#does this branch of AME have a name

[inkyrainstorms]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face this is canon now(to this specific version of AME). it’s what they deserve after everything.

the ‘after a lifetime’ is such a fucking genius way to start this, Kay you absolutely galaxy brained maniac

There is a light, I feel it in me

but only, it seems, when the dark surrounds me

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face do you understand what this post did to my brain chemistry. Do you. You and anon, do you understand. Fuck, man

full comic under the cut!

[dubacheryking]

this is literally insane how are there NO FUCKING WELLS FARGO BANKS ANYWHERE NEAR ME?????? the closest ones are 3 FUCKING HOURS AWAY!! IN EITHER DIRECTION!!! HOW???

[shimmershifts]

an open letter to those who have not yet shifted.

i don't know how many of you will see this, let alone how many will read it entirely. this letter is for those who have been trying to shift for two years, five years, more. those who cannot give up, and those who will not give up, and maybe even those who already have. to preface, this letter will not rehash everything you already know. you've scrolled every forum, you've seen every method, you've read every tip. you've trialed, and errored, and persevered... but you're still here. law of assumption, manifestation, belief, intention. but you're still here. you've been told all about shifting... right? you already know what shifting is... right? you should already know how to shift... right? but you're still here.

this letter is not intended to debase or invalidate those who do already believe in those things and who are satisfied with that. this is for those who have been trying that way for 2 years, 5 years, and more, and still haven't shifted. this is for those who might want an alternative perspective.

what you've been told

in my personal opinion, the online shifting community as it currently stands is very... rigid. narrow. there are a few dominant views, and then the many who drown out any possible dissent or disagreement. i do understand why this happens. reality shifting is already a marginal belief, hounded by anti-shifters and disbelieved and debunked on all sides, so it makes sense that people feel the instinct to close ranks at any sign of an outsider. unfortunately, this has led to a community that raises its hackles at even other reality shifters who simply don't believe the exact same way that you do. law of assumption. manifestation. intent. (and dare i say it, the multiverse.)

i don't believe in any of that, in the context of shifting.

now, wait! don't go yet, stay with me. it's okay if you do. i'm not intending to change the minds of those who already believe in these things. i'm not going to go at anyone and say "i'm right