokage doesn’t give ‘cloud-watching’ the same importance I do.” He responded easily, falling into step beside her. “Speaking of our leader, she doesn’t have time to see you today.” 

Temari stopped in her tracks. “What? Why not!”

“Something came up with the civilian council. And the elders get all huffy if that drags on too long, which causes problems for the rest of us.” He explained as he folded his arms lazily behind his head. 

“I traveled all this way-”

“Relax, you’ll get your meeting tomorrow morning.” Shikamaru interrupted with a roll of his eyes. “For today, you’re encouraged to relax and ‘enjoy the sights.’ You know how to relax, right?”

Temari punched him for that one. “What sights?” She muttered, already irritated by her short time in Konoha. “I’ve been here a dozen times.”

Shikamaru just shrugged. “You’ll see.”

And soon, Temari did. As they got closer to the marketplace, the streets got noisier and busier as shinobi and civilians mingled. Merchants lined the sides, all trying to sell their wares. Children raced each other, running and laughing. Even older shinobi that she was used to seeing in the standard green flak jacket were wearing casual clothing as they wandered through the market. Though the lighthearted atmosphere was a nice change, what really caught Temari’s eye were the decorations that covered, well, everything.

There were streamers hung across awnings, arrays of flowers in the windowsills, and line after line of lights strung over their heads. There was even a distinct sweetness in the air. It was all gorgeous. 

Temari took a minute to really appreciate it. “What’s going on here today?” She asked.

Shikamaru sighed tiredly, but it was easy for her to tell that it was just for show. “Neji, Hinata, and some of the others had a rescue mission in a distant village. The man they helped is actually a daimyo and he sent his best merchants here as thanks. Turns out, he rules the Land of Sugar, hence, all this... sugar.” 

He pointed out a symbol on a sign for a nearby merchant, that Temari now realized was repeated at every stall. It wasn’t one she recognized, probably a small land that fell under Suna’s radar. 

Sudden excitement bubbled up inside Temari. She had always had a sweeth tooth, and insisted on trying dango from one of Konoha’s shops every time she visited. The idea of trying a dessert from a distant land really thrilled her. 

However, she noticed her companion seemed less than enthusiastic about the commotion around them. “You don't seem too fond of it.” 

“I’m not really a sweets person.” Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck. “And the village has been so loud lately - it’s troublesome. The Hokage has given pretty much everyone a day off.”

“And here I was sure you’d be jumping for joy at that.” Temari teased, laughing as a slight blush painted his face. 

“I certainly don’t want to spend my unexpected day off lying in a field of grass. And as my guide, you have to do what I say-” Temari spoke loudly over his grumbling. “-So get ready to buy me lots and lots of chocolate. If you’re a good escort, maybe I’ll even share.” She proclaimed with a wide grin.

Shikamaru went from pink to red instantly. “What a drag.” He mumbled, looking away. 

The chocolates looked as amazing as they smelled. Temari couldn’t pick which flavor to buy, there were just so many, so Shikamaru asked the merchant for a small bite of each. They must have been used to that kind of request, because they were quickly handed a golden tray of a dozen chocolate squares. 

Shikamaru led her over to a bench outside a -currently closed- tea house they frequented. As soon as he placed the tray between them, Temari attacked the sweets and completely forgot her surroundings, completely focused on the smooth, creamy, addictive treats. 

One had a citrus tanginess to it, another minty. The next was salty and filled with caramel. Her favorite had a bitter aftertaste that Temari just immediately fell in love with. In all of her eighteen years, these chocolates were by far the best thing she had ever tasted. 

It was only when she reached into the tray and was met with nothing that her eyes finally flew open. “Huh? My chocolates-” She jumped up, a glare already on her face as she grabbed Shikamaru’s arm threateningly. “You-!”

“Calm down, woman, I didn’t touch your precious sugar.” He smirked as he took her hand off him, shaking his head. “Seriously, so troublesome... you just ate them all.”

Temari folded back onto the bench, embarrassed at both having wrongly blamed him, and also for devouring the entire tray in practically minutes. She stared at her feet sullenly. Did that mean they were going to go back to her inn now, without any more chocolates? 

“Oi, come on already. We’ve got a few other stalls to get to before they start closing.”

Temari’s head shot up, her eyebrows raised high. Shikamaru was already on his feet and continued. “I heard from Choji there’s a guy who makes chocolate into a ball, and there’s like, even more chocolate inside it. Apparently it melts really cool, or something...” He trailed off when he noticed her staring at him. “What now?”

“You... you’d really go back to the markets? In the troublesome crowd, just to buy more chocolates?” She asked softly. 

“Y-yeah, well,” He shrugged, his eyes darting away from her. “If you want.”

Temari grinned as she joined him, ready to walk side by side again. “You know what, Shikamaru? Maybe you were right. Relaxing sometimes isn’t so bad after all.”

“Heh. I know.”

“I said sometimes!”

[del-uxie]

Who are your OCs?

i have several! here are my main ones (ignore the god tiers or whatever)

a brief synopsis in order: ameera - insane cowgirl time player ukruke - detective who lost her partner and now works alone, commutes to the city from the harsh desert and has a gigantic centipede lusus gloria - revolutionary who has to take on a disguise as their stage persona (of a higher caste) in order to start a new revolution, having failed one under their first ruse. they also dont want to start a revolution for any good reason anymore, but are just power-hungry and quietly deranged leiraz - nice homeless + lususless lady who likes books and is a bit of a nomad! shes also an actual real life witch limeblood 1105 - robot built for the purpose of being a moirail to unstable highbloods who have potential, a big sweetheart but very gullible and easy to mess with apollo - ukrukes old partner who failed actual law school and had to become a detective. got shaken up after having to kill someone for the first time and subsequently got wrapped up in a scheme to claim to be the true heir to alternias throne (with the help of gloria), there being no current claimant at the time. mostly aloof and a chill person otherwise though. also has big tits mailiz - gamer girl streamer who is very cool and also skateboards. she also turns into a like 9000000000 year old glitched voidy milf by the end of her timeline which i think is pretty cool. she doesnt really have many social boundaries and is extremely self assured persus - stoner who is also a leader of an emo band, and also a known heartthrob. zerrix - prettyboy streamer whos 100% non violent (and believes it to be a biological disorder on his part which he feels bad about) and likes to make drawings and clothes for his friends. also a furry. aster - hot mess lady who makes/repairs robots for fun. her room is very messy all the time and she drinks a lot but is good company and wont take your shit ardile - lady blinded as part of an exchange with horrorterrors to get her lifetime best friend deedee back as a ghost. she used to be in aster and persus' band but after the incident and aster & persus breaking up they dont really hang out anymore. these days she never surfaces and barely talks to anyone but can be fucking scary if you get on her bad side. she's the reason for gloria's facial disfigurement. shes also really into sportsmanship and proper fighting which shes trained for since she was young deedee - ghost girl heiress who died of a hereditary disease thats been killing all potential heiresses young. she claims to be crazy but really shes just a silly lady. she also culls fuschiablood grubs for profit in order to fund a certain game.

i also have devs which i dont feel like getting pictures for: jon - (unbeknownst to the rest of the team) first guardian maker of sburb (first guardians have different lore in my universe) who essentially created the game in order to truly live forever - by being able to harvest the suffering/lifespan of people who play the game, as well as the creation of infinite universes (thus infinite green suns to store such energy), he can defeat entropy (which basically states the universe, and so he, must die some day). hes also a gay man and falls in love with a co developer in the midst of his elaborate plan. he was there when the universe was born and interfered in a lot of stuff he shouldnt have out of sheer curiousity - he was raised by a kindly cherub cowgirl lady, and so he isnt totally emotionless. but because the universe is slowly dying, hes also not totally omnipotent/omniscient like canonical first guardians.

moore - vampire from a legendary dynasty who ended up homeless after a series of events, the catalyst being basically chucked out with the king he was a dresser for after it was found out they were gay. jon picks him up while hes studying computer stuff at a university and they move in together, starting a company and falling in love. they also have a family together (jean and finn). hes a very cranky man

EH/calpurnia - literally just a gamer/stoner type cherub who does most of the programming work along with jon and moore.

marie - deer centaur celestial type lady whos main job is to make planets habitable for species to grow on them. after she finished work on her planet/was on break she made a really big garden, which becomes a house for players to go to for handling if a big error happens in their session. she made a lot of the design choices and drew up clothing designs for god tiers, etc. shes a very nice lady who loves to bake etc. but she has a tendency to latch onto really evil people, since she always sees the best in them

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VI

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 8, 390

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes; The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin. (Read chapter below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Say Yes

There is only one for me

You have made that a possibility

We could take that step to see, mm

If this is really gonna be

All you got to do is say yes

On the following Thursday, Iris finds herself rushing down Main St., her glittery gold pumps making a rhythmic clack-clack-clack on the sidewalk. She barely had time to change from what she’d worn to work, into a long black maxi dress printed with gold feathers all over it. The dress has long sleeves and a modest neckline, though the right side split that rises near to her waist changes what might otherwise just be a pretty casual dress. She’s late, which is why she’s risking a broken neck by running down the street in these shoes, not wanting to hear Wally bitch about being late to his 21st birthday dinner.

She finally gets to the front of Golden’s, where her dad has rented out space for the dinner and later, some music and dancing. Barry is standing outside of the restaurant, in a pair of well-fitting black pants and camel colored desert boots, tugging at the neck of the white sweater that does only good things for those broad shoulders. He looks up from his phone when he hears her heels, and the smile he gives her pulls her up short.

“Hi, beautiful” he greets as he steps out from where he’d been leaning on the wall. “You look nice."

Iris waves a hand, still trying to catch her breath. “I look like I’ve been working all day.”

She touches self-consciously at her hair, knowing that the curls from her bantu knots have likely begun to fall. But when she looks up again, the word nice isn’t actually what she sees as he’s looking at her. It’s a misnomer, the word nice, because his gaze follows the curves of her body, the way the dress’s matching tie shows the deep curve of her waist, and how every time she moves, Barry sees one long, brown leg ending in the double straps around her ankle. Iris shifts under his gaze, at his blown irises, the color of them graying by the moment.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out for her.

“What? Barry, we’re late,” she attempts to argue, even as she’s letting him pull her into his arms. She tumbles into them, letting him wrap both his arms around her as she circles hers around his waist. She can feel the warmth of his palms through the thin material of her dress.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and she inhales deeply before letting it go. Barry loosens his hold, but only enough that he can look into her eyes.

“Let’s try that again,” he teases. “Hi, Iris, you look beautiful.”

Her stomach flutters at the comment and she bites down on her bottom lip. “Thank you, Barry.”

“How’s your day been? We haven’t talked.”

“Barry, we’re…”

“Late. Yes, I know. And maybe I’m stalling because I’m nervous to meet your entire family at your brother’s party, but I also just wanna check in.” He lifts her chin with a forefinger. “So how’s your day been?”

She thinks that she fucking melts, just like that.

“It’s been good. Really good,” she replies softly, trying to hold his tender gaze. “I didn’t have to curse any undergrads. And I, uh, well,” she hesitates for only a moment, but she wants to tell him this, even if it’s news she’s been hoarding for the moment. “Well, my blog is going to be featured on Good Morning, Central City.”

His eyes light up. “What, Iris? That’s amazing!” He wraps his arms around her again and squeezes, even pulling her off of her feet. The sound of her laughter fills the air as she tightens her hold on his neck.

He’s the first person she’s told. She’d gotten the email after lunch this afternoon, about the morning talk show featuring some of Central City’s rising internet stars. She’s never considered herself an internet star, especially because her blog focuses primarily on others, with the exception of the occasional personal story, the occasional picture with an update about her life. But they’re taping the segment in a month’s time and she’ll have a ten minute spot talking to the hosts and answering questions about What a Life You’ve Lived.

“Baby, I’m so damn proud of you.”

And he is, which isn’t so much startling as it is noteworthy. Because he’s new here, but already he’s been so supportive of her and her work, reading and asking questions all the time. It’s a rush, really, and she has to hold on to him to steady herself.

“Thank you so much, Barry. It’s exciting and scary and, humbling, in a way.”

“See,” he says, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Good.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he takes it as an invitation to kiss her. It’s a quick kiss, compared to the way he usually kisses her, but he still leaves her light-headed from the taste and the feel of him. She hums when he pulls away, closing her eyes briefly.

“You ready?” she asks when he’s in her sight again.

“I think I am,” he replies, but she notes that he seems a little dazed too.

“Don’t be nervous,” she grins. “You already know Dad. You’ve met Linda. You’ve likely met Cecile too.”

“Yes, but it’s one thing to talk to Captain West and DA Horton for work. It’s completely different to hang out with them as the man their daughter has been seeing.”

She takes his hand to squeeze once and lets go to run her hand across his chest, picking at invisible lent on his sweater.

“It’ll be fine. Just be your weirdly charming self.”

“Weirdly charming?” His eyes widen and he stands up straighter. “How am I weirdly charming?”

Ignoring his question, she grabs his hand again. “Come on. We’re really late now.”

“But Iris…?”

Iris isn’t quite sure how she got Barry invited to this dinner. She’d gone over to her dad’s for dinner on Sunday, and they’d been talking about Wally’s party, securing some last-minute details. Out of the blue, Wally had blurted about Iris’s “new boyfriend,” though Iris figures it was a calculated move on her brother’s part. But now they’re here, walking into Golden’s hand in hand.

The place has been decorated for the party: white, black, and gold streamers everywhere, a matching balloon arch, a tall matching photo booth set up on one side. The space has been cleared so that there is one long table for the group to sit together (to include their family, Linda and Daniel, Theo and Xuan, and several of Wally’s friends from college). On the other side of the table is a wide-open space where, in about an hour, a DJ will come set up in the corner and the remaining space will act as a makeshift dance floor.

Wally is sitting in the middle of the table, a black leather crown on his head, matching his black t-shirt and blazer paired with black trousers, a gold chain circling his throat. The color theme for his birthday party is black, white, and gold, and as Iris looks around the room, she sees her family and Wally’s friends all adhering to the dress code.

“Iris,” he shouts when he spots her. “Fucking finally.” He immediately glances back at their dad with a low “sorry dad,” before standing to greet her. Iris pulls him in for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she tells him. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thanks, big sis.” He gives her another big squeeze and then pulls back to kiss her cheek.

Joe West, tall and imposing-looking with deep brown skin and kind eyes, shakes his head at his youngest son and stands to give Iris a hug too.

“Good to see you, pumpkin.”

He looks at Barry, who’s standing behind her, looking a little bit pink in the face, his eyes wide. She shakes her head in amusement, thinking about how he’s always so damn confident when he’s with her, but he’s looking like he wants to turn and run at the moment.

“CSI Allen,” her dad says, expression unreadable.

Barry swallows. “Captain West. It’s, uh, good to see you.”

There’s a tense silence for just a moment as her dad seems to size Barry up. But before Barry decides to actually run away, Iris rolls her eyes and lightly taps her father’s shoulder.

“Daddy, stop.”

Her dad blinks once and then his face erupts in a wide grin. “I’m just kidding. Good to see you, Allen.” He reaches out to shake Barry’s hand, clapping his shoulder.

“You too, sir,” Barry nods once, and then again. “And please just call me Barry.”

The rounds are made. Barry greets DA Horton, a pretty woman with ochre colored skin and big brown eyes, who tells him to call her Cecile when they aren’t at work. Wally is next, who gives him a long look, not unlike their father, before reaching out to hug him, whispering something in his ear that makes Barry smile faintly as he looks briefly at Iris before turning back to Wally and nodding firmly. Xuan and Theo greet him with wide smiles, and then Linda gives him a kiss on the cheek before introducing him to Daniel, a tall, sun-kissed man with near black eyes, unruly dark hair, and an easy smile.

The table is divided with family on one end and Wally’s friends on the other, with Wally sitting in the middle on one side and Iris across from him. There are a couple of waiters, Allegra is here as the bartender, and just as Barry and Iris are sitting down, the waiters bring out several plates of appetizers featured on the menu: egg rolls, steamed buns, fried pork dumplings, ginger salads, edamame, baked sticky wings. There are several plates of each, enough for everyone to have some of everything and they all dig in, taking sips of Wally’s birthday cocktail, something that’s mostly champagne, in between.

Iris watches in fascination as Barry effortlessly makes conversation with people around him. It’s not that she’s necessarily surprised; Barry is an affable sort, her dad is an extremely good judge of character, and Wally and Cecile are generally easy-going people. But seeing it in action does something so funny to her that she can’t describe it. When her dad asks how they met, he shoots her a wink and replies, “I saw her out dancing one night and I knew I had to get to know her.” Only she hears Linda’s snort, but the answer does make her shake her head (and flush a little) in remembrance.

Then Cecile wants to know, inexplicably, about their first date.

“She invited me over for dinner,” Barry explains.

“No, I…” She turns sharply to her side, narrowing her eyes at the unmitigated glee in his. He knows that if she explains how he’d just shown up (because she’d invited him over for a one-night stand anyway), they’d both be thrown under the bus.

Iris looks back at the table, at her dad who’s got an eyebrow raised, and at Wally who’s obviously trying not to laugh.

“I don’t really count that as the first date,” she responds through clenched teeth. Barry leans into her, arm draped over her shoulder, fingers playing absently with her dress’s collar.

“So do you count hanging out at Fall Fest?”

She isn’t fooled by the casual tone of his question. “You were there with your friends. You ditching them had nothing to do with me.”

He reaches out and fingers the simple gold open circle studs she’s wearing. The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin.

“Me leaving them had everything to do with you.”

And she’s, for a second (or for a minute, or for some infinite period of time) lost in it, lost in him, forgetting that this is not a private moment, that people are watching, that the goosebumps that are gliding up her arms and the heavy rise and fall of her chest are for everyone to see.

Linda lets out a cough, a way too obvious attempt to break the tension.

“But if we’re talking about our first official date,” Barry says, holding her gaze for a second longer before turning back to her family, “we went on a picnic.”

She can’t look at them, not yet, and she saves face by turning to Linda whose own eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh, a picnic,” Cecile squeals. “How sweet.”

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “It was sweet: the company and the dessert.”

She thinks of the dessert, the way he’d licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth; Iris has to avert her eyes from them again, lest they see her suddenly widened eyes and her speeding pulse, her legs crossing and uncrossing again.

Wally, bless his soul, takes up the conversation from there, turning it to something he’d figured out in one of his classes. Iris leans into Barry.

“You do too much,” she tells him quietly.

He nods in concedence. “You’re probably right.” Then one corner of his mouth lifts again. “But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

She pinches him at that and he yelps, rubbing at his arm.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” she threatens, stretching up to whisper it in his ear.

He licks his lips, eyes blazing. “You promise?”

She punches him lightly on the arm and he responds with a kiss to her cheek.

They fall into individual conversations after that. Plates disappear and more food appears; champagne glasses are taken away or refilled. Iris eats on most of whatever’s put in front of her, but she drinks slowly since it is still a school night. She’s half-listening to Linda and Dan tell her parents about some trip that they’re interested in taking to Vietnam, where all of Dan’s grandparents still live. Her dad and Cecile are flirting a little bit, she thinks, which, weird. Still, she’s got an ear to the conversations that Barry is having. He starts off talking to Jessie, one of Wally’s friends that have been around since Wally started at CCU, about nanotechnology, something Iris has zero interest in, and they geek out about it for long enough that Iris gets bored of it. But that leads them to a conversation about which professors are still at CCU, where Barry also went for undergrad and grad, finishing both eight years ago. That tells her that Barry is about five years older than her, which Iris guesses she can see in his mannerisms, in how comfortable he is in his career and in his thoughts and even in the way he carries his body.

Wally takes Barry’s attention away from Jessie after a while. Barry moves away from Iris enough that he can focus on whatever Wally’s saying. It takes his arm from her chair but he maintains contact by planting his hand on her bare thigh, thumb rubbing against her lightly. She can only hear snippets of their conversation, words their deeper voices, though whispered, can’t hide. She hears, at one point, “I think your sister is the loveliest woman I’ve ever known, in temperament and beauty, and I’m here for as long as she’ll have me.”

She doesn’t think she was supposed to hear that,

(although, she’ll wonder later that night if, purposefully, Barry had said it loud enough for her to do so).

Still, she does, whether he meant for her to or not. And she grapples with it for a moment. Because he’s said something similar before. He’s told her that he’s whipped and that he likes her and that he wants. The reality is: she’s wondered if it were true. She knows better than anyone the power of words, how they’re used to not only tell stories, but to tell lies, to manipulate, to coerce. And of course she doesn’t think that Barry would do any of those things, but she’d thought that his words had been just...words, pretty things to make her feel good.

(Okay, so maybe that it’s really true, either. But it’s been easier to take him at face value, to pen this story based on her own feelings, not always realizing that Barry’s just as much of a character here, that his dialogue matches the action, the imagery, foreshadowing whatever it is that’s really happening here.)

So saying this to her brother, however, privately and in the seriousness she knows is accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed mouth...well, that crystalizes it for her. Her reaction, though unsurprising in its intensity (because everything about this with him has been intense), is abrupt. Her entire body seizes up with, god, feeling, with emotions she’s been, apparently, cultivating since the moment he asked her to dance. She goes hot at the same time that she physically shivers, with her own words unspoken, with feelings suddenly realized, with raw passion, with all you gotta do is say yes; don't deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby; open up your mind and just rest; i'm about to let you know, you make me so...

She silently downs the rest of her drink, looking around the room to see if anyone has noticed her eyes darting to and fro, literally on the edge of a breakdown. She takes a big breath and wonders what she should do about this inconvenient revelation.

Barry turns to her, that same soft smile on his face. But, noticing what he perceives as her solemnity, he pulls from his conversation and slides his hand up her thigh and over her hip to settle on her waist. Her skin tingles at his touch.

“You alright? You’re not talking much.”

“Yeah,” she nods, lips turning up, hoping he can’t see the slight bit of panic she’s feeling. “Yeah. You? Surviving the interrogation?”

“They haven’t thrown me out yet, so I think so.”

She gives him a quiet laugh. But then he goes a little thoughtful too, licking his lips and staring at her. He reaches out to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and then he keeps his hand on her, running along the side of her face, down until he’s holding her by the back of her neck, his thumb still rubbing along the apples of her cheeks. He doesn’t look away, blinking as if to steady her features.

“What?” she questions, a bit nervously, wondering if he can see what she’s just realized in her features. He always looks at her as if he can, as if he can read her. He doesn’t speak for a moment, then,

“You’re really pretty.”

Iris scrunches her nose a little. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, I just… you seem kind of far in your head right now and I know that compliments always make you blink back into the moment.” He gives a small grin. “Or make you blush.”

“I’m Black,” she counters. “I don’t blush.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin widening. “Maybe you don’t get red like me, but you blush.” He runs his thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the plump curve. “Your eyes look sort of blown and you bite this lip and,” he leans closer, speaking close to her ear, “I can practically see your breathing get deeper.”

Iris decides that it’s only because of his thumb on her mouth that she doesn’t complete each of these steps he’s outlined. Instead, she circles her hand around his wrist and gives him a frown against his thumb.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here,” she reveals. “You do make me blush, just like you said, but I feel like you’re always so, so…”

She lets the sentiment taper off, not wanting to truly acknowledge that she feels like she’s the one stepping out of her comfort zone, the one hanging off the ledge. But he chuckles, the sound connoting more incredulity than humor.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Her brows furrow, briefly confused. “Bear…”

“Do you think I’m composed, Iris?”

She snaps back, not liking his tone. “Well you’re always so goddamn smug and…”

His kiss cuts her off. Somehow, he’s still mindful of the mixed company, she assumes, because it’s a kiss like earlier: with some tongue, but still quick and nothing particularly distasteful. Even still, she tries to chase after him, to deepen the kiss, because she really just can’t help it where he’s concerned. When he pulls back, he resumes running his thumb along her mouth, and she knows that her lipstick is officially fucked.

“I’m not composed, Iris,” he tells her, eyes darting across her face. He, at least, lowers his voice so that they aren’t making a scene. “I’m, literally, a fucking mess around you. I don’t know, I'm just trying to make you think I’m confident, so you don’t think I’m too boring or, or before you realize that there’s someone better out there for you.”

He holds her gaze, blue-green eyes keeping her captive. It’s all she can do to keep from falling into him, from blurting out her newfound revelation. It’s all she can do to not weep at the fact that he’s apparently in this too, that she isn’t the only one losing her shit right now.

“Iris, you asked me what I was doing to you. And I told you it’s nothing that you aren’t doing to me. And that’s the truth. Whatever you got, I'm probably so far past that already.”

The words get stuck, then, the song that’s been playing in her head since she saw him this evening, since she’s thought of what it would be like to be desired by someone like this, since she was a little girl dreaming, the sound like loving you has taken time, take time; but I always knew you could be mine, the melody one that skips in tune with her heart every time Barry makes these grand declarations like he’s just done.

He gives her another peck on the mouth, likely figuring that she’s lost all mental function. He isn’t wrong, and when Wally calls for his attention again, he gives her one more caress before turning back to him.

Still dazed, Iris turns and locks eyes with Linda who’s gazing at her in concern.

“You okay, Iris?” She eyes Barry over her shoulder. “That seemed pretty intense.”

“Can we talk?” Because Linda and Dan had been like this, enamored with each other. And Iris just wants to get it right. “Not right now, but later in the week?”

Linda nods. “Yeah, okay. Of course we can.” She takes a hold of both of Iris’s hands and gives a good squeeze. “But I see you retreating right now. Don’t. We’ll talk later, but don’t space out here. Stay in this moment; stay in this feeling.”

She looks up at her best friend. Iris can admit that she thought she knew love. She’s seen it in others, she’s written about it. But feeling it, at least what she thinks might be the beginning of it, is overwhelming. So she attempts to do as her friend asks and stay in the moment.

The parents leave around 10, with strict instructions to not tear apart the restaurant. The Parks have offered the place ‘til about 1, likely even later. With the tables pushed back, white strobe lights turned on, and the DJ from CCU already set up, the place could almost be mistaken for a club. More of Wally’s friends, or at least, more people he knows from school, those who weren’t invited to the more intimate dinner part of the night, start to file in and an off-duty cop that their dad has hired is manning the door. Iris’s 21st birthday had consisted of her own dinner at Golden’s and a night out at some bar downtown, but she thinks that Wally has got the right idea, making it more exclusive like this.

In an effort to “stay in the moment” (and not freak out about the fact that she’s officially acknowledged that she’s fallen into some sort of infatuation with Barry Allen), Iris orders her second of the birthday cocktail and sits down at the bar alongside Dan and Linda to watch the younger adults dance to the music. A tall woman in a pretty gold dress has a camera looped around her neck and is taking pictures of her classmates, all in their white, gold, or black party outfits. She’d gotten a few family portraits earlier, some of Linda and Iris, and one of Barry and Iris that had been meant to be pretty simple, them standing next to each other with Iris leaned in close, Barry holding on to her waist. But he’s standing just slightly behind her, with his big hand spread over her hip, and he’s looking down at her as she smiles softly for the camera. The photographer had shown them the photo after and it was the first time she had seen them together, the first time she can maybe see what he means when he tells her that he’s so far past wherever she is right now. But, and Iris can see it now, is feeling it now: he may not be as far past her as he thinks.

Now, Linda and Iris are the de facto chaperones for the night, a task that Linda is taking seriously as she hops up every few minutes to make sure no one is tearing up her parents’ place. Barry, who’d been talking to her dad before he left, strolls over to her, expression calm. He walks right into her, positioning himself between her legs, planting his hands right on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Iris, in the process of looping her arm around his neck, pulls back until only her hand is circling his throat. “What are you sorry for?”

“I told you that I would,” he waves a hand as he tries to find his words, “that I would give you the time that you need. And I told myself that I would take it easy, that I wouldn’t pressure you. But I think earlier, I, I was…”

“Wait, no.” She shakes her head, stopping him. She has to lean in closer, because the DJ has just started up and the music is loud in the relatively small space, in addition to her currently drunk brother and his friends singing along loudly to the song. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means. This is, this is new to me, and I’m just...”

He nods slowly when she trails off, flicking his pink tongue out to swipe across his mouth. Iris follows the action, eyes darting up when his lips start to curve up.

“I’m here until you figure it out.” He steps closer, closing the distance between them. Her legs wrap around his waist automatically, hands sliding up until they’re holding onto her hips. “And in the meantime, we can get a little tipsy and make out like we’re 21 again.”

“Oh, so you did a lot of drunk making out at 21?”

His eyes go big. “Of course not. Just maybe once or twice, you know.” He taps her hip. “And with no one as pretty as you.”

Iris barks out a laugh. “Nice save.”

He grins wide. “Yeah. I thought so too.”

He orders another drink too, and Allegra smirks at the both of them, her version of a smile, as she sets their drinks down.

Iris grabs her drink and raises the glass. “Let’s toast.”

“Okay,” Barry agrees. “What are we toasting to?”

“New relationships?” she tries.

“Sure,” he nods. “And to figuring it out.”

They clink glasses.

She doesn’t know how long it takes Barry to get her alone in a dark corner, grinding on one another to the music. They sit at the bar for a little while longer, until they finish their cocktails. They order another, though Iris asks for more of whatever mixers are being used than champagne. They don’t try to talk much since they can’t really hear one another without shouting at the other. Instead, they watch the younger crowd dance for a while. Iris turns her chair all the way around so that she can keep an eye, and Barry sits down beside her. He’s turned to the side so that he can crowd her, legs wide, both of his hands touching her.

At one point, Linda stands up and walks through the crowd in her tall black strappy heels and leather pants. She straightens the sheer white blouse she’s got tucked into her pants and grabs the microphone from the DJ.

“Alright,” she starts amidst groans from the crowd when the music is cut. “Oh hush it.” She searches out the crowd until she finds Wally and then she smiles at him. “So Iris and I really want to thank you all for coming out tonight; she’s not up here because speaking in front of crowds isn’t really her thing, but I know I speak for us both when I say that we’re so happy to celebrate my honorary baby brother. Get drunk, but don’t forget to tip the bartender. Have fun, but not enough that you tear my parents’ shit up. And as we’re drinking and dancing, let’s remember the beautiful man that we’re here to love on. I’m so incredibly lucky that you let me into your life when I made my way into Iris’s. Happy birthday and I love you, Wally.”

Wally blows a kiss at Linda and then turns to catch Iris’s eyes. She sees the sheen of unshed tears in Wally’s and he mouths an “I love you” at her that she immediately mouths back. Up front, Linda starts to move away from the mic and then comes back. “And one round of shots on me!”

The music starts back up and the partiers get back into the groove. Iris and Barry sit for moments longer, until the music changes to something lower, sultrier, the lyrics seductive, i-i recognize the butterflies inside me, ah; sense is gonna be made tonight, tonight; all you gotta do is say yes, the beat one that she can feel in every part of her. Barry must feel it too.

“Dance with me,” he requests, standing, and she nods, taking his hand and following him out. He finds them a spot off to the opposite end of the DJ, further away from where the crowd of dancers have also begun to pair off, to fall victim to the beat of this song. Barry stands with his back against the wall, near where a curtain hangs shadowed from the others, and he turns Iris until her ass is pressed firmly against his front.

She begins to rock, winding her hips in easy circles, letting her body learn the rhythm of the song, all you gotta do is say yes, letting her body get lost in the music, lost in the crooned commands as the artists sing, don’t deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby. He matches her, swaying with her, touching on her as he does. He holds onto her, one hand pressed just beneath her breasts, the other right above her pelvis. She lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, wrapping her arm behind her around his neck. Barry leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth, with his tongue, sucking on her.

“Hmmm,” she purrs, grinding back against him, humming along, open up your mind and just rest; i’m about to let you know that you make me so, so...

“I’ve been watching you,” Barry tells her, whispering it into her ear over the music. “In this dress all fucking night. Do you know what it’s been doing to me?”

She shakes her head in response to his question.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” he responds. “Wally’s little friends have been watching you, probably wanting to touch you like I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

She doesn’t stop dancing, hips moving slow to one side, slower to the other, Barry moving with her. He grinds behind her, holding her tight against him. She can feel him start to swell against her ass and she closes her eyes at the feeling, at the sound of his voice, rough and arousal-soaked, speaking in her ear.

“You walked up to me on the street with this leg out.” He rubs down as much of her thigh as he can reach and then back up. “Your skin glowing and that sexy mouth of yours smiling at me.”

He tips his fingers back up her thigh and he reaches under her dress and across her pelvis. Her legs spread as she bends her knees, still in time to the music, but it gives him more access. The panties she’s got on are black and high cut, and Barry caresses her bare bikini line. Her grip tightens on his neck, bringing them even closer, making it easier to slide his fingers even further into her panties.

“Barry,” she whispers, and she knows he can’t hear her. But he doesn’t need to because he taps her on her pelvis, his longest finger catching on her clit.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna finger fuck you out here.”

Iris realizes, as he says it, that maybe she wouldn’t hate it; because the singers are saying, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, and he does, make her so so so...and she’s feeling it, feeling him, wondering what people might see if they looked over, wondering why the thought of it makes her stomach clench, a little in embarrassment, a little more in something that makes the clench move lower, her sex clamping around where she wants his fingers, where she wants his dick.

She turns, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. It gets deep fast, with Iris licking into Barry’s mouth and Barry returning her kiss with fervor. She grips at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he reaches down, gripping a firm handful of her ass to bring her closer. She moans into his mouth, catching his answering groan.

She pulls back. “Come with me.”

She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd. No one is paying much attention to them; Wally is still in the middle of the floor, dancing against a tall good looking dark-skinned man. Linda is out there too, Dan dancing his normal one-two step move as Linda leans close to him, her arms looped around his neck. Iris takes Barry to the back, down the hall that leads past the kitchen. The bathrooms are there, and Iris checks to make sure no one is coming before she pushes through the door and leads him inside. She takes him to the last and the largest of the three stalls, past the three gold circular mirrors above clean white sinks; her shoes are loud on the black marble floors.

“You know,” Barry says as she locks the stall door behind her. He grabs for her, clutching her hand. “You claimed it was me who got you to do stuff like this, but you brought me back here.”

She lifts her eyebrow at him, even as she moves past him to lean against the wall. “You saying you don’t want me in here?”

She positions herself so that her leg is peeking out from the long slit in her dress. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

Except maybe she does.

The weight of her earlier revelation sits heavy on her, and the song that’s been playing, the you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sits just as heavy, pushing on her thighs, and on her heart too; and Iris needs to do something with it, needs to let go of some of this feeling, to get out the parts that might start to be too much, that are already beginning to flood her, so that she can make sense of what’s really there.

So she looks Barry in the eye, runs her manicured nails over her throat, down through her cleavage, over her belly until she can touch at the top of her thigh. She opens the skirt, showing him the panties he’d been playing with earlier, the lace around her waist, the thin fabric that shows exactly what it’s supposed to be covering.

“Bear?”

He’s over to her in two long strides. He plants both of his hands on the wall behind her, crowding her.

“I want you wherever you want me,” he tells her. “On your couch, on a blanket in the woods, in as many places in this restaurant as you’ll let me fuck you in.”

He licks his lips, but he doesn’t move to touch her. Instead, he thrusts his hips against her so that she can feel him, hard and solid against her pelvis.

“This is what you do to me, baby. I think about you and I’m like this.” He pushes against her one more time and then tells her to “turn around.”

She does. And the next few moments are like something out of a film, how rushed they are, how passionate. He presses her against the wall and touches her as he rubs his dick on her ass, slipping his hand into the top of her dress to play with her breasts. Her bra is made of the same thin material as her panties and he alternates between squeezing the whole of her breast and then pinching at the nipples, and then moving to the other to do more of the same. He kisses her wherever his mouth catches her: in her hair, on her cheek, on her shoulders when her dress starts to slide. They’re both breathing heavily; Iris is grinding back onto Barry where he’s so goddamn hard behind her, his sex swollen and his chest covering her. Her hands are clenching and unclenching into fists as she bangs lightly on the wall, moaning deep in her throat, humming her pleasure, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so...

Iris hears the clank of his belt unbuckling. And her pussy is ready for him, slick and throbbing as she looks behind her to see him shoving his pants past his knees, gripping and then tearing open a condom he’s gotten from somewhere, caressing his own thick dick as he rolls it on. He leans over and kisses her, wet and sloppy, holding her in this position until he’s done devouring her mouth. Then he turns her back to the wall and lifts her dress, draping it above her waist. The cool air hits her heated flesh, and that contact, and Barry’s fingers spreading her thighs, and Barry pushing her panties to the side, rubbing along her slit to make sure she’s ready for him, it makes her moan loud and long.

Barry pushing into her cuts her off.

Her heels put her at the perfect height to arch her back into him, to take him in.

“Shit, Iris,” he murmurs. He pulls out, pushes back in, pulls out to the tip, pushes back in, and Iris knocks her forehead against the wall. “All the time,” he tells her, “I, I think about being in this pussy all the time.”

Her pussy opens for him, when he says that, letting him in deeper. Barry finds a rhythm, short strokes first, shallow and brief; and then longer strokes that bury him in, that smacks his pelvis against her ass. She loves the feel of him behind her, even if she misses being able to touch him, but the feel of his kissing on her and touching on her and fucking so hard into her more than makes up for it.

And then the door opens. Iris hears the music grow louder for several seconds and the unsteady clack of multiple pairs of heels and the drunken laughter of the women walking.

Iris whimpers, the sound turning into a moan because Barry doesn’t stop, just keeps riding her, gripping her waist tight. She holds in the moan she wants to let out, holds in how much she wants to slap her hand against the wall since she can’t. Barry angles himself closer to her.

“I think you like it, Iris,” he murmurs into her ear. “As soon as that door opened, you got wetter, baby.”

“Ahhh,” she breathes heavily as he pumps into her.

“You like it when you could get caught, huh? When someone might hear you?”

Iris shuts her eyes tight, shakes her head, and then bites down on her lip to keep from yelling out. But he feels so good, so thick and hard, and the feeling’s curling thick in her belly, thicker in her walls quivering around him. And he might not necessarily be wrong, that she likes it, the possibility of being caught, the fact that she could be heard. The loud laughter she’d heard when the door opened has quieted to softer giggles now; maybe they think she’s so into this that she doesn’t notice that the door never opened again, but they’re still there, amused by what’s happening. And from the way she keeps tightening on Barry’s dick, the way she’s pushing back against him, harder and harder, she’s more than into this.

“No? You don’t like this?” Barry questions and he shifts her dress even higher up her waist, pressing her harder into the wall.

“Fuck,” she grunts at the contact.

He gives a short, breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry. I like it too.” He reaches up and pulls her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t hold back. Let them hear you. Louder, baby.” He keeps rocking into her, as he moves that same hand down her chin, down the line of her neck, until he wraps a hand around the base of her throat. “Moan for me louder. Let them know who’s fucking you in here, baby.”

“Oohhh, yes,” she moans, only a touch louder.

He rubs a hand over her exposed ass cheek, softly, reverently. And then he pulls her hand back and smacks her hard.

“Barryyyyy!” She yells. Her rhythm falters and her head falls back against his shoulder. The arch in her back deepens and it pushes him even deeper.

“Just like that,” Barry groans.

“Damn,” she hears one of the girls in the bathroom breathe.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” another says.

“After I’m done texting Chris to see if I can come over after this.”

There is another round of laughs and Barry laughs again against her throat. “They like what I’m doing to you too.”

There’s a light thin layer of sweat on her skin, the sheen on her face and her chest, down her thighs. She’s wet, (god, she always gets so wet with him), and she’s dripping out around his dick. Her dress is probably going to be ruined.

But none of that matters. All that does is the sensations she’s feeling. Sex with Barry always takes up every one of her senses, and this is no different: she can taste the champagne still on her tongue, the mint from his when he’d kissed her; she can smell the citrus of the lemongrass on his skin, the rose water on her own, the heady scent of their arousal filling her nostrils; she can’t physically see much, with her eyes constantly shut tight, but she can picture it, picture them, his pants down at his ankles, legs as wide as they can go, her dress hiked up over her hips, the long length of him sliding in and out of her soaked pussy from behind; the feel of her breasts pressed into the cool wall, his fingers pressed into her throat, her hand clutching onto that same wrist; the soft sound of their breathing, the girls speaking softly, the music still playing, matching her cries, singing ah, ah, yea-yeah, yeah, yea-yeah; oh right there, right there, right there; right there, right there; right there, oh, oh, mm, mmm.

“Tell me what you want, Iris,” Barry groans. “Tell me, tell them, fuck, baby…”

“Harder,” she says, wanting to come, needing him to get her there. “Harder, Bear, fuck me…”

He does. He shifts again so that he can push all the way into her, riding her ass, and he long strokes into her, knocking against something that makes her quiver, harder and harder, a little bit faster, but always good, so good, so good, so, so, so…

“Barry.” Her orgasm hits her just as hard as he’s been doing. She doesn’t even realize it’s coming, not until her entire body seizes up, even her toes curl in her shoes, and she pushes back on Barry, squeezing him tight. It triggers his own and he grips her waist as he spills into her, the feel of his throbbing dick prolonging her climax, making her fall back into him until she’s completely spent.

“Did you, uh, do a lot of this when you were 21 and tipsy making out?”

Iris stands against the wall of the stall, looking down at her dress for stains, holding her underwear in her hands because she couldn’t stand the wet feel of them on her. The bathroom is quiet now, save for the faint music still coming from the front. She knows that they should hurry before someone else comes in, but she can’t really move yet.

Barry laughs as he shoves himself back into his pants and buckles back up. He’s already tied the condom up and flushed it down the toilet.

“God, no. The most I could get was a little over the shirt boob action.”

Iris shakes her head, a little fondly. “Please never say boob action again.”

“No?” He rubs his hand down the front of his sweater. “That’s not sexy?”

Iris shakes her head again as he walks back over to her. “Not even a little bit. That’s probably why you weren’t getting any.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve upped my game now.”

Iris laughs. “You’ve upped your game?”

He nods, a goofy little grin on his face. He stops in front of her and takes one of her hands in his.

“Yeah. We did a little dancing, a little touching.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grabs at the panties in her hand, holding them up. “And I got you to fuck me in a bathroom.”

“Oh?” Iris watches as he puts the panties into his pockets. “You got me to fuck you?” She looks down at herself, and then sticks her leg out further. The slit of this dress, the shoes, the way the dress drapes her frame is undoubtedly a tongue-tier. Barry nods, swallows, and meets her gaze again, those eyes doing that graying thing she’s found she loves.

“Y-yeah. We can, uh, we can share the credit.”

Iris laughs out loud at that. “Come on,” she squeezes his hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get out of here. We’re already gonna have to sneak out. What if those girls tell Wally? I can’t believe you had me doing all that.”

They leave the bathroom stall, heading for the door.

“It’s my game,” Barry replies, and Iris hides her laughter as they slip back into the party.

She looks for Wally to tell him that she’s leaving. Luckily, he’s at the bar, laughing with Allegra and the man he was dancing with earlier.

“Iris!” he shouts when he sees her. “Barry!”

Iris laughs as she steps into his open arms. “Are you having a good time, baby?”

“I’m having the best time.” He squeezes her. “I bet you are too.”

He looks over her shoulder at Barry and when she turns too, she sees a bit of color in his cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” she deflects.

Wally’s shrug is not at all sly. “I heard that someone was in the ladies’ room screaming out ‘Barry.’” He winks at Barry who goes even redder. “You should probably be glad Xuan and Theo think of you as a daughter.”

She rolls her eyes, even as she turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “We just came to tell you that we’re leaving. I’ve got class in the morning.”

“Of course,” Wally says, nodding. “And you’re both probably tired.”

“Okay, bye,” Iris starts to move out of his arms.

Wally laughs and tightens his arms around her. “I’m only kidding, big sis.” Then his smile turns softer and he casts another glance at Barry, before reaching down and cupping her cheek.

“This man is gone over you, Iris,” he says softly. “And I’m so happy for you. Nobody I know deserves a love like this more than you do.”

Iris gives him a smile and then another quick hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls Barry in for a hug. “So good to officially meet you.”

“You too, man.”

And with that, Barry takes her hand and leads him out, and Iris follows beside him, overcome with what she’s feeling for him. She’d thought the sex might give her some space to think, but it’s only really just heightened it. They are still in the rising action of this story, gliding higher and higher on a diagram, climbing towards a climax she’s becoming excited to experience.

She’s only scared of what might happen when they come down from it.

All you gotta do is say yes

(Don't deny what you feel, let me)

[imalwaysintune]

It Was Never A Choice At All

He would always come back to Elias. No matter what happens to the world, he would always choose Elias.

Domestic LonelyEyes because I can. This one was really fun to write, and the first soft one I’ve written in awhile. If you guys have request ideas, please hit up my ask box! I’m almost on emptyyyy

Story under cut! Enjoy!

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

When Peter opened the door, he didn’t know what he’d expected.

It certainly wasn’t streamers and balloons and cake though.

“Peter! You’re finally home, I expected you to get back hours ago. The alcohol’s mostly gone by now but I’m sure there’s some lying around for you somewhere,” Elias ran up to Peter before he even had the chance to close the front door.

Peter was burly, at least a foot taller than Elias and a lot heavier, yet the tiny man nearly knocked Peter off his feet with the force of his embrace. Elias’ arms came to rest around Peter’s neck, and as he spoke, Peter could smell the alcohol wafting from his lover’s mouth.

Peter only sighed and wrapped his arms around Elias, burying his head into the man’s warm neck.

“What is all this for, Elias?” Peter’s voice was muffled as he spoke, not willing to draw himself away from the warmth that radiated from his darling Elias.

Elias wiggled in Peter’s arms until he fell onto the floor, landing squarely on his butt bone. A small ‘ow’ was heard before he got up and beamed at Peter with his wicked smirk.

“I threw you a birthday party of course! I knew you would never actually tell me when your birthday was, so I rooted in your head to learn the answer,” Elias was tripping over his own words as he made his way to the center of their living room where a makeshift table was set up. 

A cake resided on top of it, with the words “Happy Birthday Big Man” written poorly across the top. Peter had the strangest urge to laugh, and was about to as Elias about it when the man seemed to read his mind.

“I made the cake myself. You know, I haven’t baked for at least a century, so doing this was actually quite fun! You know Peter, I think we should bake more often together,” Before Peter even had a chance to speak, Elias was grabbing the large knife that sat next to the cake. It slid through the cake easily, with Elias handling the knife with expert precision given his intoxicated state.

Peter only watched as Elias served two slices of cake. “One for you, one for me. I hope you like it Peter, I made it especially for you.”

Peter grabbed the plate with hesitation and picked up one of the many golden forks on the table. It was dwarfed in his large hand, but he didn’t really mind.

He took a bite of the cake as his eyes rolled into the back of his head at the sight of the intoxicated Elias. He was never one to get drunk, so it was still a shock every time, mostly because of how vibrant he became each time.

The cake had actually been pretty good, much to the dismay of Peter. Elias ran around the table and threw his arms around Peter yet again, somehow ecstatic that Peter had actually enjoyed the desert.

The pair made their way to the living room once finished with the cake, and Peter had managed to find himself a full bottle of whiskey amongst all the empty bottles of alcohol in the kitchen. 

As Elias popped himself on the couch, he looked up at Peter and smiled a dazzling smile that almost caught Peter off guard. Elias so rarely smiled, especially at him. His feelings were very reserved, and it wasn’t often he let Peter break down the walls that had been built through the many centuries.

Peter stood above Elias, bulking and strong, and stroked one finger beneath his lover’s chin. Elias shuddered and wrapped his hand gently around Peter’s wrist, tugging him gently towards the couch.

Peter landed on top of Elias, his body leaning very heavily on the other mans. Elias was strong, Peter knew. He could handle it.

“I invited everyone from the Institute to come,” Elias said quietly, twirling a piece of Peter’s hair around his finger. “They all declined, but... I don’t think I can blame them.”

Peter looked at Elias hard. To his surprise, he looked sad. Elias was still staring at his hand in Peter’s hair, his gaze purposely avoiding the man above him.

“Elias, it’s alright,” Peter responded, ducking his head down and once again burying himself in the warmth of his lover. He breathed out slowly and felt Elias shudder at the feeling. Peter only smiled to himself before planting a light kiss at the base of Elias’ neck.

He both felt and heard Elias release a breathy laugh, something else he didn’t often do. Elias was beautiful when he laughed, and Peter would give anything to be able to steal one of those annoying archivist’s tape recorders so that he could capture the laugh on tape and play it over and over again. 

Elias took the hand that had been messing with Peter’s hair and buried it completely within the fluffy mess. Peter smelled of salt-water and drift wood, a smell that had become associated with Elias as home.

Peter knew Elias never meant to fall in love. In some ways, he hadn’t either, but the man who was now mushed under him had just been too captivating. 

He had known Elias was only teasing him, and that he didn’t actually have any plans to form a legitimate relationship with Peter, but in the end, the sailor had won over the hard-ass.

And so here they were, cuddling on the couch, both drunk out of their minds and deeply in love with each other. Peter never thought that he would lead a domestic life, especially not with someone like Elias, yet against all odds here he was.

Peter sighed contentedly into Elias neck before drawing himself back slowly. He looked down at Elias with admiration as the man licked his lips.

Quickly, Peter ducked his head down and caught Elias’ tongue in between his teeth, and bit harshly at it. Elias let out something in between and squeal and a moan, before closing his mouth and squinting his eyes at Peter.

“Rude.”

“Nothing rude about it, darling.”

Peter leaned down slowly and connected his lips with Elias’, and he felt the breath from his lover as he sighed. Peter moved his hands to cup Elias’ face, feeling the stubble that grew there. It was unlike Elias to go a day without shaving, but he must have forgotten as he had set up the birthday party. 

Peter smiled against Elias’ mouth as he thought of the amount of work that he must have put into the planning and decorating. The house looked stunning with green and black streamers woven expertly along the banister and taped to the walls. 

Peter was usually very careful when it came to making decisions. But with Elias, it was no choice at all. He would always come back to Elias. No matter what happens to the world, he would always choose Elias.

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

Wowie wowie wow, I sure loved this one. I know Elias isn’t totally in character but at this point I don’t care lmao. If you would like to know where I’ve been writing wise, I’ve been writing a lot of stuff that I don’t trust to not get taken down on tumblr. (aka nsfw stuff lmao). Check out my ao3! And if you want, follow my Twitter too!

[foldingfittedsheets]

Locusts

This short story was prompted by the teacher setting up a toy fly, grasshopper, mech suit, and robot.

The desert could trick you. In the heat of the day, it could appear to be a wasteland, nothing moving. A busy day might involve a buzzard circling far overhead, coasting lazily on the thermals. Rocks hid many creatures waiting for night, but you’d never know they were there just by looking. But we knew better.

              “Are you sure they’re going to swarm here?” Saleh asked me.

              “I’m sure,” I repeated.

He didn’t look any more convinced, but he followed along behind me. I could hear him occasionally scuffing the foot of his mech shell ostentatiously.

“Stop radiating doubt at me, I can feel it. I’m telling you. The locusts swarm is coming, we’re heading right for it. Stop asking if I’m sure. You’re like a little kid asking if we’re there yet.”

“If you say so, Amina.”

I turned to glare at him and pointed toward the horizon. Barely visible against the heat haze was a fuzzy shadow. I gestured impatiently toward Saleh and pulled up my suit interface. He did the same and from our shoulders a huge gauzy spread of filament rose. We stood like two anemones under the stark sunlight and waited, the fibers from out back continuing to rise and spread. Soon the world was a haze as the thin tendrils floated gently in the still air across my vision. I could barely see my annoying little brother.

The locust swarm struck like lightning, blazing out no where and surrounding us. As they smacked into the filaments, they stuck. More and more of the long streamers came down coated with the voracious insects. It seemed like no time at all before the swarm passed, leaving Saleh and I with our loads. We flipped our switches, and the lines slowly drew back in, compressing as they came. The familiar crunching sound didn’t bother me anymore as the bugs were slowly reduced to powder.

“This was a pretty good haul, Amina. We should be set for protein flour for two months, judging by the weight.”

I gave him a smug look through my visor, and he rolled his eyes. We began trudging home, heavier than when we started. A lizard scuttled by my feet, and I watched it until it writhed under a bit of scrub brush and the desert was empty once more.

[caiuscassiuss]

sasaeng | l. taeyong (m)

DESCRIPTION: Someone’s obsessed, but it’s not who you think… In which an idol is completely, utterly, disgustingly obsessed with you.

Genre: stalker/ sasaeng + idol au angst | “romance” | psychological thriller WC: 15k Warnings: graphic smut (humping, masturbation, fingering, cum shot/creampie, preg kink), unhealthy obsession, drug addiction, graphic violence (depicted beating, poisoning), slight coercion

(⚠️Warning⚠️: This ain’t your regular idol au. There is drug addiction, body issues, unhealthy obsession, and whole lot of dark stuff, and that, if it triggers you in any way, DON’T READ THE BOOK. Also, the author does not condone ANY unhealthy behavior in this book in any way, shape or form. I AM NOT romanticizing stalking and obsession; I wanted to write this to explore a unique dynamic and twist to the Idol AU. This behavior is unhealthy and not normal, and please, seek help if this were to ever happen. Apologies if I have written any behavior unrealistically. ⚠️)

A gentle humming fills the bathroom as the shower is turned on. A female enters the shower, naked, and precedes to cleanse her body of the troubles and worries of the day.

Yet, the eye at the keyhole isn’t noticed. In fact, it will never be… if he has his way.

Shocked gasps come over the studio as, for the first time in history, two idol groups tied for 1st place on a Music Show. Every vote, every score was match for match. While celebratory confetti cannons and music blared pathetically in the background, the audience, the staff, the crew came to a standstill while the idols stood, frozen, on stage.

What were they supposed to do? There was only one trophy after all. Were they supposed to cheer? Boo? Scream?

The in-ear on Ong Seongwoo blared to life as the producer came to his senses.

“Quick! Congratulate both groups, I’ll just— fuck— how did we not see this coming—”

Seongwoo pasted a smile to his face and reanimated his lively and cheerful self. “Well, that’s was unexpected, but, congratulations to both NCT U and FEM for winning 1st place on this week’s broadcast of Music Core!”

Gradual clapping and cheers came from the crowd, which rose even louder as a crew member rushed onto stage carrying 2 trophies. The idols on stage slowly began to move, whispering and gossiping amongst themselves at this unexpected development.

The groups in question themselves were smiling but shooting confused and worried glances at each other. Was this supposed to happen? 

The crew member hurriedly passed one trophy into the slender fingers of Lee Taeyong, the leader of NCT U, and the other into the arms of Sunmi, the leader of FEM. They both regained posture and, while avoiding looking at each other, bowed. The other groups left in a flurry of confetti and streamers, while NCT and FEM stayed on stage.

Seongwoo furrowed his brows as he listened intently into his in-ear. He nodded, turned, then smiled broadly at the audience, not a single piece of his hair out of place of his signature comma hair style.

“We will be playing the winners’ songs in no certain order, thank you everyone!”

3 taps of a drumstick signaled the vocal-heavy and flowery track of FEM’s 2nd EP, “Halo”. NCT U politely took a step back as FEM flounced onto the middle, dazzling in the sparkling lights.

As lead vocalist Sunmi began to start her first line, her voice began to crack and tears were bubbling at the edge of her periphery. She choked out a tearful “sorry” and buried her face into the slim shoulders of your fellow member, Bolin, the main dancer. Both clung together like glue, clasping each other for comfort as the monumental accomplishment swept over them like a tidal wave.

Our 1st win, you thought, smiling slightly and wiping the tears off the edge of your vision. Our 1st win since our debut a year ago.

You were tapped on the shoulder and turned to see FEM’s main rapper, Bella, smirking and shoving the mic at you. You quickly realized that Sunmi was belting out the pre-chorus, and you got ready to sing the difficult chorus.

Lee Taeyong stood to the side, full of mixed emotions. Was it anger? Jealousy? Indignancy? His light blond hair hung around the the bony structure of his face, highlighting his slight gauntness. He stared at FEM, not knowing what to feel until he saw her.

It was some damned drug trip, wasn’t it? Because there was no way the spotlight rested solely on her, as sobs came out of her pretty pink lips while she laughed in joy. Her silky dress flowed around her like it was upheld by a heavenly wind, in tune with the concept her company presented her as.

A goddess.

A goddess of heaven and earth.

Taeyong could only stare like he was a starved man, drinking in the sight like seeing an oasis in the middle of a dry, dry desert. His tinted lips hung open as his gaze remained solely on the vision she presented.

The longer he saw, the more he saw her. A goddess in group of harpies, yet, so insecure and hurt. Was this what it felt like when Pygmalion laid eyes on Galatea? The way Hades saw Persephone?

His heart stuttered in his chest and he felt like he couldn’t breath.

A goddess for him and himself.

1 Year Ago

“I’ll lead you, I’m the boss! I move you, I’m the player!” The heavy bass and domineering synths echoed throughout the gymnasium, thousands of green light sticks moving in unison to the catchy beat. It was quite a sight to see 60,000 plus green sticks fill the gigantic Seoul Olympic Stadium in the night in expansive 360 degree seating.

A chorus of male, synth voices harmonized together for the outro, the group of seven in a triangle formation broadcasted on gigantic screens. The crowd let out thunderous roar, shouting the fan-chants in order.

“Taeyong! Doyoung!”

The 7 men in tailored army suits, silver chains glinting as they swung around from the sheer force the men were putting into their movements. The managing crew of the concert watched the men through their many screens, communicating through headsets.

“On the count of three, release the stage door, alright?”

“Jaehyun! WinWin!”

The flashing lights of the monitor played over the director’s passive face.

“One.”

“Jungwoo! Lucas! Markeu!”

“Two.”

The crew member reached out the arm to turn his monitor closer. His sleeve brushed against the control board, brushing against a certain switch.

“NCT!”

The lead figure, glaringly obvious with his blood red hair in the middle of the formation, suddenly disappeared from screen. From the tops of the stands, the audience could see the large gaping hole slightly off to the left of the stage.

Murmurs and gasps filled the stadium as the 6 remaining figures broke formation to swarm around the gaping hole. Mark, WinWin, and Doyoung  knelt down near the hole while Jaehyun and Jungwoo looked down at the stage sidelines, visibly panicking on the billboard screens. Lucas frowned as he pulled his in-ear closer, his full lips pursed while listening to the crew’s directions.

2 staff members in “NEO CULTURE TECH: LUCID DREAM” t-shirts climbed up to the stage from the bottom ground, guiding the anxious members off the stage.

Cries and shouts arose from the worried crowd. All lights shut off, and the clamors gradually grew louder and louder until the overhead speaker blared to life.

“Everyone, we are sorry for the inconvenience.”

Under the jungle of metal bars and concrete, the red-haired man groaned in pain. His leg was twisted awkwardly, having caught on a metal bar his high fall down. Through his tears, he looked a few feet up to see Mark’s and WinWin’s worried faces peering down at him.

“Due to the early releasing of the stage platforms, Lee Taeyong fell through the hole and we are currently awaiting his status.”

A swarm of team members maneuvered through the concrete structures, crouching around his figure. The remaining NCT members, bar the BOSS members from the stage, ran to his position, and peeked from behind the crew.

“Taeyong-hyung!” Chenle’s high voice shouted, his face the pallor of white as anxiety ran through all members present. Johnny and Jeno clutched onto him tightly, their mouths parted in shock and fear for the pillar of NCT.

A young woman looked up at the rest of the crew, her eyes wide.

“Quick, get an ambulance! He’s broken his leg and I can see blood!”

“Lee Taeyong, leader of top boy group NCT, injured at Seoul Concert!”

“World Group NCT, leader Lee Taeyong breaks his leg at concert!”

“NCT leader Lee Taeyong hospitalized after serious accident at Seoul concert!”

“NCT Taeyong rushed to ER for a broken leg after stage accident at concert!”

“Global Boy Group NCT: leader Lee Taeyong taken off roster for first leg of NCT world tour due to an accident at kick-off concert!”

“NCT TOP VISUAL TAEYONG UNABLE TO PARTICIPATE IN THE FIRST LEG OF NCT’S 20- CITY WORLD TOUR AFTER ACCIDENT AT SEOUL CONCERT!”

You opened your eyes, hearing the air conditioning and the warm lights of your dorm room. You could hear the hum of the television screen from the living room and the smell of bulgogi from the kitchen.

You yawned, stretching your arms and padded off to the kitchen, wrapping a furry robe around yourself. You saw through your bleary vision your group’s leader and proclaimed “omma” Sunmi stirring something on the oven, her curvy figure in a tank top and leggings. Sulhee and Boram were recumbent on the couch, their hair up in towels as they chatted casually.

“Good morning, everyone,” you smiled tiredly. It had been a late night practicing.

“Y/N.” Sunmi smiled at you.

“Unni!” Bella and Lin cheered, rising from their places on the couch.

You grinned at their boundless energy. Bella and Bolin were the same age, younger than you and Sunmi. You called them your “happy little flowers” and their room “the flower garden”, which they always laughed at.

“Hi, my lovely juniors. How are you~?” you giggled, taking a seat at the breakfast table.

“We have a break day today! Isn’t that great?” Bella wriggled into the seat adjacent from you while smiling wildly.

“We’re totally free Yeday!” Bolin cheered in her accented Korean, a bit of her native Chinese slipping through.

“Today, not “yeday”, Bolin. Good job though, you’re improving very well,” Sunmi’s calm voice entered your conversation. “Also, we’re not totally free. We just get to spend the day in the dorm.”

“Why do you have to ruin my thunder?” Bella whined, pouting her lips and her infamous “aegyo” face that many a show host melted for.

“That’s reality, sweetie,” you smiled at Bella.

The four of you chatted over the table, drinking tea and coffee as the noon sun began to peak through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your dorm. You all began to gradually migrate to the couch area, your group’s favorite place to hang-out and chat when resting.

“Wah, look at them!”

At Bella’s shout, you craned your head to look at the television monitor and saw the rerun of Music Bank flashing on screen. This part, however, displayed the famous NCT U members dancing to their latest hit song.

At the lead of the dance was a handsome man in light blond hair.

Lee Taeyong.

This was his first time performing on stage in a year, and he looked like he came back better than ever. He looked so fierce, his sharp features dominating everyone’s attention including yours. His moves were so sharp and clean that you couldn’t help but be mesmerized.

You vaguely remembered the news when he first broke his leg at the concert a year ago. Back then, you felt a huge amount of pity but also a huge amount of annoyance, as his injury caused a media frenzy that overshadowed your debut. NCT had been on top of the world then. The SM group broke records in Japan, China, and Korea and had been reaching into the European and South American markets successfully due to a flood of show appearances and concerts. While you never thought the whole world-domination thing would work, NCT seemed like they were well on their way to make it happen. 

They still were on top of the world. NCT was now a household name all around the globe, but they had lost their shining star for a good while.

“NCT Taeyong? Yeah, he may be handsome and all, I just… have a bad feeling about him. Not an auspicious guy,” Sunmi murmured, looking suspiciously at the screen.

Bolin snorted. “You sound like my grandma who lives in the province. “Oh, you have such a lucky nose Bolin-ah!”” she mimicked her grandmother, hunching over for the effect.

Bella and you burst into laughter, almost knocking over your drinks in the process.

Still, you couldn’t get his face out of your mind. Watching, staring, boring…

…into your soul.

Taeyong stumbled into the bathroom at 3 AM, shaking greatly and noisily opened the bathroom cabinet. He slammed the orange bottle onto the sink top and the sound of rattling pills filled the bathroom.

OXYCONTIN

Pain Killer Medication

Prescribed for LEE TAEYONG

1 PILL PER DAY

Well, it’s his third today.

Taeyong knocked back the pill with a glass of water, sitting on the ground with his head in hands until the shaking went away. Grimacing, he slowly got up on weak legs, supporting himself on the sink as he stared into his reflection.

The unnatural sharpness. The gaunt hollows of his cheeks. The deep dark circles. The blood-shot eyes.

The face of handsome, living death stared back at him in the mirror. He couldn’t even remember how he looked like a year ago, when he was fresh-faced and healthy.

Ever since the accident happened.

Since that day, everything was ruined. His fans, NCTzens, his favorite people in the world and the people keeping him going— he couldn’t even see them because of the damned injury. He couldn’t perform, couldn’t sing, couldn’t dance— all he could do was sit in his parent’s house, watching the videos of his members enjoying life while he hoped and prayed this injury wouldn’t put him out of commission for life.

Even when he could perform with them on the last leg of the tour, he was on a chair. Helpless. Unable to perform. Invalid.

The pain medication the doctor prescribed helped. It shut away his pain, physical and mental, and let him feel alive again. He felt like he was performing, singing, and fucking just in one pill. Slowly, his dosage decreased and he felt helpless, resorting to lying about his pain to the doctor to get those fucking pills.

And it turned him into this. A reflection of what he had been in the past. Fuck, how had it gotten this far? He hadn’t even looked this gaunt and pale during Boss and Baby Don’t Stop. He couldn’t even face his members without them looking at him like he was to be pitied. Like an injured animal, they had to take care of him instead of him taking care of them.

He padded quietly down the hall, trying not to wake any of the tired, sleeping members from yesterday’s music show. He creaked open the door to his and Johnny’s room, sighing quietly in relief as he realized Johnny was fast asleep and snoring. The only sounds heard was the puffs of the air humidifier in the room and the regular sounds of urban life.

Settling onto his bed, reaching for his handphone. The artificial light lit up the room before he hurriedly turned it down until it only cast a slight glow on his face.

Taeyong scrolled through the hundreds of pictures he had saved of you, whether it be from performances to press releases and more. It was like he didn’t feel the burning and incessant call of the pills in a tiny orange bottle whenever he focused on solely you, lost in your smile and in your eyes. He smiled softly at your simple pre-debut photos, and smirked when he saw the HD fan photos of you from your latest concert. God, you looked like an ethereal dream from his high. A goddess descending from the heavens. His Helen to his Paris.

“You need to lose weight, seriously. At this rate, you’ll be obese in a few months!”

You gaze turned downwards at the scolding voice of your manager, whom had been staring back at your reflection in the waiting room mirror.

“Yes, Mrs. Kim,” you sighed.

“I saw you stand next to Twice’s Tzuyu at the Hallyu Wave Concert and you looked like a short, fat, rat next to her! Do you know how embarrassing that is? To the company? To the members? Aish, really, you’re so plump I can barely look at you!”

You bit your lip and tried not to let tears leak out your eyes. You knew that if she were able to see your tears, she would yell at you for ruining the makeup on your face. God, why did she have to be so mean to you? 

This was not even the tip of the iceberg. Much more degrading insults have been spit out her mouth when she was first assigned your manager. She has ripped into every single fibre of your being, degrading your looks, your singing, your dancing. “Are you even worth being the main vocal? The trash collectors sing better than you!” to “Fuck, you’re so dumb. Dumber than those retarded kids.” She was… horrible, to describe in one word.

Mrs. Kim was an idol from the nineties, and was picked as your rookie group’s manager solely on her experience in the entertainment industry. Even staring at her while she was making some calls, you could see the faint shadows of beauty to her aging face.

You slowly slipped out of the room, trying to get away from red-faced and ranting Mrs. Kim. You finally did, and when she saw you escape, Mrs. Kim yelled after you even louder but was unable to chase after since you were already in the hallway. She didn’t make want to make a scene, afterall.

Shivering in the cold of the hallway, you rubbed your arms up and down and cursed your groups’ stylist. Damn her for putting you in a dress with only spaghetti-straps on your bare shoulders. Even though it was summer, South Korea had an obsession with keeping cool and often overran the poor air conditioning unit.

You tottered around in your block heels until you rounded a corner and practically crashed into a warm chest. Toned and muscled arms wrapped around you to keep you from falling down

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you alright—”

You tilted your face up to the man’s impressive height, and instantly took a step back.

Shownu from Monsta X.

His sculpted face smiled down at you, a smirking curve to his plump lips.

“Yeah, I am. After running into you, how could I not?” he laughed, the rumble of his chest vibrating against your hand.

Well, at least your were no longer cold now. In fact, you were burning with embarrassment.

Shownu was an idol that you knew everyone in the industry wanted. In bed.

You’ve met love-struck girls on these shows, giggling after him as they passed by in the hallway. It was because of his handsome and manly looking face, a fresh departure from the flower boy visuals every one else had. God, his body was an attraction on its own— a broad, chiseled chest, narrow waist, and muscled legs that went on for longer. It’s been a few years since he debuted, but now, Shonwu was the kind of sex symbol even 2PM had trouble rivaling.

You stepped back even further and gave him a low bow.

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me, sunbaenim,” you repeated, face burning in embarrassment.

“Nah, sweetie, you don’t have to do that. It hurts to see such a pretty girl bow so low,” he soothed, his face smooth even though there was a tint of mortification.

Probably because he didn’t want to be seen with a rookie girl like you. Ugly, talentless–

“It’s really my fault, I just was jogging without looking where I was going. And uh, sorry but I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh, um, Y/N. Thank you. Excuse me—” you avoided his piercing eyes and tried to step past him, but, to no avail, he placed his bulky body in your path.

“Hey, do you wanna take a walk with me?” He said casually, like he wasn’t practically leaning over you like a shadow. So suddenly? you thought.

“Um, I really better get going— “ you stuttered, trying to get out of the situation. Shownu was nice and all but you didn’t fancy going alone with one of the biggest sex symbols of the industry.

“Please, I insist.”

Well, that’s how you found yourself wandering around backstage with Monsta X’s Shownu. You could barely stop staring at him in his half-open black shirt, tight, ripped jeans, and pointed shoes.

“So… uh… I heard the shouting,” Shownu mumbled and turned away, scratching his head.

Your brows furrowed in confusion until they relaxed in realization. Shit, if someone found out about this…

“I also heard the, em… insults.”

You cringed and turned away, rubbing your arms in comfort.

“Uh, it’s nothing. I just did something wrong and she just got a little heated with her scolding,” you lied.

Shownu stops in the middle of the hallway, hands on his hips.

“Does she usually do this?” he asked, his voice raising in anger.

You waved your hands in front of you. “N-No, she just was… in a bad mood today,” you winced; even your voice sounded weak in your ears.

Shownu seemed to catch on it too, his hackles rising. His breathing seemed to get heavier as his broad shoulders went up and down harshly.

“Y/N, this isn’t good. You can’t excuse her behavior— look, I know I just met you and it may seem weird that I’m getting kinda angry over this, but it’s disgusting! Especially to someone like you? It’s unforgivable.” He shook his head, his knuckles under fingerless gloves tightening.

“You’re very kind—solicitous, too— but I am perfectly fine,” you said firmly, resolve clear in your face. You couldn’t stir up any trouble whatsoever. You just won your first show award and the hype around your group has increased, but the public wouldn’t hesitate to crucify you for any transgressions, real or not.

He studied your face carefully, as if he were searching for any sign of cracking or weakness.

Finding nothing, Shownu sighed heavily.

“Well, if it ever gets out of hand, I’m here, Y/N,” he relented grimly. He placed a large hand on your shoulder in comfort and you smiled reluctantly, thankful someone has your back.

In the shadows, a blond-haired man watched the bulky man lay his hand upon the small girl’s shoulder, his clenched fists shaking in anger.

Taeyong darted across the street in the night, dressed in charcoal black to blend in with the shadows. He lifted his black hood over his baseball cap, and tugged his mask tighter over his face. He could not be seen at any cost.

After weaving through the rambling streets of Seoul, he stopped in front of a non-descript apartment complex. He checked his phone and verified this was the right address, before walking to the back of the building.

He had a mission to accomplish.

Taeyong carefully stepped through the trees and clambered up the high stone wall dividing the street from the building’s backyard. He landed with a soft thud and he cringed, hoping the creaking of the wood wouldn’t give him away to the people residing inside this particular unit.

Taeyong saw the soft glow of lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows of FEM’s dormitory and cheered, thanking god that someone was home. He checked the forum for FEM sasaengs, for god’s sake. The calendar said that Sunmi, Bella, and Bolin were out recording for a radio show while you stayed in the dorm to recover your voice, as you had lost it by overusing it a few days ago.

He had planned for this moment days in advance. He had to needle your address from a staff member from your company, and had to ensure that his schedule was clear too.

The red-haired man crept nearer to the glass, peaking hesitantly around the corner. However, when he did, he saw the most beautiful sight in his life.

You were humming as you sat at your vanity, rubbing several creams and lotions on your face. You were still beautiful bare-faced, in Taeyong’s eyes, even more beautiful than made up in makeup and shadows. His eyes hungrily drank in your bared skin as you were just wearing a thin tank-top and underwear.

Finished doing your night-care routine, you got up from the vanity you and Sunmi shared. You grabbed the lotion sitting on your cabinet and proceeded to hoist one leg up on the bed.

Taeyong nearly creamed himself at the sight of your beautiful legs bared to his vision, your core only covered by a frilly underwear piece. You proceeded to pump some lotion onto your hand and rub it down your legs.

The blond-haired spectator fumbled for his phone in his pocket and pressed record, tilting his camera at the perfect angle to record your half-naked figure.

Your hands got closer and closer to the crevice of your thighs and Taeyong rubbed his hardening erection through his jeans. He bit his lip as the tips of your fingers brushed the edges of your panties, and he nearly dropped his phone when he saw the tips of your nipples jutting through your thin t-shirt.

Taeyong followed the line of your body as you stretched and proceeded to dim the lights. Your half-naked figure flopped onto bed then curled up in the sheets. The boy idol ended the recording and walked carefully closer to your side of the window. He grunted softly at his erection nearly bursting out of his jeans, making it uncomfortable to walk.

He snapped a few pictures of you sleeping, your bared backside clad only in frilly underwear. God, he imagined grasping that full ass as you rode him, you covering your mouth so your moans wouldn’t escape and eyes closed in utter rapture.

Was it wrong to dream such lewd things about someone who just turned twenty?

You were jogging around the Han River extremely early in the morning. Your manager had woken you up from your sleep and forced you to go running, yelling insults at you as you ran out the house.

Biting your lip, you tried not to cry when you remembered the way Mrs. Kim had called you a fat, dumb pig over and over this morning. The members couldn’t even hear her insulting you because it was so early in the morning and no one was awake.

You were on your third mile and already breathing hard. There was an already painful stitch in your side that had developed around the two and a half mile mark and sweat dripped uncomfortably down your back.

You gritted your teeth and kept on running, determined to show Mrs. Kim you weren’t a pig. Nor were you dumb or untalented.

Besides being a devil of a woman, your manager had unfortunately woken you up from one of the most pleasant dreams of your life.

It was filled with vibrant colors and happiness, pleasure and bright lights. The only concrete things you could remember were dark, dark eyes and pink, pretty lips pulled up into a smirk.

You had been feeling antsy these past few days ever since you felt like you were being watched at night. You grew more paranoid, looking out the window frequently and checking your back. Curiously, you also grew restless, as in… unfulfilled. Something in you felt restless while your underwear was always soaked. What was happening? Did adults usually experience this?

So caught up in your thoughts you ran into someone standing by a pier. You gasped a little as you fell flat onto your butt.

You rubbed your head, which was smarting from the impact into someone’s broad shoulders.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

You opened your eyes to see those black eyes from your dreams, hidden behind a white baseball cap. Your eyes were drawn to those pretty pink lips from your dreams, which were bared from his pulled down mask.

“L-Lee Taeyong- sunbaenim?!” you stuttered nervously, curling into yourself. God, you probably looked like a glazed donut with how sweaty and unkept you were.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Y/N-ssi?”

“What are y-you doing here?” you asked, still in shock at his presence. He was the face that brought you all those bright lights and vibrant colors in your dream.

He chuckled slightly, the dark sound rumbling in his chest. He offered a hand, smiling slightly at you.

“Why don’t I help you off the ground first? It seems rather uncomfortable down there.”

Ah, so this was the gentleman people told you that was Taeyong.

You took his proffered hand and he helped lift yourself up. You saw his toned arms quite well, as he was wearing one of his classic sleeveless tank-tops. His veins and muscles bulged slightly with the effort and you decided to focus on that rather than the handsome man’s face.

The pair of you stared at each other in silence, drinking in each other’s features.

Taeyong watched as horror crept over your face until you bowed deeply.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot to greet you, sunbaenim—”

Taeyong grasped your shoulder until he could see your sparkling eyes.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Just call me Taeyong-ssi, is that okay with you?”

You nodded, your flushed face and gleam of sweat reminding him of something else—

“So, what are you doing out here so early in the morning?” you asked, averting your eyes from his gaze.

“Oh, uh, just walking. I love the morning, y’know?”

Gradually the two of you struck up a conversation while walking next to the Han river. He really was kind and easy-going, which surprised you greatly. You thought he was a cold man, but he got rid of that notion as he made you laugh.

During your walk, Taeyong suddenly hissed in pain and held his leg.

“Taeyong-ssi? Are you alright?” you asked in panic, holding arm unwittingly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Taeyong grunted out.

“Are you sure?” you questioned, looking at Taeyong holding his leg gingerly.

“Yeah, it just the leg. I don’t know if you know, but I had a stage… accident a year ago. Broke my leg, put me out of commission for our group’s tour. It’s just probably one of the pain echoes my doctor told me would occasionally flare up since I was so active after the injury.”

“Oh my god, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry,” you said, genuinely feeling bad for the handsome idol. You imagined him performing when one of those pain flashes hit, and he had to grit through the pain and perform.

Taeyong smiled at you until he rose up, standing closely beside you as you kept walking.

“Well, enough about me. Was there something specific that brought you out here on such an early morning?”

Your bright smiled dimmed, and Taeyong noticed it immediately.

“Just wanted to exercise, that’s all,” you murmured in a soft voice.

He’s watched you enough in videos to know you were lying, and that made him worried. Taeyong lifted up your chin with his pointer finger until you were forced to look at him directly.

“Hey, hey, is something wrong? You can tell me, you know,” he whispered lowly, looking at you with so much care and compassion in his eyes you almost melted in his hand.

You then remembered the words of your mentors when his thumb started to stroke you lips. “Be careful of those predator idols, alright? There’s many male idols that like to prey on young, rookie idols like you.”

You stepped slightly backward, eyes wide. “Are you one of those predator idols my teacher told me about? Because please, don’t touch me.”

His eyes widened slightly until he burst into laughter. You watched in confusion as he cracked up, holding his waist with how hard he was laughing.

“No, I’m not. I promise. I can tell you some idols from my company that are like that, but I promise you, I’m not.”

You pouted suspiciously at him until he smiled disarmingly at you, and you relented.

“Alright.”

A brief silence ensued until Taeyong spoke up. “But seriously Y/N, what’s wrong? You seem… really troubled.”

An inner war raged inside you for a few minutes until you turned to him.

“I’m exercising because I’m fat,” you told him, hugging yourself in comfort.

“Wait, what?” Taeyong exclaimed.

“Yeah. I just… well someone told me I needed to lose some weight so,” you waved your hands helplessly, “here I am.”

Taeyong never felt so furious in his life. Who would dare insult this goddess? Y/N was perfection, she was better than anyone he’s ever known.

“What the hell? Y/N, I can confidently tell you that you are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met and I’m from SM, for god’s sake. You are gorgeous, okay? Don’t let anyone ruin that for you,” Taeyong exclaimed, struggling to keep his boiling hot temper in check.

You sighed. “It doesn’t even matter if I’m pretty. I’m kind of dumb too, and I can barely sing.”

Taeyong was one word away from snapping and murdering whoever planted these thoughts in your head. What kind of bullshit was this? Y/N was the kind of person who deserved to be always smiling and laughing, not wallowing in self doubt. His fingers clenched in the pocket of his windbreaker.

“Look, whoever told you this bullshit is lying out of their ass, okay? You are not dumb, and you can sing. I’ve only known you for a little while but I know you are intelligent, even just talking to you for a bit. Plus, you’re the main vocal for a reason. You can outsing most of these female rookies these days. Seriously, fuck the person who told you this crap,” Taeyong seethed.

You saw how angry he looked and warmth filled your being. Was he really this mad on behalf for you?

You touched his arm, and he settled down a bit. You looked at the deep, dark eyes you thought you feared and smiled widely. Taeyong thought you looked beautiful, smiling a real smile unlike the ones you plastered onto your face during those variety shows.

“Thank you... oppa.”

Taeyong never felt so aroused and in awe time at the same in his life.

Fuck. You had messed up big time.

Your voice had cracked, in the middle of your fucking high note on stage during the live recording. Holy crap, you were in for a world of trouble when you got back to the dressing room.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumbled, striding across the hallways.

“Y/N?”

Shownu, in his manly glory, stood in front of you with his face a mask of utter concern.

“S-Sunbaenim.”

“It’s just oppa to you, alright?” he smiled.

Oppa. Even saying that in your mind felt wrong.

“Is it not a bit unprofessional? We hardly know each other,” you asked cautiously, trying not to cross any boundaries. Sometimes, you hated this culture of having to be so respectful to your elders to the point of self-degradation.

His smile fell. “O-Oh, that’s fine. If that’s more comfortable for you.”

You kind of felt guilty at the forlorn expression on his face, but even so, it just felt wrong.

“Well, anyway, you did great on stage,” Shownu offered.

You snorted in disbelief before covering your mouth, horrified at your lack of grace and respect.

“I… was not satisfactory at all. I have to work harder.”

“What’s wrong? I saw you dancing. You and your group did amazing.”

“Sunbaenim, my voice cracked. During my solo part. In the climax.”

He was speechless for a moment, unable to respond to that. Shownu quickly recovered, a disarming smile back in place on his chiseled face.

“I, well, that’s unfortunate. However, you’re just a rookie– you have a lot of time to improve!”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from arguing him. He debuted once, he knows what it’s like for rookie idols. Even now, the standard is so high for rookies to be perfect in looks, dancing, and singing. It was unreasonable, but the business was harsh; that’s what it was.

“Thank you, sunbaenim.” You bowed to him politely.

He bowed in return and almost turned to leave until it looked like he remembered something.

“Wait, is your manager still doing… you know?”

You bit your lip, desperately trying to find a way out of this.

“Ah! Look at the time. The stylist told me she needs to, um, retouch something! Yeah, so I better get going. Bye!”

You quickly fled before you could see the intrigued expression on the handsome man’s face. Running reluctantly to your group’s dressing room, you hesitantly opened the door and entered.

“Yah, what the hell was that?!”

There she was again, in her full resentful glory. Mrs. Kim.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you took off your heels. Reaching up to loosen the velvet pussy-bow tie that was suffocating you, you slumped back into a chair while the other members were… what were they doing? Practicing?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kim,” you offered weakly, hoping to end this scolding soon because you felt like you were about to fall asleep any minute.

“Sorry? Sorry?! That’s all you can say for yourself for that, that travesty you dishonored the company with on stage?!” Mrs. Kim yelled, slamming the door and getting up in your face. You could see the stress lines in her forehead and the remains of her old beauty, her youthful beauty turned into this old hag.

“I- It was a mistake,” you stuttered, folding your hands in your lap and turning your gaze downwards.

“Your voice fucking cracked on stage— what the fuck? I thought you were our main vocalist for a reason! We should just replace you with a dying pig and no one would notice!”

Mrs. Kim went on to pace angrily throughout the small dressing room, releasing a barrage of insults while throwing things around. She got red-faced and puffy, violent, ranting how you were an utter disgrace and you were a slut who couldn’t even sing.

“ — hope you realize the gravity of your actions today! Why, if I were you—”

“But you’re not,” you whispered, feeling a strange energy in you.

Mrs. Kim paused in her furious pacing, and turned to your folding chair.

“What did you say to me, you pig?!” She hissed, getting all up in your face again.

“Are you deaf? I said, “I said “But you’re not”, Mrs. Kim,” you sullenly glare up at her.

“I’m going to kill you—”

You suddenly push back your chair, the poor folding chair sliding back harshly until it banged into a makeup desk.

“Wake up, Mrs. Kim. You will never be me, nor can you ever be me,” you gritted out, suddenly towering over her until she had to step back.

“You don’t know shit, you’re a failed idol. You had one hit-- a dance hall song!-- and that was it, until your fame and beauty faded out and then you were forgotten in the eyes of the public.”

You crossed your arms as she seemed conflicted, a mixture of rage and anger and wounded pride glimmering hatefully in her beady black eyes.

“How can you even criticize me when you didn’t even sing? Dance well? You couldn’t do anything as a MGirls member, not even perform.”

“Then, when all of it was gone, you asked yourself many times, “why am I working at the gas station? I was an idol”, until you started blaming the world.”

You felt invincible. You saw Taeyong smiling and getting angry on your behalf and his lips and color and vibrancy— it was like something physical inside you snapped and released all your anger on your manager.

“It’s their fault I’m barely making money, it’s their fault I can’t perform well, it’s their fault that I’m not loved or payed attention anymore— until you finally met someone that you could vent your anger out onto: me.”

“But wake the fuck up Mrs. Kim. You can not and never will be what I am. Don’t be jealous that I’m living the life you always wanted,” you spat in her face.

Uncharacteristically, she went silent for a moment. The perpetually deep lines on her face softened and made her look much nicer, much motherly. Mrs. Kim was truly unreadable and you couldn’t tell what she was thinking at all.

The edges of your lips lifted.

Suddenly, pain bloomed in your cheek as your head was slapped to the side. Her slap hurt so badly that the site of impact felt numb and you lifted your hands, rubbing your probably red cheek.

You didn’t have to time to recover as she reared back her fist with an expression of utter rage, her lips pulled up in a ferocious sneer as her beady eyes looked like they wanted to pierce you.

The blow hurt stung the crown of your head and you cried out, but Mrs. Kim quickly wrenched your long hair and pulled. Your mouth opened to scream, but her other fist gripped your jaw so tightly it felt like she wanted to crush it with her manicured hands.

“You bitch,” your irate manager snarled, as she spit in your face.

Her foot delivered a punishing blow to your exposed midriff, and the air was taken out of you as you fell back onto the ground. You tried to curl into a fetal position as she pulled her leg back again and again to hurt you, punish you as her embarrassment and rage against the world culminated in a tiny dressing room backstage of a music broadcast.

The world was spinning as she forced your face to look up at her, while you were lying, wounded, on the ground. In your blurry vision, even you could see the psychotic and deranged smile on her face as she knelt beside you.

“Thank god we’re done recording,” she said, and then the world went black.

Taeyong was roaming around the halls of backstage, unable to stay in the dressing room with the members awkward and nervous atmosphere. He wasn’t a fucking stranger, for fuck’s sake but they acted like he was a new member in the group. Taeyong gritted his teeth and his jaw went taut as he remembered when they thought he wasn’t looking, they sent him pitying glances and sighs of sadness.

Taeyong inconspicuously grabbed some pills from his bag and burst out the door, unable to handle the stifling environment. He fully intended to take the two white tablets in his hand in some kind of isolated place, but first, had to remember where all the good places were.

He remembered the first time roaming these halls and meeting his sunbaes, incredibly in awe of their confident yet polite demeanors. Now he was the sundae, as groups younger than him and new rookies nearly tripped over themselves to bow and greet him. They looked at him in awe, “Korea’s Visual Treasure” as nicknamed by Vogue, while not looking discreetly at his formerly broken leg to see if he was limping or something like that.

And as always, his thoughts drifted back to Y/N. His smile turned utterly lovesick and infatuated when he thought of seeing you when you were a rookie, in your demure pink tennis skirt and fucking stockings. The ones that ended at mid-thigh and was held up by garters, the ones that every senior boy group jacked off to every night.

He fingered the thin slip of lace in his front pocket, rubbing it between his fingers in tandem with his heeled boots clicking on the ground.

What were they?

Why, they were your panties, of course.

What else would it be? Whose else would it be?

Taeyong lovesick grin was luckily not seen by anyone as they curled up in a delirious edge. They were hard to attain, as was everything related to you was. He had gone through several parties to find your dorm’s housecleaner, a young girl that was easily bribed into taking a pair of panties and some of your tank tops from your drawers. His love for you knew no bounds, nothing as silly as the law and the right to privacy would stop him.

But then, he remembered that guy.

Shownu.

That son of a bitch touching Y/N, looking so concerned when he was basically on top of her. Taeyong saw the intentions in his eyes, the way he undressed you with his mind and the way they roamed over your figure.

He was going to kill him, one day, he swore. Maybe chop off an important part or something so Shownu could never lay a damned finger on your holiness.

His phone buzzed. As he looked at his phone, he realized it was nearing prep time and grimaced. He looked for a door leading downstairs, vaguely recognizing the hallway as the fifth floor. Taeyong opened the door to what he thought was the stairwell, and instead realized it was a storage closet.

The blond-haired man was about to shut the door until he saw the hall lights striking upon something shimmery and he stepped forward to take a better look.

It seemed to be from some kind of fake clothing gem, attacked to the middle of a pussy bow. His eyes followed the shape of the pussy bow to the top, followed the new line of something vaguely human and soft and when he opened the door a tiny bit more to see better, his heart leapt into his throat.

It was you.

Taeyong saw you, the girl of his dreams and nightmares, spread across the dirty tiles of the storage closet like a doll whose strings had been cut. Even in the dark and with red and purple bruises blooming like flowers onto your skin you were still enticing.

His panic gave way to unwanted lust, his addiction to this girl coming back in full force when she was right in front of him like she was delivered there. He bit his lip as genuine care and concern battled the shameless wantonness that arose when he saw the tantalizing peaks of your breasts through the white shirt. Your skirt had splayed haphazardly across your legs, revealing inch by inch the delicious skin leading to your core until his vision was impeded by black safety shorts. Taeyong’s hungry eyes made out the shape of your mound through the spandex and dropped to his knees, so overcome by care and lust that his weak body could barely contain the sensations.

His vision swam until it focused back on you, where the dark lights illuminated your body like a halo. He crawled on his hands and knees, the package between his thighs physically throbbing in need, while he came closer to your prone body.

He raised a tentative hand to touch your glowing skin until his right mind screamed at him to stop, that this was immoral and dishonorable but the pill he took 15 minutes ago egged him on to go on. The hand that had paused in the air resumed its descent onto your body, landing softly onto your knee.

Taeyong held his breath as he softly stroked the skin of your knee, and when you didn’t show any signs of waking up he got braver. His whole palm rested on your played out leg, tracing over the bruises with tenderness. His hand seemed to wander down to his trousers on its own, palming his cock in his cupped hand roughly until he was dry-humping his own hand. He closed his shadowed eyes shamefully, blocking out the shear embarrassment of the situation.

Taeyong heard a small moan of pain then jerked his hands away from his half-stained trousers when he saw your petal lips open slightly.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was darkness and the silhouette of a person stood against the cracked light of a doorway,

Then you registered the burning pain all over body, mainly on your stomach and back. A pained scream left your lips as you curled deeper into yourself, trying to escape the bone-deep ache of the injuries.

“Shhh, shhh,” the silhouette whispered as the presence settled beside you, a man’s almost painful heat pressing into your skin like a brand.

He started stroking you back and you unconsciously leaned into his heat, wanting his all-consuming warmth to burn away the aches and pains that you body was composed of until you snapped back into reality.

You jerked away suddenly from the man and his touches, backing away frantically until your back painfully banged into a metal shelving unit.

Your mouth opened to scream but it was blocked by a hand, his hand, and it clamped over your mouth so that it muffled your panicked noises.

“Wait, shit, hold on—“

The dingy light of the supply closet flicked on and the cold light threw everything into relief. Your thrashing ceased as you saw those haunting eyes staring right at you, so uncomfortably close you didn’t know how to react.

Taeyong-sunbaenim kneeled in front of you, the gaunt hollows of his face deepened even further by the light of the one light bulb hanging above you.

As he saw you were not protesting anymore, he carefully removed his hand and leaned back, sitting on the floor in front of you.

An awkward silence enveloped both of you until you caught sight of your bruised arms and legs and you yelped, frantically trying to cover the evidence of your weakness from one of the most handsome and captivating individuals you’ve ever met.

The most handsome and captivating individual.

Ever.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s alright you don’t need to hide it from me,” Taeyong urged, extending his hands as if to help.

Please don’t, he begged silently. Don’t hide yourself from me. Don’t deny me your perfection.

You curled further into you self and buried your face into folded knees, hardly looking at him. You struggled not to burst out in tears, whether it be from the furious beating you received or the embarrassment you did not know, but they still bubbled up.

More silence preceded until he broke it.

“What happened?” he whispered tenaciously.

“…me,” you whispered back.

You heard a small huff of air when a pair of arms wrapped around your trembling body.

“It was that person, huh?”

You bit your lip and nodded into his broad and strong shoulders, feeling tired and drained all the sudden. It was like his touch had sucked away all your anxiousness and worries, just leaving you and him and nothing else.

“Y/N?”

“Oppa,” you mumbled. You didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath as you continued. “Oppa, she beat me up.”

“Who’s she, baby girl?” he urged, but you still didn’t hear the dangerous edge to his deep voice,

“M-my manager,” you said almost silently.

Somehow, he must have heard you or felt your lips move against his shoulder because he tensed up and his grip on you tightened.

“You’re fucking manager did this? She beat you up? Called you fat? Dumb?”

Even though you didn’t answer as a wave of brutal pain passed over you, he understood.

“I’m going to rip the throat out of that motherfucking whore—“ he hissed as he motioned to get up until your small hands tightened on his shoulders.

“...Please, don’t leave me. Please,” you cried, clinging tightly to him.

Taeyong looked down at your face, knew that you were delusional with pain and probably wanted anyone to hold you, but he couldn’t resist your red eyes and trembling lips…

His shoulders untended and he carefully sat back on the ground, pulling you into his lap. You straddled his lap while you sobbed into his silk stage shirt in total pain.

Totally forgetting his prep and the pills he was supposed to take in his pocket,  all of his intense focus was on you. After this small taste of your gift, he knew he would never be able to live without it again.

He just couldn’t.

You looked out the window of the private clinic, deep in the neighborhoods of Seoul. IV’s and various cords were hooked up to your arms as you shifted against the cotton material of your hospital dress.

A sigh escaped your lips when you saw the piles of bandages wrapped around your legs, reminding you of an embalmed body from Egypt or South America.

Wonderful thoughts.

The door creaked open as the nurse click-clacked in, a polite smile on her face.

“I’ll be rewrapping the bandages again, is that alright?”

“Y-yes,” you croaked out, immediately reaching out for the glass of water beside you.

Your eyes began to get entranced by the repetitive actions of the nurse as she unwrapped and wrapped, snipped and snapped.

When you turned to look around the room, you could see the nurse out of your periphery looking piteously at your bruises. That summed up most of the reaction of the clinic when you limped in with Taeyong. They quickly and quietly admitted you in, and when finally asking the origin of the injuries, you had lied. You had told them you fell in the gym while Taeyong thrummed in anger beside you and the doctor scribbled in the false information. They even knew for sure that you were beaten up when they examined your wounds, but they pretended not to know and put you to bed.

“There, that’s all better,” she smiled softly.

Just as she was about to walk out the door, she seemed to remember something.

“Oh, also, someone left you a get-well gift. I’ll get it.”

Soon your hands arms were full of a fluffy pink teddy bear, it’s beaded eyes and stitched-on smile beaming dopily up at you. A sky-blue ribbon was wrapped around its neck, and you shifted the bear like it was a baby to read the note attached to it.

“Get better soon, my lovely junior. -Oppa :)”

Your lips parted slightly in shock as you stared at the beautiful present, not believing the larger-than-life Global Idol Lee Taeyong would send you a get better gift. Or let you cry on his shoulder. Or accompany you to the hospital. Wow.

The door to your room opened once again, but it was not the nurse that walked through, but the main doctor.

“Y/N-ssi, it’s nice to see you looking better.”

He sat down in a chair beside your bed and pulled out an important looking binder, emblazoned with words that disappeared too fast for you to read as he opened it.

“Y/N-ssi, I want to talk to you about your injuries.”

You automatically grimaced and your hands clasped your arms, hugging yourself.

“We all know you were physically hit in some kind of fashion.” he continued, maintaining eye contact with you.

“We also wanted to know if you wanted to file a police report.”

“No!” you automatically rejected. First, it was because of the embarrassment, but then it was the fact that you were an idol and you weren’t supposed to get into these kind of situations. Plus, who would believe you anyway?

“Well, alright, if that’s what you think is best for you—”

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and you spot Sunmi panting.

“Sunmi?” you asked, perplexed. The doctor in front of you could only stare in utter confusion.

“Y/N,” she wheezed. “It’s manager Mrs. Kim.”

“She’s in the ER— injured.”

“Sunbaenim?” you asked through the phone, voice muffled from crying.

“Y/N? Is everything alright? Also, it’s oppa,” Taeyong urgently replied. As usual, his deep timbre sent shivers down your spine even through a phone line.

“C-can you come here? I’m so sorry, I know that if you can’t, it’s alright, it’s just—” you rambled in embarrassment, ashamed of having to ask for help.

“Y-yeah, it’s alright, I’ll be there soon, okay? Stay put for oppa.”

The line goes dead and you stare out the window of your dorm room blankly. No one was in the dorm right now, all visiting Mrs. Kim in the hospital while the company ordered you on bedrest.

You weren’t exactly rioting.

After dropping the huge bombshell on you, Sunmi tried to get you out of the room but the doctor had refused, stating you had to rest at least a week to go back outside. Sunmi sullenly relented while you hadn’t protested at all from the side.

Bits and pieces of information filtered back to you in your hospital bed. Mrs. Kim was currently in the hospital in a medically-induced coma after she was found 11 stories down from her apartment roof, splayed out on the road. She was barely breathing when the EMT reached her.

The doctors had stated they were unsure if there was foul play involved, since Mrs.Kim had shown an increasingly frayed psyche in the past few months. However, there was evidence she was pushed off the roof since her injuries showed signs of fighting.

You didn’t know what to think.

At this time, you heard the doorbell ring and you jumped up from the bed, almost tripping as you tried to get to the front door. The cold air conditioner breeze brushed your thighs and you were suddenly reminded you were half naked, only clad in a gigantic t-shirt and panties.

A blush rose up on your cheeks as you fumbled to find some shorts. Can you imagine what would’ve happened if you faced the mighty Lee Taeyong clad only in an oversized shirt and tighty-whities?

After pulling on a pair of shorts, you pulled open the door to find the slender figure of Lee Taeyong dominating the entryway. He was sporting just a regular white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, although not without shades and a medical mask. Taeyong looked like every manhwa fantasy school girls had, the picture perfect image of a bad boy on the regular.

You hurriedly pulled him in, looking around the hall to see if there were any nosy neighbors but finding none, you closed the wooden door.

Suddenly, he was too close to you. Your head was close to his chest and you smelled his expensive cologne and something that was just him, something that broke through your willpower and insisted you just stand there and inhale all of him. A small “eep!” escaped your mouth at the unfamiliar distance between you and Taeyong.

“C-come in! Do you want anything to eat? Drink?” you stuttered, guiding him to the living room as he took off his expensive-looking sneakers.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he said, and plopped himself on a couch.

An awkward silence pervaded the area as you looked down in embarrassment and his eyes wandered all over the place. Oh god, he probably spotted the huge pile of dirty dishes in the sink. And the copious amount of junk food you and Bella had scattered on the counter.

“Well, uh, I’m sorry, but—”

“Hey, no, you can tell me everything, okay?” he rebutted, the perfect picture of concern.

You fidgeted again, inwardly hating yourself for being so weak and shy in the presence of Taeyong. He probably thought you were so weak rookie girl who couldn’t deal with shit.

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you anything if you can’t start. Trust me,” he beamed, leaning in closer to you.

So you started. You told him all about what happened (all though he had a glint in his eye when you told him your manager was in a coma) and what you were feeling, the guilt of being ecstatic that the person who helped make your career was now effectively a vegetable.

“Fuck, I don’t know what’s going to happen. The company doesn’t have any staff that could help with this mess, and we’re almost bankrupt for god’s sake, and adding to the fact that we have a new album repackage coming up? I literally have no idea what’s going to happen.”

You rub your temples and bury your face in your hands. Taeyong is pensive for a while until you can feel his weight shifting on the couch, scooting closer to you.

You feel his tentative hand grasp your shoulder and a cool hand grasp your chin.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispers soothingly. His hand moves down from your shoulder to your upper arm, rubbing soothing circles into your arm. “I honestly am no help to you. But, realistically, after looking at your debut, you’re on an upward spiral.”

You didn’t feel his fingers trembling on your skin as you were so enraptured by his eyes, deep dark depths that bored into like a drill.

“– you’ll get those brand deals, the concert invitations, just wait for it, ‘cause I know I did.”

The edges of his lips lifted in a small smirk as his hand trailed from your upper arm to your curled hands, grasping them softly and then with more pressure. Long, slim fingers folded over your own like a vice.

“I’m here, y’know?”

Your heartbeat rapidly as you closed the door to Taeyong, your whole body quaking in nervousness? Fear? Excitement? You had no idea anymore when it came to this man.

His fingers felt like they were still blazing fire over your skin, still leaving goosebumps in its wake. It was like those colors and feelings in that dream but in real life, splayed out in front of you.

You shakily padded back to your room, the cold air-conditioning brushing on your skin in a lacklustre reminder of Taeyong’s touches. You staggered onto your bed, collapsing into it and melting into the sheets.

Faux fur brushed against the side of your face, causing you to sneeze. You came face to face with the rather large teddy bear Taeyong sent you a few days ago, it’s black, beaded eyes staring right into your own as your curled around its stuffed body.

Funny, they looked like Taeyong’s, but had some kind of depth, like a camera lense or something…

You remembered his hands and his lips and his eyes as your hand unwittingly wandered down to your shorts, slipping beneath the waistband and fingering the lace of your panties. A small moan left your lips as your inner thigh nudged your teddy bear.

Everything felt hot as you slipped down your shorts and rolled over onto your belly, lying atop Taeyong’s gift. Your panty-clad hips undulated onto the bear as you hid your heated face into your pillow. It was so embarrassing to do something like this, god, this was so wanton. Who the hell humped their teddy bear?

The teddy bear’s fur tickled your thighs as you ground down more upon it, jolting energy into your whole body and making every hair stand on end. It was like the soft caress of a lover, the brushes of Taeyong’s hand that made you shiver in pleasure and at that the unusual feeling.

Your t-shirt rode up and up until it reached right under your breasts, and the mound of material annoyed you so much you took it off and threw it off to Sunmi’s general side of the room. Your bare breasts were sensitive to the fabrics underneath you, your nipples scraping your sheets over and over until they were erect.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, feeling the wet stain on your panties with your fingers.

Still, your hips ground more and more into the bear until your panties were so soaked through they were basically useless and you slipped them down your legs. You were completely naked now and clutching onto your bedsheets for dear life as you thighs clamped down upon the toy.

A delirious cry left your lips as your clit felt the tiny hairs of the fur brush once, twice upon your nether lips. You could only move faster, gritting your teeth at the unexplainable feelings that exploded inside of you. You felt like you were possessed, a slave, to your desire as your fingers slipped themselves inside your sopping wet hole.

You imagined they were Taeyong’s fingers sliding in and out of you while you were curled on his lap. Your face would be buried into his shoulder, involuntary tears slipping out as you ground against his slender appendages. You would feel his broad chest rumble with laughter, clutching you tighter as he thrusted harder and harder into your core.

His thumb would slowly sneak it’s way up to the bundle of nerves hidden under a hood of skin, and when he would suddenly press his thumb on it—

“Shit!”

Colors and flashes of light exploded in your tightly-closed eyes, your teeth biting into your lips with force. Your bare body seized in pleasure, contorting in all sorts of ways, unable to handle the pleasure. A flood of liquid left your pussy and it coated your thighs, the fur of the teddy bear clenched in between your legs. Tears leaked out of your eyes in sheer pleasure, and you pitifully ground your hips into the bear to prolong your orgasm.

You could only hear the sound of heavy breathing in your room and you rolled onto your back, staring at the stark-white ceiling above you. A glint from the periphery of your eye caused your head to turn.

Your mouth dropped open at the puddle of glistening liquid coating the teddy bear Taeyong had bought you, staining the fur a dark pink. God, what the hell had you done?

Embarrassment quickly took over you as you cleaned yourself up, putting the bear and your soaked panties in the washing machine. Everything cleaned up, you fell back into bed and turned off the lamp.

As you lied in bed, ready to sleep, one thought occurred to you.

How did Taeyong know your address?

A few miles away, in an state-of-the-art dance studio, a blond-haired man in a bathroom could only stare in shock at the image of Y/N’s breasts bouncing as she ground back on forth on something. When he got the daily notification of his private camera in the feed named “Baby Girl”, he rushed

However, he didn’t expect this.

This masterpiece of Y/N, her pretty pink lips parted and presumably giving way for moans. Her eyes were shut in pleasure as both of her hands clasped over her mouth, and Taeyong could see the angle of the camera shifting downward as she humped more and more.

He could see the fur of the bear and her core rolling over and over the belly, yet he couldn’t see her true treasure. Flashes of popped up occasionally as she rose up like a tidal wave but only to sink back down into the stuffing of the bear.

Taeyong took a deep breath and flushed down the pills in his back pocket into the toilet, knowing how much of an idiot move this was. You couldn’t go cold-turkey, he knew; you had to go through therapy and rehab and all that kind of crap. But, Taeyong didn’t have time. Idols were discreet and expected to deal with messes alone, so he could deal with the withdrawal period to focus his full attention on this.

Y/N bouncing up and down on his phone screen, in pleasure.

Just for him.

Only for him.

Shownu yawned as he walked to his apartment’s mail cabinets. Dressed in only sweatpants and a sweatshirt, he hoped no one from the press would see him.

It was relaxing to be alone. So he bought an apartment away from the members, an apartment building filled with the elderly so fans shouldn’t be here. It was his own haven of isolation, his breath of fresh air from the punishing lights of the stage.

He shook his head in disbelief at his silly philosophical thoughts, and pulled out his key.

Inside the box was a fat bunch of mail, him guessing it was probably 75 percent junk mail. As he walked up the stairs, he sorted the various flyers and letters and his guess was right.

Seriously, he didn’t need another ad for plastic surgery.

However, when soon got up to his apartment door, a small letter underneath all that pile of junk remained in his hand.

A simple “셔누” (Shownu) graced the front, but no return address listed. There were no postage stamps or anything.

Suddenly, he felt a bad feeling about this. Shownu was not usually the superstitious kind of guy, but when something as minimal and small as this shows up, it’s never something good.

Was it a sasaeng, an obsessed girl trying to contact him? Trying to get his attention?

God, he hated sasaengs. Did they have no shame? No basic respect for privacy? For god’s sake, he had to break the lease on the apartment he was about to get 3 months ago when a fan found out he was moving, and now he was here.

They were so obsessed with this ideal of him, an idyllic version of someone who he probably wasn’t at all. The girls that followed him on flights, called his number in the wee hours in the morning, the one time someone actually broke into his hotel room in California.

They weren’t in love, they were fucking psychotic. Infatuated with someone who wasn’t him.

Shownu shut the door to his apartment and after throwing all the junk mail into the trashcan, he stretched out on his favorite leather sectional.

The simple white letter with simple black letters stared back at him. Should he at least get this screened or something first?

To hell with it, he was curious.

The first thing that fell out was a newspaper clipping. On the 3rd page of the Korea herald, was a small section announcing the hospitalization of Kim Sohye, a middle-aged woman whom was a popular idol in the nineties. The article went on to detail how she was splayed across the road in blood, having either been pushed or fallen off the roof of her apartment building. Now, she was in a medically-induced coma.

What did this have to do with him?

He was quite annoyed, thinking someone was probably fucking with him, until he saw the last part of the article.

Kim Sohye is the manager of FEM, a rookie girl group who has just gotten their first win. No word has been released from their company on what will happen to the group’s activities.

While he was shocked, Shownu lad a large part of him that yelled “good riddance!” to the woman who had verbally abusing Y/N.

Good for her then, he’d have to find some way to check up on her. Maybe backstage at Music Core?

Another white paper fell out of the envelope, the paper feeling quite slippery to the touch.

Shownu,

I took care of the manager when you couldn’t. I actually did something instead of watching from the sidelines. Anyways, good luck trying to reach Y/N. She isn’t interested in you, you know? My goddess is simply too good for your whoring ways.

With much loathing,

A Fellow Idol

(P.S. By the way, I don’t think you’ll be able to reach her anyway. You should’ve stuck to your gut and got this piece of mail screened. This letter is coated in a poison that goes airborne when the envelope is opened. You won’t be touching Y/N anytime soon. Rot in hell, you son of a bitch.)

Shownu, horrified, belatedly realized the slipperiness of the paper was due to the poison. He was so confused, so filled with fear and that all ended when everything went black.

Laughter filled the apartment as sunlight streamed through the window.

“D-Did you see that? He- ha!”

“He just— I’m dying!”

You and Taeyong were curled up on the couch, laughing your asses off at the viral facebook post of cute shiba dogs being clumsy. You were stilled wrapped up in your laughter, however, the man’s warmth next to you still made you self-conscious. Taeyong might be a comfortable friend instead of an intimidating senior, but he was still an intimidating man. Pretty-boy looks he was known for, but whenever you were near him, there was a sort of self-assuredness and confidence that cornered you and had you speechless.

Well, not so much nowadays. Taeyong and you were genuinely good friends after the whole debacle. He talked to you, listened to you, gave you advice: even drove you to the hospital to visit your injured manager while standing as emotional support outside the room.

Although, Taeyong was sort of… strange? Perhaps it was just you, since you had never had a close guy friend or any romantic relationship of the sort, but something felt off. The handsome man never really wanted to leave you, not in the lovey-dovey kind of way but in the kind of intrusive fashion that made you late for things. Talking about other men in the presence of him had him incensed and sullen, often blackening his mood and ruining the day for both of you. He also had a weird thing about calling him oppa, always insisting you use the term instead of “sunbaenim” or”-ssi”.

You stroked your teddy bear in thought, hugging it tightly and blushing, remembering the things you had done with the teddy bear. Hugging it tight and close in embarrassment, a hard object pressed into your chest. Hoping Taeyong (who was enraptured by the video on screen) was not looking, you gently felt up the teddy bear.

In your fingers was something hard and square underneath all the fluff and stuffing of the bear’s head. You imperceptibly frowned. Was it a box of some sort? Maybe it was a device that helped it speak?

You watched Taeyong through your eyelashes, his sharp features glinting with the reflected light from the screen. God, he was so handsome.

Momentarily forgetting the box, you felt a deep ache in your heart for Taeyong. He was too kind, too gentle and caring for you not to fall deeply for. Stupid, inane, ridiculous— this infatuation was all sorts of stupid for so many reasons.

You were barely 20, he was already 25.

You just debuted, a rookie; he. an established senior.

You an idol from a small company; he, from a behemoth.

You, a girl who would get attacked for whatever she did; he, a beneficiary of a double standard.

But the heart wants what it wants.

You felt tears inadvertently well up in your eyes as you finally feel the hopelessness of the situation. Turning away so Taeyong wouldn’t notice the glistening tear roll down your cheek, you quickly compose yourself and turn back.

“Oppa? I’m going to get something, okay?”

He turned and you were once again faced with the full force of his attention. It was like a bag of sand on your shoulder, except you weren’t an air balloon and they weren’t getting cut off. No, they were piled and piled onto you like you were supposed to drown.

“Yeah, yeah. I get the cute babies and dogs all to myself now,” he joked, leaning back into the couch.

You took the hand of your teddy all the way to your bedroom, wiping your eyes along the way. You imagined you looked somewhat like a distressed toddler, padding back to your room.

Holding down the bear, you raised the pair of scissors over the gift.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

White stuffing exploded out of the cut, going this way and that way as you stuck your hand in. After a few seconds of blind searching, you pulled out the box you had felt against your chest earlier.

There, resting on your palm, was a camera with a blinking red light.

Taeyong lounged on the couch, feeling content but a little restless.

A feeling that usually pervaded his whole body when he was away from you.

When he could not touch you, see you, feel you, Taeyong was antsy. He couldn’t sit still, his eyes zoomed around like balls on a roulette table, couldn’t focus. It was like withdrawal, but from you.

His members noticed. They noticed he was maybe a tiny bit healthier, less gaunt, but forever distracted. Yuta remarked sullenly that he was always on his phone, never making time for the rest of the members in the dorm.

But how could he? How could he focus when dancing when his baby girl was just one swipe away?

Taeyong’s leg bounced up and down as he waited for Y/N to return from her room.

“Sunbaenim.”

Taeyong’s dark brows furrowed as heard your voice. You haven’t called him “sunbaenim” in private in weeks.

He turned around and what he saw nearly made his heart stop.

Taeyong’s face went through several phases. He turned bone-white in shock, eyes wide in panic, and stuttering in desperation.

“What is this?” you asked, your tone deceptively light.

“Y/N—”

“Why did I find a camera recording inside the stuffed bear you gave me?”

For once, Taeyong was speechless. He didn’t have a smooth condolence or excuse to give you. His eyes looked pained when his hands reached out towards you.

“Y/N, baby, let me explain.”

“Don’t call me baby! You better have some damn good explanation for this, I- after all this time? You’ve been spying on me?” you voice had gotten very angry but then had immediately turned anguished.

“Baby girl, please, I had to keep eyes on you somehow! I couldn’t just let you go, can’t you understand?”

“Understand what?”

“I’m fucking in love with you! I need you! I can’t breathe, can’t sleep, can’t eat without you!”

You reared back in shock.

“Taeyong, this isn’t love,” you spoke slowly, backing away from him. “T-this is obsession. You need help”

“This is love, Y/N. I have given up everything for you, I’ve done everything for you.”

He stalked towards you slowly, trying to not scare you off like a frantic doe.

“Why do you think your manager suddenly fell of a building? That bitch certainly didn’t fall off by herself. I fucking pushed her fat ass, I hid near the roof entrance and threw her off the skyline. It’s a pity she isn’t dead, but you know what? She’s in a coma and in pain, she deserves it after hurting you.”

“Oh my god—”

“There’s more! Remember our dear, handsome, Shownu?”

An expression of horror befell your face and seized your heart.

“No—”

“Your dearest Shownu is in the ER after being poisoned. It isn’t on the news, but I sent him that letter. It was a letter coated in poison. Poison that goes airborne after being exposed to the air after 24 hours in being in liquid form. He couldn’t man up for you, so I did away with him!” he shouted, sounding crazed and delirious and not like your Taeyong at all.

“Taeyong, you’re scaring me!”

He sucked in a gasp of pain, distress radiating from his whole body. His eyes were like fractured glass, broken, and had a touch of desperation shining in those mesmerizing depths.“Oh no, baby—”

You stumbled away from his body.

He relented and sat back down on the couch reluctantly. When he sighed, it felt like he was on the cusp of doing something but he just put his head in his hands.

After a moment of tense fear, he spoke up. “I gave up so much for you. I gave up the pills for you.”

“Pills?”

“After my injury last year, I was addicted to narcotics. They just got rid of all the pain in my body and in my mind. You have to understand, baby girl, I was distraught. I couldn’t participate in the world tour with all my members, couldn’t see my fans, couldn’t even fucking perform of my broken leg. I didn’t even know if I would be able to perform afterwards.”

You let out a small gasp.

“But for you, after seeing you on stage on our win looking like salvation, I gave it all up—”

“ —and focused all on me,” you whispered.

He nodded, his eyes scanning over you and his body tense in anticipation, like he expected you to bolt.

Your head was spinning. All these revelations being revealed. Taeyong, the sweet, caring, oppa of yours that had helped you through pain was the a criminal, a menace to society that had nearly killed two people. He was insane, delusional, a sasaeng of the worst kind— the kind that thought he was in love. You needed space, or else him and his eyes and his passion would consume you and never let go.

“I- I Taeyong—”

“Oppa,” he muttered.

“-this,” you waved a frantic hand between the space of you two “isn’t healthy. I need to think—”

You hadn’t even blinked before Taeyong slammed you into a wall, pressing his lips onto you like a brand. His hands grasped your waist tightly to him like he was trying to meld your body with his, trying to crawl into a cavity and never come out.

“Baby girl,” he said in between the kisses. “Don’t leave, me, please.”

“No, we need to talk this out—”

“No talking, Y/N. Sometimes we need our bodies to express some things that can’t be spoken for us. I have been waiting to touch you for real for months.”

His slender fingers didn’t even fumble when they slid underneath your t-shirt. His thumbs massaged the skin of your sensitive sides. His fingers left goosebumps in their wake while they slowly traveled up and up until his hands were right beneath your bra.

Meanwhile, his other hand had played with the edge of the back your shorts. Slipping in and out, unable to choose whether to play with elastic of your shorts or your panties.

Please, just go in! You frantically thought and then immediately recoiled in disgust. This criminal, this murderer, was touching you and you submitted to him like a bitch in the heat? You raised your knee to hit to where the sun didn’t shine.

Almost predicting your actions, he smirked into your kiss and slipped in whole hand into your panties. Your knee dropped as you clenched your teeth, the wall supporting the whole of your weight. He was now cupping your butt in his large, slender hands and he pulled you in even more towards his body.

“Oh, baby girl, you’re mine, you know that? Since the day I saw you…”

His hand abruptly pushed your bra cup and was holding your breast in hand. A reluctant moan came from your lips as you tensed from the sensations.

“…to the day I saw you getting off on the teddy bear I gave.”

You gasped, embarrassed and ashamed then tried to push him off, but Taeyong took advantage of your parted lips and slipped his tongue. You were still a deep red, now knowing he knew of that time you humped his teddy bear picturing him, imagining his fingers you.

He chuckled deeply, letting it hang in the air. “What a naughty girl, huh? No one would never expect that kind of wantonness from you.”

“But, me?” He whispered, right at your ear. The puffs of air coming from his lips rushed over your skin and you shivered. You were so over-sensitized, feeling his hands on your butt on your chest on your neck— fuck, he was everywhere. You needed him stop before you couldn’t think why this was wrong and- “I see it. You’re all for me to devour.”

Taeyong started stripping off your shorts, and a soft hiss was heard as they were dropped to the floor around your feet. His talented hands started unclasping the clasp of your bra strap and you felt the decompression of the band around your chest.

“You’re like alcohol, you know? To me,” he casually said, as if you were having a conversation instead of groping each other.

He rubbed his fingers near the crevice of your thighs. “You begin the night wanting to nurse a glass, to savor it, taste it.”

“But in the end, you just end up drinking the whole damn thing and get the most wonderful high.”

Taeyong, without warning, pinched your clit. A shout left your lips and he quickly quieted you down, pressing his lips against yours. Your hands clenched his broad shoulders like a vice and you shamefully looked downwards, unable to look this man in the eyes. What were you doing with this- this sinner?

Rubbing two fingers against the wetness coating your nether lips, he slipped them in and curled.

“Taeyong!” you gasped.

He played your pussy like a well-practiced instrument, undulating with an unheard rhythm known to his ears only and you could only anticipate. A bit pressure this way, he learned, made you gasp, but a curl in this direction made you keen loudly and hump against your hand. You couldn’t believe your mind was kept captive by your helpless body, and you wished so badly you could tell him stop but--

He lightly stroked your clit and you jumped, shaking in his arms until he held you still. Over and over again he pressed but never at the prefect pressure or the perfect spot.

Abruptly, he pulled his fingers out of you. He nearly creamed himself when he saw you pouting your perfect lips up at him, pressing yourself against him like a wanton whore.

“Do you really want this, baby girl? Tell me,” he said, wrenching at your shirt to get it off.

“Yes!” you hissed, far beyond rational thought at this point.

“Well, my baby girl has to show it for oppa, okay?”

He scooped your bare legs up and sat on the couch, you straddling his lap.

“You’re going to cum while grinding yourself against my dick,” he smiled wickedly as he roughly guided your hips atop his bulge.

“W-what?” you asked confusion.

He grabbed your hand and placed it atop the bulge in his trousers. The bulge twitched and thrummed under your touch while a vein popped out from Taeyong’s forehead.

Taeyong leaned up to your ear. “You get to hump yourself against a real dick this time. Not some pathetic teddy bear.”

You looked reluctantly at him, butbegan to undulate your panty-clad pussy against his clothed dick.

“Faster, baby. You can do better than that.”

More and more you went over his dick, stimulating your clit in the most wonderful of ways. Actually having a warm presence under you increased your pleasure ten fold and adding in the fact it was Taeyong? One hundred fold. You felt a wet spot forming on his trousers and already soaking your ruined panties.

“I want to see you come undone for me. Need me. Want me.”

You clenched your eyes shut as you stuffed a hand in your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. You tried to angle your clit into touching the hump of his dick underneath his trousers, but it just rubbed against your pussy lips.

Taeyong thrust up for the first time while you, in mid grind, harshly pushed against his dick.

It hit the spot.

Even with your hand covering your mouth, your scream could be heard throughout the apartment. You came apart on Taeyong’s lap, not even being penetrated, and you shook uselessly against his chest.

He laughed that annoying chuckle again, cool and calm as a cucumber. He stroked your back as you came down from your high, holding you against him desperately.

“Good job baby girl, I’m gonna do my part now.”

Flipping you over on your back, he pulled at your panties you lifted yourself up, allowing him to take the soaked material from your core. Your pussy was exposed to the cold air and, seeing his eyes resting on your vagina, you clenched your legs together.

“Tsk, tsk, my baby girl shouldn’t hide herself away from me,” he spoke serenely while painfully wrenching your legs apart, veins popping out for his forearms from the effort.

He finally took your bra off your chest, and your nipples stiffened in the cold air.

Taeyong’s eyes glazed over and he groaned, nearly falling to his knees from the pure perfection of the sight of you naked.

Taeyong took off his shirt then unbuttoned his trousers and he exposed his cock to your hazy vision. He stroked his dick, spreading the precum along the veiny sides.

Lowering himself, he buried his head in your neck and his cock pressed against the entrance to your core. You grasped onto his broad shoulders, feeling his defined collarbones beneath your feelings, and tightened your grip.

“You’re the first thing I think of in the morning, anytime, and I’ll make you think of no one but me.”

With that, he thrusted harshly in. Mutual moans of appreciation were elicited from you two. He was a perfect fit inside of you, providing the puzzle piece to you incomplete puzzle. It felt like your nerves were going haywire after being surrounded by him.

“I knew you would be a perfect fit. You’re mine,” He stated it like a fact of nature.

He rolled his hips against yours and you couldn’t stay still. Your hand searched for something to latch onto in an ocean of pleasure, and Taeyong’s hand was the beacon of light to hold on to.

Your pussy clenched him at different times, often catching Taeyong off-guard and having to rein himself in from cumming inside you too quick. After your last pulse which nearly brought him crashing headfirst into oblivion, he removed himself from you.

You whined, your legs trying to bring him back in. However, Taeyong just flipped you over and dragged you to the edge of your couch, throwing you over the arm. Your butt stuck up high in the air while you buried your face into a pillow, screaming in anticipation. He quickly slipped himself back in and you screamed.

This position let you feel him better, and let him go deeper. He hit spots he hadn’t before while you were on your back. He was panting loudly, and you could bet sweat was running down the sides of his chiseled face.

All your pining and his obsession was coming to a culmination. He thrusted harder and harder into you until you could feel your cheeks turn red. You could feel his desperation in his hands, that clutched you like he was never going to let go and his thrusts, rutting into you like a demon.

“My goddess, my goddess,” he repeated like a mantra.

“Taeyong!” you yelped. Inside you was an even more vibrant explosion than your dreams could have ever fathomed, consuming your vision and you body and everywhere. You thrashed in this overwhelming pleasure, being consumed and devoured by a passion.

“Yes, baby girl, cum for me— oh, fuck!”

His hips stuttered as his cum coated your walls white, thrusting his semen into you. The feeling was so pleasurable you felt like you nearly had a second orgasm. You felt his cum coat the lips of your vagina and slowly run down your thighs.

He stopped, and hunched over you, breathing harshly. Taeyong put a shirt on you as he fell back into the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“I- I love you!” you blurted out suddenly. You groaned in embarrassment as you covered your eyes.

“Baby girl, you don’t know how glad I am to hear that. I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you. I can’t even explain what I feel for you, that’s why I’ve done crazy things for you. Feelings like this come once in a lifetime and you can’t let them go, no matter the price,” he whispered, stroking your belly with infinitive care, knowing what must be forming in your belly right now.

The sound of a click resounded throughout the apartment and you looked up to see the three horrified faces of Bolin, Bella, and Sunmi through the doorway.

Sleep, Y/N. We’re going somewhere far, far away from here and I promise…

… you’ll love me…

…YOU’LL NEED ME…

holy shit, i have had to repost this because it’s not showing up in the tags im so sorry if you’ve seen this like 12837293472 times

[pilot-boi]

It’s Only Teenage Wasteland

Sirens are wailing in the bowels that creepy laboratory in the woods, but the sleepy inhabitants of the town nestled in between the trees didn't know about that. They were far too busy with their own, ordinary lives to worry about the supernatural forces threatening their dimension at this very moment.

It would be a shame if something happened that would make the two disparate worlds collide.

Looking out a dirty old window Down below the cars in the city go rushing by I sit here alone and I wonder why

AO3 LINK

Date: November 6th, 1983

Location: Beacon, Indiana

It’s dark outside. Stars twinkle in the velvety black sky above the Beacon National Laboratory. A huge monolith of steel and concrete that sat in stark contrast to the sleepy forest surrounding it.

Crickets were chirping and hopping among the cars still parked in the lot. If they so chose, the insects could have peered through the wide glass door at the entrance to see the lights flickering wildly in the off-white lobby.

If the apparently extremely resourceful crickets had wiggled through the air vents to gain entrance to the lab, they would have found a twisting maze of doors and hallways, all lit only by the same madly flickering fluorescent lights. There were no people.

Deep in the bowels of the eerily empty lab is one such abandoned hallway. The air was heavy down there, and in the air hung a faint scent of chemicals or maybe...ozone? The hall splits, and twists, and turns, eventually leading to a heavy steel door. This door, like the others lining the hall, is rounded slightly and bolted to the wall. Like the doors in a submarine.

Or a bomb shelter.

With a crash a man burst through the door at the end of the hallway. The sound of numerous alarms blaring followed him out of the room and split the silence like a knife through butter. His lab coat billowed in the breeze left behind him as he sprinted down the dimly lit hallway.

The lights reflected dully off the linoleum under his feet as he ran. He glanced behind him to check if that...that thing was following him. The hallway was blessedly empty, but this only set the man’s heart beating faster.

His breath was catching in his throat, and he skidded to a halt in front of the closed elevator doors. Before he’d even stopped, his hand was already battering the call button to the left of the doors. The clicking of the button mingled with the alarms that were still clamoring for attention and only served to increase his panicked need for the elevator to arrive.

A loud bang echoed down the deserted hall behind the scientist, not unlike the one he’d made when he’d barged through the other door. The scientist’s head whipped around to stare, pupils blown wide, down the hall towards the distant sound. The man hadn’t thought it was possible for his heart to pound harder, but he’d learned stranger things today.

Things he’d gone his whole life without knowing, and that he would have gladly continued to not know.

He was still slamming down the button when the doors dinged open. They moved agonizingly slowly. He hopped from foot to foot, glanced over his shoulder one last time, and stumbled the thr finally open elevator doors.

When his instincts forced him to turn to face the open door of the elevator, the scientist felt a curl of anxiety-riddled relief settle in his stomach. The lights were flickering more than ever, the distant alarms had only gotten more frantic, and none of his coworkers had joined him in the elevator. However, the empty hall reassured him that the thing hadn’t followed him.

It had torn Richardson apart.

He’d hated the guy, but still. It’d been tough to watch.

Overhead, the lights flashed fully off for a full second and when they turned on, he thought...he thought he saw a shape. Like a person standing there. But not like any person he’d ever seen working at the labs. There was something wrong with that silhouette, but the brief glimpse he’d gotten of it hadn’t been enough to pin down what was wrong.

As if that shape wasn’t enough, there was a noise. There was...what the actual hell was that noise?! It was deep, and fluttering, and high pitched. Like a growling stomach starved of food, and the chattering of a rabid squirrel all rolled into one. No creature he’d ever heard sounded like that, living or mechanical.

The relief he’d been feeling only moments before dissipated as quickly as water in the hot Indiana summer sun. Dread flooded his system as he slowly turned his face towards the ceiling of what he was rapidly realizing was a very small metal box.

A very small metal box with only one exit, and that one was closing.

Oh God...oh God its face! Its face [REDACTED] and it lifted him into the air. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or if it was screaming. It sunk its [REDACTED] into his chest. He could feel it [REDACTED]

It was [REDACTED]

It [RED ACT TE D]

[RE D A C

Pop-up sprinklers watered the lawn of a large, lived-in looking house. They sounded remarkably like the thing from the elevator, but the accompanying sounds of the neighborhood displaced any further similarities.

Amber colored street lights hummed softly overhead, a dog barked in the distance, and across the street a car door slammed as someone returned from work. The Arc family station wagon was parked in the driveway, and a pair of bikes could be seen propped in the cluttered garage. One had streamers duct-taped to the handlebars and was covered in brightly coloured decals. The other was dark green, and it had a headlight attached to the front.

Neither of these bikes belonged to the residents of the house, or they would’ve joined the mass of bikes, skateboards, and scooters littering the garage.

With all the smaller vehicles filling the space, it was really no wonder that the car was in the driveway.

“I just...I dunno man.” Lie Ren didn’t even bother looking up from where he was working on homework at the careworn table in the Arc basement. Jaune has had this conversation with himself more times than Ren could count at this point.

He’d learned somewhere in the middle of the sixth one that his friend didn’t need replies to any of his questions. Jaune was perfectly content with just rambling anxiously to himself.

His blonde friend was currently sprawled haphazardly on the couch across the room, lamenting his romantic life. Nora was very pointedly not doing her homework for Glynda’s class, and she was instead opting to rummage through the cabinets in search of who knew what. Ren was writing...well, Ren was attempting to write an essay for Oobleck.

This was proving difficult with Jaune meandering wistfully, and loudly, through all the reasons that Weiss Schnee was amazing. A list of reasons that he’d recited so many times in recent months that Ren had practically memorized it. Nora definitely had, as the past few times she’d perched just out of Jaune’s line of sight and mouthed the words along with him.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he complained, rolling off the couch onto the threadbare carpet with a soft thump. Jaune clambered to his feet, flopped down in the chair across from Ren, and slumped dejectedly. “I’m completely head over heels for her,” he rested his face in one hand, “and she won’t even give me a chance.”

“What about Nikos?” Nora interjected, pushing Ren’s books away so she could perch on the table. Ren glared reproachfully at the redhead and pulled them back towards him.

“Nora, we’ve been over this already,” Jaune grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Me and Pyrrha are just friends.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she said, a cheshire cat grin stretching from ear to ear. Both of them ignored Ren as he absentmindedly corrected the blonde’s grammar. “But she totally likes you.”

“She does not.”

“Does too.”

Apparently Jaune had learned nothing from having siblings, because he immediately retorted, “Does not!” He stood, knocking over his chair, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Does too! And you-” She jumped up as well, knocking books off the table to join the chair on the floor. The ginger jabbed Jaune in the chest. “-you like her, too!”

Jaune’s blush from before was nothing compared to the red spreading across his face now. “I- I do NOT like her!” he spluttered, his voice cracking and not helping his case.

“Yeah you do,” Nora grinned. “Look at how much you’re blushing, you totally like her!”

“I will have you know that I am blushing because you are embarrassing me, not because I like her,” Jaune retorted, dodging Ren as he crouched to retrieve his books from the floor. “Because I don’t. Like her. I don’t like her.”

Nora just raised an eyebrow, and her too-knowing grin grew somehow wider. Ren glanced up in time to hear Jaune say, “She just helps me with History, that’s all.” He also saw a tell-tale glint of mischief in Nora’s eyes, one that he recognized from years of friendship with the short hyperactive girl and had learned to steer clear of.

Jaune had just opened a metaphorical bees nest.

“Besides, I’ve got a crush on Weiss.” The teen took special; care to emphasize the girl’s name. “So there’s no possible way I could have a crush on the really nice, pretty, friendly-” Nora was making no sign of interrupting him, a feat that Ren knew had to be taking all of her self control “-humble, pretty, popular, pretty girl who helps me with my History homework.”

Why the hell was Nora so smug looking all of a sudden?

“You sure you said ‘pretty’ enough times in your little spiel there, fearless leader?” she snarked, bouncing proudly on her heels in triumph. Upstairs Mr. Arc shouted something about the television not working, and the muffled yells of the numerous Arc daughters echoed down the stairwell into the basement below.

Jaune was suddenly wishing with all his heart and soul that he could blink and be upstairs with them, away from this conversation.

“I didn’t say ‘pretty’ too many times, no way. Or- or at all, in fact!” He was backing away from Nora now, as if she might transform into a tiger or something and suddenly pounce. His face, while it had been bright red before, had now paled to the colour and consistency of old oatmeal. “We’re just friends. Right, Ren? Back me up here.”

“I wasn’t really paying attention, but by my count,” Ren looked up at him over his glasses, a sly look gracing his impassive features, “You did call her ‘pretty’ at least three times in the last minute.”

“Jaune, honey? It’s 9:15, time for your friends to go home!” Mrs. Arc called down the stairs, and her only son took that interjection as an excellent excuse to exit the conversation.

“Hey, Mom?” Jaune called, tripping on a stray book on his way over to the foot of the stairs. He scrambled up them after her while Ren and Nora started gathering their things behind him. “Just twenty more minutes?” he asked, following her into the kitchen.

“Honey, its a school night,” she reminded him, putting leftover casserole in the fridge. “Fifteen after, you know the rules.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing,” she said, a little sharply. “Besides, I just put Violet to bed.” Mrs. Arc raised her tone slightly, using the comment to her son as a reprimand to the four of her daughters that were still awake. Two of them quieted immediately. The twins had the good grace to at least pretend to look sheepish.

“Hey, Dad!” Jaune called into the living room, where Mr. Arc was adjusting the antenna on their television. “Do you think-”

“-I think,” he interrupted, not looking up from what he was doing, “That you should listen to your mother.” Jaune groaned in defeat, and glared when the twins snickered at him.

Downstairs, Ren and Nora were pulling on their coats. They knew from experience that Mrs. Arc wouldn’t let them stay any later on a school night, so they were getting ready to leave before Jaune even got back with confirmation.

“Do you think he actually doesn’t like her?” Nora asked, flipping her hair out from under her collar. “‘Cause like, I don’t even know Pyrrha and I can tell she likes him.”

“I don’t know,” Ren replied, zipping up his backpack and hoisting it onto his back. “Maybe you should actually try talking to her before you start coupling her up with him.”

Nora placed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “Why Ren! Is that sass I hear?”

“It might be,” he replied evasively, smiling softly.

“But honestly,” Nora continued, as if they hadn’t gotten sidetracked. “They would be great together.” She reached up to fix his collar, and neither of them noticed his eyes following her hand, or the way she paused just a moment longer than necessary. “How dumb do two people have to be not to realize they like each other?” Nora asked, glancing up at him.

Ren didn’t reply, and the moment stretched on for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

The door at the top of the stairs banged open, and Ren and Nora leapt away from each other like they’d just been caught doing something they shouldn't have. The moment broke, and Jaune called down, “Mom and Dad say you can’t stay later, sorry guys.”

“Yup, that’s what we thought they’d say,” Nora said, trying too hard to act as if nothing had happened while their friend had been gone. “So we got all ready to go ahead of time,” she continued, bouncing up the stairs. She glanced behind her when she reached the top to confirm that Ren was following, and then she made her way to the garage.

“Thank you for letting us come over, Mrs. Ar,” said Ren, passing the woman in the kitchen.

“Oh, anytime,” she replied and gave Nora a passing wave. “Oh, Lie, I’ve got something for you,” she said abruptly, ducking into the fridge to grab something. With her view blocked by the door, she missed the uncomfortable squirm Ren gave when she called him by his first name.

She stood back up and passed him a tupperware over the head of one of her daughters. “Here.”

He peeked under the lid and cocked an eyebrow. “Cookies?”

“I thought Nora might like them.” Mrs. Arc sounded very proud of herself, so he decided not to mention that Nora could not be allowed to eat this much sugar in one sitting. The chocolate chips in them were also a big no after “The Incident.”

Nora didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but if something like that happened again, Ren and Jaune wouldn’t have enough pocket money to make bail.

“Ren, come on!” Said teen jerked his head towards the door when Nora called his name. Ren said a quick thank you to Mrs. Arc and sidled awkwardly past Jaune out the side door into the garage.

“What was taking so long?” Jaune asked, leaning out of the way so his friend could pass. “Everything okay?” Ren just held up the tupperware as an answer, and the blonde rolled his eyes. “Of course. Mom’s very proud. Took her six batches to not burn them.”

“I figured,” Ren replied, shoving the plastic tub in his backpack where it clunked against his books.

“Nothing your mom makes could be as bad as Ren’s ‘health shakes’,” Nora jabbed from her spot by the door, using her fingers to make quotes.

“Algae contains-”

“-Contains numerous spectacular properties, we know.”

“All the same,” he said, swinging one leg over his bike and sitting down, “We’ll see you tomorrow at school, Jaune.”

Nora did the same, and added, “Yeah and get some sleep, you look like shit.”

“Wow thanks Nora, way to make a guy feel loved,” Jaune replied dryly, leaning on the doorframe, “Sadly I’ve got a late night tonight. Still gotta finish up that essay Cardin needed me to write.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and markedly wouldn’t meet the pair’s eyes.

Ren and Nora shared a look. “Jaune, you have to report him, “ advised Ren in a more serious tone than was really necessary, flicking on the headlight affixed to his handlebars.

Jaune nodded noncommittally and kept his eyes on his sneakers as if they held all the answers in the world. “Guys, I’m fine,” he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than convince them. “Besides, it’s not like Cardin being a jerk is exactly news.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nora argued, pulling on her gloves, “he’s been pushing you around since we met you, and probably before that, too.” She grinned, and met his eyes as he looked up, “And if he doesn’t start leaving you alone this year, we’ll break his legs.”

Jaune rolled his eyes and waved them off. “Yeah yeah, thanks, I’ll be fine,” he said, “Now you should probably leave before my mom finds out you’re still here and freaks out or something.” He was deflecting. He knew it, and he knew they knew it, too. But that was a problem for future Jaune.

Nora kicked up the kickstand on her bike and sped down the driveway, with a parting, “See you nerds later!” echoing after her. She only narrowly missed colliding with the station wagon parked there.

Ren started to follow her, but he paused on the threshold of the garage. He looked back to Jaune and said, “You need to tell someone.”

The blonde startled at the intense and slightly off-putting stare Ren was giving him. Then he slumped a little where he was standing and nodded. “I will, tomorrow,” he promised.

Ren nodded and smiled a little. “Good,” he said, hiked his backpack a little higher on his shoulders, and started off down the driveway with a soft, “See you tomorrow.”

As he drove off, the flood lights over the garage and the porch lights flicked off twice before finally turning back on. Jaune leaned out of the garage and squinted at them for a moment. “Stupid faulty wiring,” he muttered, as he flipped the switch to turn them off and went back inside.

Ren pedaled down the road, occasionally passing other jacketed teens and kids walking or biking to and fro. Nora had waited for him for a little while, but soon enough she had peeled away from him to swerve down another road. Fallen leaves had kicked up and swirled in her path, but they settled back down to the ground soon enough.

Before long, Ren was alone, his light shining through the darkness. The beam it cast carved a path down the deserted streets as he pedaled back to his house. He lived alone, so it wasn’t like he would get in trouble if he was late, but the temperature was dropping rapidly and that alone was enough to spur him onwards.

He turned the corner onto his road, passing by the fence that separated the town from the lab. With the cold rising, he might’ve taken whatever punishment the Department of Energy could dish out for his trespassing if it meant he got inside sooner. As it was, he shrugged his backpack a little higher on his shoulders and wished he had a free hand to push his glasses back up on his nose. The fog that was rising was doing his already poor vision no favors.

Then his light turned off.

He hadn’t turned it off, but off it was. Ren glanced down at it to make sure that the bulb hadn’t come loose or something like that. No, it was still there. Probably just burnt out.

Wait...it was back on. Must’ve just come loose from a bump in the road, and then it settled back to its correct place. He’d take a look at it when he got home. He returned his gaze to the road and-

-What the hell?!

Before Ren knew what he was doing, he had swerved off the road into the woods. His bike tipped over and he landed sprawled on the ground with a groan. Some idiot had just been standing in the middle of the road!

Some idiot that was wearing no clothes, was pitch black...with limbs too long and fingers that came to sharp points. And its face...Ren could swear...he could swear that it didn’t have a face. Like something out of a freaking horror film.

He could hear it. A growling chittering something from where he’d seen the thing in the road. He slowly raised his gaze to where he’d seen it just before he’d swerved. The thing was still there, in all its otherworldly glory. The fog and the darkness were hiding any distinct features, but he saw enough to freak him right the hell out.

As his eyes fell on its indistinct form, he felt himself freeze. Instincts battled within him. One side was telling him to run as far and as fast as he could. The other more logical side was telling him that this thing had appeared out of nowhere and he hadn’t heard or seen it coming. There would be no outrunning this.

All debate went out the window when its growling raised in volume and it turned to face exactly where he’d fallen.

Screw logic, he was running.

He scrambled to his feet and stumbled backwards a few feet before he turned and high-tailed it out of there. Leaves crunched under his feet, his backpack slapped in a dull rhythm against his back, and the fog rose like a wall in front of him. Ren was already sprinting along the trail that led past the Xiao Long cabin when he realized that he’d left his bike behind.

With his inhales catching in his throat, and his breath coming out in short panicked gasps, he came to a conclusion: The monster could have his bike, he wasn’t going back.

When he got to his house, he blessed every god he could think of that he hadn’t left his keys behind. Ren slammed them into the keyhole, nearly snapping them off in his haste, and yanked the door open. It ran into the wall hard, but he had no time to check if the wall was damaged.

The lights were still on in the living room and the kitchen, so at least he had that going for him. As soon as he got through the door, Ren turned and scrambled to hook the chain lock into its track. He doubted the thin brass chain would do much to stop that thing which huge it was, but he could dream couldn’t he?

Nobody was home, as he knew would be the case, but he suddenly found himself wishing that he didn’t live so alone.

Ren skidded, and nearly fell, on the cracking tiles in his kitchen as he rushed to lock the back door. The window in the door was nearly entirely fogged over, but he pressed his nose to it anyway in a desperate attempt to see if the thing was out there.

Please don’t be there, please don’t be there, please don’t-

No...oh God please no-

It emerged from the shadows the trees cast on the leaf strewn ground. It was coming for him, whether it was was walking, or gliding, or whatever he couldn’t tell with the fog. He had a clear enough look at at it now to determine that he was well and truly fucked.

His eyes widened under his thick framed glasses and he launched himself away from the window with a choked gasp. The time it took for him to get from the window to the phone was too long, but he had to call someone. Who knew what that thing was going to do to him?

Ren snatched the yellow plastic phone from its holder on the wall, and cursed quietly at the rotary dial. He couldn’t call Nora, she didn’t have a phone. He’d just have to pray that anyone at Jaune’s house was still awake.

It connected. Thank Christ it connected! “Hello? Hello?!” The cracks running through his voice underlined the fear he felt, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins had sent his voice shaking. If he was shaking hard enough to fall apart, Ren was sure that he’d be crying.

Nothing. No one answered. There was only static. Static and...what the everloving hell was that?! His receiver was picking up static, and some kind of animal screeching or growling. Or more accurately some ungodly combination of the two.

He took an involuntary step away from phone housing, the receiver still clutched in a white-knuckled grasp. Hairs rose on the back of his neck, and Ren inched around the corner so he could see the front door.

For one god-given moment, there wasn’t anything to be seen through the rippled glass. Then as he stood, stock- still, phone still clutched to his ear, he saw it. An indistinct shape. A shadow passed over the window, blocking out the light of the solitary street light outside and standing taller than any human he knew.

‘The chain lock,’ he thought desperately, eyes locked on the tiny metal chain that might be his last chance.

It-

It was moving?!

The bit, or whatever it was called, was moving in its track on its own accord. Unlocking the door. As his eyes followed its impossible journey, he had the insane thought that this was hardly fair. That thing was breaking the rules.

What rules those were, he didn’t have the faintest idea, but it was definitely breaking them.

When the bit finally fell out of its track and officially unlocked the door, much to Ren’s never ending disbelief, he dropped the phone and scrambled away from the front door. The phone dropped, but its cord kept it from hitting the floor, and the dial tone it was emitting only served to remind Ren that nobody was coming to help him.

Without a conscious decision of where to go, he found himself in his kitchen. Maybe it was because this was the only other room with light. Maybe it was because this was the furthest room from the front door and the thing he could hear slowly pacing towards him.

Or maybe it was because this was the closest room he could get to that he could get a weapon. Ren dove across the room for the drawer, and rummaged in it for something, anything.

His hand closed on a knife, smaller than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t have time to find a better one. Ren stood, shaking so badly it was a miracle he didn’t drop the damn knife, and faced the door. It was the only entrance to the room. The thing would have to come in that way.

The kitchen light flickered. It flashed on and off, making it difficult to see. Not that it would have mattered if he could see, because he could hear it now. That growling, chittering, mess of a noise it made.

And it was coming from behind him.

He felt his heart drop right out of his chest and settle somewhere down near his feet. Slowly Ren turned, pink-tinged pupils blown wide in fear. The hand holding the knife dropped limply to one side when he saw it.

‘It’s too bright,’ he thought distantly as he gazed at the impossible and unholy creature looming over him. The kitchen light hanging over the table wasn’t flickering anymore, now it was glowing. Glowing brighter than it ever had before, flooding the room with light. It was blinding, and the creature was screeching, or maybe he was screaming.

And then, it was gone. The light went back to its normal level of luminosity, and the sound stopped. The monster was gone, but then again, so was Lie Ren.

The kitchen was empty.

[arukou-arukou]

Happy birthday to me!

Tony rolls his neck and tries not think about how it feels like several of his vertebrae have ascended into his skull. “Turtle turtle,” he mutters nonsensically, slumping against the elevator wall as the private lift rockets up. His back aches from sitting in his office chair all day, ergonomics be damned, and his temples throb with the threat of a migraine.

“J, time?”

“12:47 AM, Sir.” The censure in his voice does not go unnoticed.

“Urgh. Ugh. And the flight tomorrow is?”

“7:40 AM. Today, I might add, Sir.”

“What?”

“The flight is today.”

“And just why the hell is it so early, anyway? Isn’t the whole point of having a private jet not having to get up at the asscrack of dawn to catch a flight?”

“For that, Sir, you would need a private airstrip as well, and unfortunately, that is prohibitively expensive in New York City, even for you.”

Tony groans and rolls his shoulders again. This late, Steve’s probably already in bed. And with having to get up so early, Tony’s not even going to get a good morning snuggle or snog or anything. Maybe going to bed is a wash. He could go down and get a head-start on the latest software patches for their GPS, or maybe work out just why exactly the targeting system in the left repulsor has been on the fritz. It’s six hours to California. That’s enough time to just sleep on the plane, and there’s always concealer for under-eye bags.

The elevator arrives at the penthouse, but Tony can’t seem to find the energy to unpeel himself from the wall. Eyes drooping, he considers just curling up to sleep right here.

“Sir?”

Tony snorts, blinks, managed to dislodge himself. Half asleep on his feet, he stumbles out, only to come up short. A banner is draped over the living room flatscreen.

“HAPPY BIRDTHDAY!” it proclaims, sloppily written out in purple marker and adorned with little symbols which Tony supposes are meant to represent each of the Avengers, if the hourglass and purple H are anything to go by. The D of “DAY” has been filled in with a rough approximation of the arc reactor, and it slams into Tony like a ton of bricks.

Ever since the whole palladium debacle, he’s kept his birthdays pretty low-key. Not to mention there’s been a world-threatening event every April since then. It hardly feels like a time for cake and booze when weird green aliens are trying to take over the planet. Somehow, this year he just...forgot.

In addition to the banner, there are balloons (one of which is most definitely a dick), streamers, fairy lights, a stack of party hats, and several six-packs of bottled beer, slightly soggy from having been left to sweat at room temperature. The room, however, seems deserted.

“Happy 51st birthday, plus one day, Sir.”

“Ouch, J. You could at least soften the blow.”

“Excuse me. Happy 38th Birthday the Thirteenth.” 

“Wow. See if I give you that nice new rack of servers I’d been thinking about.”

Tony stumbles further into the living space, taking in the obvious care with which the decorations were made, the fact that one pack of beer is his favorite snooty craft label. As he rounds the sofa, he sees a stack of gifts, some haphazardly wrapped, sitting next to the coffee table.

And Steve.

Steve is slumped down into the embrace of the couch, birthday hat askew, fast asleep. It’s the most endearing thing. A glistening trail of drool trickles from one corner of his mouth. His shirt rides up where he’s slid further and further into gravity’s embrace, revealing both boxer-brief waistband and tantalizing abs. He’s managed to kick off one sock, as he usually does in bed. Someone had tried to drape a blanket over him, but the blanket has puddled on the floor, only one corner still trapped under Steve’s ass.

Enraptured by the vulnerability, the humanity, of what’s before him, Tony stalls out again, blinking dumbly in the dim light of New York. It takes him a long while, certainly long enough to be creepy, before he finds the energy to stumble forward and put a hand to Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on, honey. Up you get.”

In his usual way, Steve snaps from sleeping to waking, though he doesn’t flail the way he used to. A few too many mishaps in bed have trained him into clamping his arms down in the moment of waking, a measure meant to keep him from accidentally punching Tony with all the strength of a startled supersoldier.

“Tony? Tony!” Steve flails then, arms and legs jumping, body jerking up and promptly spilling onto the floor. “Guys! Tony’s...”

Only then does Steve seem to realize he’s alone in the living room. He blinks cow-eyed for a moment, and then scrambles to his feet. “Well, uh...” Hands to his pockets, shoulders hunched, Steve looks amazingly vulnerable for a man who’s 6′2″. “Happy birthday?”

“I’m sorry I stayed working so late at the office. I didn’t realize... I mean... This is a surprise.”

“Well, for once, we...” Steve pauses and self-consciously reaches over to knock on the mahogany end table. “For once, we didn’t have a space invasion on our hands, so I thought we’d surprise you. So much for the man with a plan, seeing’s as how this one didn’t work out at all.”

“Are you kidding me? That banner is great.”

“Clint’s handiwork,” Steve says sheepishly. “Bruce made your favorite. Or, uh, I suppose it’s probably packed into Tupperware in the fridge. And Nat picked up that tiramisu from that place you like.”

“Aw, honey. Thank you,” Tony says, stepping into Steve’s place. His back and shoulders are still tight knots of tension, and all he really wants to do is sleep for twenty-four hours straight, but all that fades in the wake of this overwhelming cotton inside of him. He feels soft and warm, indistinct. Is this love? Is this what it is to be loved?

Steve steps forward to meet him, freeing his hands and pulling Tony close. “We’ll reschedule. For next week.”

“Week? I’m only in California for two days.”

“Oh crap.” Against Tony’s face, Steve flinches. “I really can’t pull off anything today.”

“What now?”

“Um, can you pretend you didn’t hear anything?”

“Absolutely not. This sounds too juicy. What is it?”

“Your business trip tomorrow isn’t actually a business trip. It’s Pepper’s gift to us. A week off. We’re flying to Japan to be tourists, at least as much as we can be.”

“Steve, are you serious?”

“Sushi, hot springs, and monkeys, oh my.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” The reprieve of it all sinks into his bones, cuts his strings, and he melts into Steve, consigning all his weight to gravity. Steve holds him, and then does him one better and lifts him, bearing all of Tony’s weight.

“Happy birthday, sweetie.”

He glances down for a kiss, but Tony’s already out like a light.

[livmoose]

Chamber Music

James Joyce

I

Strings in the earth and air Make music sweet; Strings by the river where The willows meet.

There's music along the river For Love wanders there, Pale flowers on his mantle, Dark leaves on his hair.

All softly playing, With head to the music bent, And fingers straying Upon an instrument.

II

The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green glow The trees of the avenue.

The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay; She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way.

Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander as they list -- The twilight turns to darker blue With lights of amethyst.

III

At that hour when all things have repose, O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the sighs Of harps playing unto Love to unclose The pale gates of sunrise?

When all things repose, do you alone Awake to hear the sweet harps play To Love before him on his way, And the night wind answering in antiphon Till night is overgone?

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love, Whose way in heaven is aglow At that hour when soft lights come and go, Soft sweet music in the air above And in the earth below.

IV

When the shy star goes forth in heaven All maidenly, disconsolate, Hear you amid the drowsy even One who is singing by your gate. His song is softer than the dew And he is come to visit you.

O bend no more in revery When he at eventide is calling. Nor muse: Who may this singer be Whose song about my heart is falling? Know you by this, the lover's chant, 'Tis I that am your visitant.

V

Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air.

My book was closed, I read no more, Watching the fire dance On the floor.

I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom.

Singing and singing A merry air, Lean out of the window, Goldenhair.

VI

I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be.

I would be ever in that heart (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!) Where only peace might be my part. Austerities were all the sweeter So I were ever in that heart.

VII

My love is in a light attire Among the apple-trees, Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo The young leaves as they pass, My love goes slowly, bending to Her shadow on the grass;

And where the sky's a pale blue cup Over the laughing land, My love goes lightly, holding up Her dress with dainty hand.

VIII

Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her? Who goes amid the merry green wood To make it merrier?

Who passes in the sunlight By ways that know the light footfall? Who passes in the sweet sunlight With mien so virginal?

The ways of all the woodland Gleam with a soft and golden fire -- For whom does all the sunny woodland Carry so brave attire?

O, it is for my true love The woods their rich apparel wear -- O, it is for my own true love, That is so young and fair.

IX

Winds of May, that dance on the sea, Dancing a ring-around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overhead The foam flies up to be garlanded, In silvery arches spanning the air, Saw you my true love anywhere? Welladay! Welladay! For the winds of May! Love is unhappy when love is away!

X

Bright cap and streamers, He sings in the hollow: Come follow, come follow, All you that love. Leave dreams to the dreamers That will not after, That song and laughter Do nothing move.

With ribbons streaming He sings the bolder; In troop at his shoulder The wild bees hum. And the time of dreaming Dreams is over -- As lover to lover, Sweetheart, I come.

XI

Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, Bid adieu to girlish days, Happy Love is come to woo Thee and woo thy girlish ways -- The zone that doth become thee fair, The snood upon thy yellow hair,

When thou hast heard his name upon The bugles of the cherubim Begin thou softly to unzone Thy girlish bosom unto him And softly to undo the snood That is the sign of maidenhood.

XII

What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet -- A sage that is but kith and kin With the comedian Capuchin?

Believe me rather that am wise In disregard of the divine, A glory kindles in those eyes Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine! No more be tears in moon or mist For thee, sweet sentimentalist.

XIII

Go seek her out all courteously, And say I come, Wind of spices whose song is ever Epithalamium. O, hurry over the dark lands And run upon the sea For seas and lands shall not divide us My love and me.

Now, wind, of your good courtesy I pray you go, And come into her little garden And sing at her window; Singing: The bridal wind is blowing For Love is at his noon; And soon will your true love be with you, Soon, O soon.

XIV

My dove, my beautiful one, Arise, arise! The night-dew lies Upon my lips and eyes.

The odorous winds are weaving A music of sighs: Arise, arise, My dove, my beautiful one!

I wait by the cedar tree, My sister, my love, White breast of the dove, My breast shall be your bed.

The pale dew lies Like a veil on my head. My fair one, my fair dove, Arise, arise!

XV

From dewy dreams, my soul, arise, From love's deep slumber and from death, For lo! the trees are full of sighs Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.

Eastward the gradual dawn prevails Where softly-burning fires appear, Making to tremble all those veils Of grey and golden gossamer.

While sweetly, gently, secretly, The flowery bells of morn are stirred And the wise choirs of faery Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

XVI

O cool is the valley now And there, love, will we go For many a choir is singing now Where Love did sometime go. And hear you not the thrushes calling, Calling us away? O cool and pleasant is the valley And there, love, will we stay.

XVII

Because your voice was at my side I gave him pain, Because within my hand I held Your hand again.

There is no word nor any sign Can make amend -- He is a stranger to me now Who was my friend.

XVIII

O Sweetheart, hear you Your lover's tale; A man shall have sorrow When friends him fail.

For he shall know then Friends be untrue And a little ashes Their words come to.

But one unto him Will softly move And softly woo him In ways of love.

His hand is under Her smooth round breast; So he who has sorrow Shall have rest.

XIX

Be not sad because all men Prefer a lying clamour before you: Sweetheart, be at peace again -- Can they dishonour you?

They are sadder than all tears; Their lives ascend as a continual sigh. Proudly answer to their tears: As they deny, deny.

XX

In the dark pine-wood I would we lay, In deep cool shadow At noon of day.

How sweet to lie there, Sweet to kiss, Where the great pine-forest Enaisled is!

Thy kiss descending Sweeter were With a soft tumult Of thy hair.

O unto the pine-wood At noon of day Come with me now, Sweet love, away.

XXI

He who hath glory lost, nor hath Found any soul to fellow his, Among his foes in scorn and wrath Holding to ancient nobleness, That high unconsortable one -- His love is his companion.

XXII

Of that so sweet imprisonment My soul, dearest, is fain -- Soft arms that woo me to relent And woo me to detain. Ah, could they ever hold me there Gladly were I a prisoner!

Dearest, through interwoven arms By love made tremulous, That night allures me where alarms Nowise may trouble us; But sleep to dreamier sleep be wed Where soul with soul lies prisoned.

XXIII

This heart that flutters near my heart My hope and all my riches is, Unhappy when we draw apart And happy between kiss and kiss: My hope and all my riches -- yes! -- And all my happiness.

For there, as in some mossy nest The wrens will divers treasures keep, I laid those treasures I possessed Ere that mine eyes had learned to weep. Shall we not be as wise as they Though love live but a day?

XXIV

Silently she's combing, Combing her long hair Silently and graciously, With many a pretty air.

The sun is in the willow leaves And on the dappled grass, And still she's combing her long hair Before the looking-glass.

I pray you, cease to comb out, Comb out your long hair, For I have heard of witchery Under a pretty air,

That makes as one thing to the lover Staying and going hence, All fair, with many a pretty air And many a negligence.

XXV

Lightly come or lightly go: Though thy heart presage thee woe, Vales and many a wasted sun, Oread let thy laughter run, Till the irreverent mountain air Ripple all thy flying hair.

Lightly, lightly -- ever so: Clouds that wrap the vales below At the hour of evenstar Lowliest attendants are; Love and laughter song-confessed When the heart is heaviest.

XXVI

Thou leanest to the shell of night, Dear lady, a divining ear. In that soft choiring of delight What sound hath made thy heart to fear? Seemed it of rivers rushing forth From the grey deserts of the north?

That mood of thine Is his, if thou but scan it well, Who a mad tale bequeaths to us At ghosting hour conjurable -- And all for some strange name he read In Purchas or in Holinshed.

XXVII

Though I thy Mithridates were, Framed to defy the poison-dart, Yet must thou fold me unaware To know the rapture of thy heart, And I but render and confess The malice of thy tenderness.

For elegant and antique phrase, Dearest, my lips wax all too wise; Nor have I known a love whose praise Our piping poets solemnize, Neither a love where may not be Ever so little falsity.

XXVIII

Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.

XXIX

Dear heart, why will you use me so? Dear eyes that gently me upbraid, Still are you beautiful -- but O, How is your beauty raimented!

Through the clear mirror of your eyes, Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss, Desolate winds assail with cries The shadowy garden where love is.

And soon shall love dissolved be When over us the wild winds blow -- But you, dear love, too dear to me, Alas! why will you use me so?

XXX

Love came to us in time gone by When one at twilight shyly played And one in fear was standing nigh -- For Love at first is all afraid.

We were grave lovers. Love is past That had his sweet hours many a one; Welcome to us now at the last The ways that we shall go upon.

XXXI

O, it was out by Donnycarney When the bat flew from tree to tree My love and I did walk together; And sweet were the words she said to me.

Along with us the summer wind Went murmuring -- O, happily! -- But softer than the breath of summer Was the kiss she gave to me.

XXXII

Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories.

Staying a little by the way Of memories shall we depart. Come, my beloved, where I may Speak to your heart.

XXXIII

Now, O now, in this brown land Where Love did so sweet music make We two shall wander, hand in hand, Forbearing for old friendship' sake, Nor grieve because our love was gay Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress Is knocking, knocking at the tree; And all around our loneliness The wind is whistling merrily. The leaves -- they do not sigh at all When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more The vilanelle and roundelay! Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before We take sad leave at close of day. Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything -- The year, the year is gathering.

XXXIV

Sleep now, O sleep now, O you unquiet heart! A voice crying "Sleep now" Is heard in my heart.

The voice of the winter Is heard at the door. O sleep, for the winter Is crying "Sleep no more."

My kiss will give peace now And quiet to your heart -- Sleep on in peace now, O you unquiet heart!

XXXV

All day I hear the noise of waters Making moan, Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone, He hears the winds cry to the water's Monotone. The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing Where I go. I hear the noise of many waters Far below. All day, all night, I hear them flowing To and fro.

XXXVI

I hear an army charging upon the land, And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees: Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand, Disdaining the reins, with fluttering ships, the charioteers. They cry unto the night their battle-name: I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter. They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame, Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil. They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair: They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore. My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair? My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?

[demonfox38]

Completed - Dragon Warrior (Dragon Quest 1)

No more janky TV photos. Just a janky GIF.

I don’t think it would come as a shock to any of you that I enjoy a good amount of Twitch. Like, finally sacked my cable subscription because all I watch is YouTube, Twitch, and Pluto.TV. Now, my streamers of choice are either GDQ participants, Kusogrande hosts, or people who are otherwise mellow while grinding to get milliseconds off their PBs. As a result, I was spending a fair amount of time last month watching NESCardinality plug through "Dragon Warrior" randomizer runs. (Which, if you haven’t seen his GDQ run of "Dragon Warrior", you should. Because holy shit, the level of RNG manipulation going on in that is phenomenal.)

Here's the thing, though—I hadn’t beat the game myself. At least, not until recently.

Any cursory knowledge into JRPGs will easily bring up the "Dragon Quest" series. There’s a lot of repeated anecdotes, regarding it. It’s Japan’s favorite RPG series. When one comes out, a significant amount of people take the day off. It’s got art by Akira Toriyama and music by an absolute shithead. Slimes. And…is that it?

Playing the game itself, it’s not immediately evident why "Dragon Warrior" didn’t catch as much fire in the US as a series like "Final Fantasy." (Maybe "Persona" in the modern era.) It’s not like "Hydlide", where eye-searing graphics, a single poorly-looped song, and obtuse mechanics doomed it to Funcoland reject stands. "Hydlide" may be apropos as a comparison game in one distinct way, however. Both "Dragon Warrior" and "Hydlide" were originally adapted for the Famicom in 1986, with "Hydlide" having earlier PC incarnations before that. The US adaptations of these games came out in 1989. Those titles were competing with the likes of "Mega Man 2", "Ninja Gaiden", "The Adventures of Bayou Billy", and "Faxanadu." That’s like putting Byzantian cave scribblings of Christ next to the works of Italian Renaissance artists.

Plus, let’s face it. The average Nintendo Entertainment System gamer at the time was either:

10 and under, or…

Let’s just say, not capable of playing something that required more thought than moving to the right and shooting/jumping over things.

The big saving grace for "Dragon Warrior" came from a brilliant promotional idea. With a load of extra copies of the game on hand, Nintendo decided to give them away as a bonus for subscribing to "Nintendo Power." Big dick energy. I mean, I know a lot of modern-era services give a game away a month for subscribing to them, but to have something physical back in the early 1990s? That was pretty cool. Cooler than burying the unsold extras in a desert, anyway.

With games of this age, I do like to try playing them knowing only what’s given to me in materials enclosed with the game. Ya know. Feel what the pain was for the kids at the time. So, I downloaded the game’s manual and poster, then gave it a shot. With those limitations in mind, this game does surprisingly well! The manual’s author was really doing their best to help babies through their first RPG, and the map was helpful in figuring out pathing and grind spots. (Oh, and also advertise a little for "Dragon Warrior 2." Nudge nudge, wink wink, right?) Even if I didn’t have that, the game is clear enough to make objectives known. Granted, there’s a fair amount of fetch questing to be done, so it doesn’t hurt to have a pad of paper at hand to take notes.

I highly disagree with the manual writers on one thing, though. Saving the princess does not have to happen at level 12. Frankly, with the bullshit around her and with what little she provides in gameplay value, you might as well save that task for after getting Edrick’s armor.

Who is Edrick?

Uh…guess I should start with a plot summary, huh?

So, a while back, this dude named Edrick (or Loto, or whatever the translation picks in your version) brought peace to the land of Alefgard with a shining ball of light. Some territories need four balls of light; Alefgard was good with one. But, ya know. Peace doesn’t last forever. So, when the ball of light and the kingdom’s princess are nicked by a dork calling himself the Dragonlord, monsters start pushing everyone’s shit in. Despite no proof (yet) of your heritage, you set out with the king’s blessing to collect Edrick’s treasures and stab anything that looks at you funny. Maybe keep an eye out for the princess. Standard hero stuff.

I’m not gonna lie. There was this initial wave of dread I felt after my first battle with a Slime. 1 gold, 1 EXP. You wanna know how rough that is? A stay at the first town’s inn? 6 gold. A single healing herb? 24. A copper sword? 180. Like, fuuuuuck. Granted, the economy gets a little better once you can push past the first area, at least in terms of housing. It goes from needing 6 battles minimum to rest to 2 battles. Still, the economic crunch is real. God help you if you screw up without saving for a while, too. The king needs tax money, and apparently, he’s getting that by yanking half of your cash off your corpse.

Granted, the steep economy also unconsciously gives the player a good incentive to grind. So, that’s some okay game design. I also like how the game plops you outside of town and flashes the final game’s dungeon in the corner, like "Hey, idiot. Figure out how to go here." Good stuff! Even the battle system becomes smoother, once you figure out what the monsters know and what you can do. Stopspells for magical bastards and Sleep for heavier hitters go a long way. Just don’t be surprised when the game gets rude. Critical hits and enemy dodges are calculated separately, so I saw a few dreadful "Excellent move! The enemy is dodging" messages chains. I also had a Red Dragon that decided I had gone far enough into Charlock and decided to take a pre-emptive turn, put my dude to sleep, and take him from full health to nothing in four or five swings. Just real cool. The coolest.

Speaking of messages! The translation in this game is weird, to say the least. It’s trying to lean into a "Ye Olde English" pronoun/verb set that goes very thick. Like, dragging damage numbers and rewards several lines down in the textbox area thick. I’d imagine that would be really irritating if English wasn’t your first language. Style can be helpful for world building, but brevity wit etc.

Despite the game’s age, several changes were made for the U.S. release to help it out. There’s a graphical overhaul that might not be appreciated in game, but it is pretty evident in comparisons with the original Famicom version of the game. I still prefer the "Final Fantasy" battle layout and artistic style better, but the effort did help spruce the game up. It also has an internal battery for saving instead of a password system, which is great for children in 1989 but maybe not for adults in 2022 that are struggling with a dying battery. If you were wondering what dickhead in the world likes passwords over internal saves, congratulations! You found me!

I’m just saying—if I didn’t have access to a dude that knows how to resolder shit, I’d be in trouble. Like, there are circumstances where passwords get stupid long or unwieldy, but I’m not opposed to a decent password system for simpler games. Also, I’m sorry to report that your "Pokémon Gold", "Silver", and "Crystal" saves are all gone now. GBC-era batteries just weren’t meant to keep time for over 20 years.

One thing that surprised me about my mindset during this game is how many alternate scenarios kept going through my head. Like, 2010s dark fantasy scenarios. Maybe it was a reaction to the cutesy monster art and vanilla-sweet story? Or, maybe I was thinking about the "Nanashi no Game" series and how that’s all about corrupted "Dragon Quest" styled games? Just saying. There’s a lot of potential possibilities for something to go wrong here. Like:

So, it’s nice that the king resurrects the player. But, at half his gold, no matter the cost? Imagine what it would be like to be a citizen of Alefgard, in such circumstances. Who does the king decide to bring back, and why? Could he keep an army of resurrected guards for all eternity, as long as he keeps getting their bodies back? What about the peasants? Are they destined for eternal work and poverty? How do you handle the king deciding not to bring your mom or grandma back? What’s exactly the limitation of his power, here? Somebody’s sword in his chest?

The hero is constantly being badgered to prove his worth not through his actions, but his bloodline. Doesn’t that shit get old? What happens if someone else takes that token of truth first? (Yeah, yeah, "Chrono Trigger" fans. Settle down.) He wants to colonize his own land, but what does that look like? Taking over Charlock? Going further and never coming back? Does he perpetuate the bloodline bullshit, or does he go democratic? Does he ever think of going back and getting his money/vengeance from the king, or is taking his daughter revenge enough?

You can decide to not save the princess. It’s totally doable. She only helps you find Edrick’s Token, and that’s always in the same place. What happens, then? How is she not blind and mentally disturbed from being held captive for months in a dark cave? What does she do if the Dragonlord dies, but nobody goes to find her? What does the dragon guarding her do? Does it lose heart? Does it bond to her? Does she become the next Dragonlord?

I mean, I’m not alone in thinking of these things. "Dragon Quest Builders" is basically asking that question. Well, in the more basic "What if the hero had taken the Dragonlord’s offer?" way, but still. Someone else was thinking about it. Someone was also trying to get some of that sweet, sweet "Minecraft" money too. The spirit of Taloon lives on.

If you’re interested in gaming in a historical sense, then "Dragon Warrior" can’t be passed up. The circumstances around the game are still influential for JRPGs, particularly in Japan, so it may be helpful to understand where the "Dragon Quest" series started and why it became successful (even if it was a bit by force.) It’s also a cheap game to get a hold of, both digitally and physically. At least, better than most NES RPG prices tend to be.

You do have to be patient with grinding, however. Also, I’d classify this as a podcast game. Ya know, something you play while you have the audio muted and other audio playing on another device. A weird call? Maybe. I mean, the intro theme is good, but a lot of the music is otherwise a set of short loops with mediocre scoring.

…You’ve really, really got to be careful when you make the triangle channel a lead in an NES song. I’ve only heard it work, like, once. It’s got no volume control, man. The sound’s either on or off. Very unnatural. Annoying when it goes too long.

[redditnosleep]

Leprechauns Are NOTHING Like The Way They're Portrayed In America

by Dariuspilgrim

I own a pub in Boston, but St. Patrick's Day is honestly my least favorite day of the year. Sure, it’s great for business; but I just can’t stand all the drunken assholes draped in green, swigging Guinness, filling the jukebox with Dropkick Murphys songs, and loudly proclaiming their Irish ancestry to anyone who will listen. “Plastic Paddies” we call call em’. The kind of people who go to Ireland as tourists and get mad that it isn’t “Irish” enough, as if they expect the entire island to be a theme park of stereotypes.

I just can’t stomach it. So I have a little tradition of my own. On March 17 of every year, I leave my pub in the capable hands of my manager, go to the LEAST Irish bar I can find, and spend the day alone getting drunk and watching NCAA tournament games.

This year I choose a little sushi bar in Chinatown. There’s a few green streamers above the bar and a Celtics poster on the wall, but that’s it. The music is quiet, the TVs even quieter. The staff barely speaks English; it’s perfect.

I settle into a stool, order a bud heavy, and stare at the TV. The bar is pretty much deserted. An asian couple sits a few seats to my left, sipping heineken and scarfing sushi. To my right, minding his own business all the way at the end of the bar, is a guy in a red hoodie with a glass of wine in front of him. It’s an idyllic setting to pass the time on my most hated holiday.

But my peace doesn’t last long. About a half hour in, the door to the bar bursts open and a parade of twenty-something women stream in. They’re all decked out in matching green “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” shirts, covered in green beads and wearing those headbands that look like alien antennas with shamrocks on the end of springs.

“Oh fer fucks sake,” I hear the man in the corner groan.

“Ohmigod...sushi and shots!” one of them yells, and they all start shrieking. The room breaks into chaos as fifteen women simultaneously try to explain how to make an Irish car bomb to a bartender who barely speaks English. Then the selfies start. They strike up a round of “Shipping Off to Boston,” … but the chorus is the only part of the song they know. And they sing it over, and over, and over while each of them takes turns filming for snapchat. They’re completely oblivious to anyone else in the restaurant.

I watch the asian couple to my left pay their bill and flee, and I’m ready to do the same, except I’ve just ordered a new beer and don’t want to waste it. One of the girls slams into the back of my chair as I’m trying to chug it down and I spill all over my shirt. No one apologizes or even acknowledges me. I pick up my beer and retreat to the corner, plopping down next to man in the red hoodie.

“Quite a crowd,” I say to him.

He scoffs: “Bunch of Manufactured Micks. These tarts couldn’t find Ireland on a map if their lives depended on it.” He speaks with a slight brogue.

“Are you Irish then?”

“Aye, I suppose you might say.”

“You don’t have much of an accent.”

He takes a sip of of his wine. “Been here a long time, long enough to lose most of it anyway.”

On the other side of the bar, one of the girls, now quite drunk, yells at the bartender to turn off the music. She plays “Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced” at full volume from her phone speakers, and they try to sing along. None of them know the words.

“Oh, that shites terrible. No Irishman would listen to that. Plain awful that is.”

“I’m with you. Came here for some peace and quiet, but it seems the green terror follows me everywhere I go.”

“Man after me own heart. Sláinte,” he says, and we clink glasses. “Thing these young wans don’t realize is in Ireland, St. Patrick’s day is a solemn religious holiday, lacking in all this debauchery. Or at least it used to be. I hear they ham it up now to keep the tourists happy. They’ve americanized and Irish holiday in Ireland. Ironic, no?”

I nod.

“Not that I go in fer any of it,” he says. “It’s all a bunch of horse shit. ‘Saint’ Patrick… pah. He wasn’t even Irish! He was a bloody Roman citizen from the province of Britannia!”

“Don’t like the Catholics then?” I ask. “Are you Protestant? Is that why you aren’t wearing green?”

He spits on the floor. “You colorblind, mate? Does my shirt look orange? No. Catholic, Protestant… they’re all a bunch of cunts. I follow the old ways.”

“Sorry, I meant no offence. Let me buy you a drink,” I say. He nods. I wave over the bartender.

“Two more please?’

“...Two?” he says.

“Yeah, two. A bud for me and a wine for my friend here.”

“...OK.”

I turn back to my new friend in the red hood and extend my hand. “The name’s Sean,” I say. He shakes it.

“I’m Ólta.”

“That must be an Irish name?”

He laughs.

“It’s a Gaellic word, aye. Watch this though.” He nods to a young woman down the bar. She hoists a giant mug of Guinness and just as the glass reaches her lips, a leak springs in the side, pouring a fountain of the black stuff straight down her blouse. She screams, slams down the cup, and starts yelling at the bartender. Ólta and I have a good laugh.

“How did you know that was going to happen?”

“Because I caused it,” he snickers. That doesn’t make much sense, since he hasn’t moved from his stool, but I let it go. “So what do you do for a living, Sean?”

“I own a bar… an Irish pub actually. So this right here…” I wave my hand at the chaotic scene around us, “is my life 364 days a year. I’ve made it a personal tradition to escape on St. Paddy's and find a quiet bar to drink and watch the basketball games.”

“No joy this year, eh?”

“It’s pretty tough to get away from it in this city.”

Suddenly there’s a gleam in his eye. “Watch this,” he says. He nods at another drunken young woman. She leans back in her stool and the whole thing comes apart. She tumbles to the ground screaming. Her friends flock around her like geese and help her from the pile of broken stool and spilled Guinness. They start yelling at the bartender again, asking him what the hell kind of place he’s running. Ólta and I are cracking up.

“Well, this is proving far more entertaining than I expected… how about another round?” I ask.

“Aye, I’ll get this one.” He pulls a small red purse from his hoodie pocket. It looks like an old antique of some sort. From it he pulls a large silver coin which he slaps down on the bar. It’s covered in writing I cannot read.

“Uhh.. I don’t think they’ll accept that,” I say.

“No?” He waves his hand over the coin, and now it’s a fifty dollar bill. He slides it over to me.

“You’re just full of tricks, aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea,” he says smiling. “Another round, and how bout some shots of Bushmills. And tell him he can keep the change.”

I order. The bartender seems confused, but his apprehension disappears when I tell him the left over cash is his.

“And here’s the kicker,” says Ólta. His hand is on the bar. He lifts it to reveal the silver coin, still there under his palm. He flips it into the air and catches it in his purse, which he slides back into his hoodie pocket.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Easy,” he says. “I’m a Clurichaun.”

I laugh, and decide to humor him. The Irish are known for their wit. “What is that, like a Leprechaun?”

“Why, are you after me lucky charms?” he says, chuckling.

“No, I--”

“Just kidding. No, mate. We’re different. Leprechauns are like our… cousins. We don’t mend shoes or grant wishes; instead we drink.” He raises his shot glass and downs it.

“But not Guinness? Or red ale or something?”

“You bloody Americans and your Guinness… No, that’s a myth. Ale is for peasants. You leave a pitcher of ale out for me and you’ll find all sorts of things start going wrong in your pub. We drink wine; have been for thousands of years. Grapes were the one good thing the Vikings brought with them.”

“I see… so, the pots of gold at the end of rainbows?”

“Another myth, obviously. Though Leprechauns do like themselves a hoard of gold. But try and take it from em’ and you’ll be in for a big surprise. They aren’t as cute and cuddly as the cartoons make them out to be.

“Leprechauns, Clurichauns, Far Darrig… we’re all Aos Sí--‘The Good Neighbors,’ the ‘Fair Folk’--like elves or fairies I suppose you call them here. Descended from the mighty Tuatha Dé Danann. Defeated and chased into exile in the mounds by the Milesians, your ancestors, the mortal forefathers of the Irish people. We are a majestic and noble race and… wait, watch this.”

He nods at the bartender, who holds a glass under the guinness tap. When he pulls the handle, the entire tap breaks apart and guinness shoots from it like a geyser, hitting the bartender in the face and sending him careening backward into the back bar. A cascade of bottles fall, shattering everywhere. Cooks and the manager come running out from the back and everyone is screaming at each other in Chinese and trying to stop the flow of guinness as the girls laugh and lean over the bar, refilling their glass from the raging spout.

“Oh yes, so very noble,” I say to my red hood-ied friend.

He shrugs. “Hey, gotta have a little fun once in awhile.”

“So, I see the mischief making part is no myth?”

“No mate, that’s best part.”

“So you’re a fairy?” I say.

“Well, not in the way you Americans use the word, but aye.”

“Aren’t you supposed to live in the Otherworld? Only visible at twilight on halloween or something?”

“Ohh, an educated man I see,” he says. “Mostly right, but I get a pass for St. Paddy’s. Something about reparations for the thousands of years or persecution and genocide perpetrated against my people by the Catholic church. And only those of Irish descent can see me. Which is why the bartender keeps looking at you funny every time you order two drinks.”

I had noticed that. This was starting to get very strange. “OK… if you say so. But, you’re a lot bigger than I expected.”

“Oh, I can shrink if I want to.”

“Shouldn’t you be wearing green and dancing a jig.”

“Few more of these,” he raises his wine glass, “and I’ll start twerking if you want me to. As for the wearing of green: it’s another common misconception. Trooping fairies wear green. Those flamboyant poofs, trouncing around in big processions wearing fancy costumes, ya ken?. Clurichauns are solitary fairies--like Leprechauns, Brownies, and Hobgoblins. Solitary fairies wear red. We’re the ones you don’t want to mess with. You takin’ notes boyo?”

“Riiiight,” I say. I stand up and put on my coat.

“Where ya goin’, mate?”

“It’s been fun, pal. But I really can’t listen to any more of your delusional bullshit. It was entertaining for awhile, but you’re clearly insane. I’m going to go check on my bar, and then I’m going home to sleep off this buzz. You have yourself a great evening.”

“Well, great. Let’s go,” he says and stands up from his stool. He’s got to be four-foot-eleven at the very most.

“Where do you think your going?”

“I’m coming with you of course.”

“Oh no you’re not.”

“I most certainly am. You seem like a good bloke, and you’ve got a pub! Sounds like I’ve found my new home. Make sure you leave a bottle of red wine uncorked for me every night, and no cheap shite! I’m talking top shelf. And I’ll take my dinner at 8PM, sharp like. I prefer beef, but mutton will do in a pinch.”

“Whatever pal,” I say and walk out the door, letting it slam shut behind.

Ólta walks right through the door and matches my pace.

“Listen, you won’t be coming anywhere near my bar.”

“Oh yeah?” he says smiling. “Just try and stop me.”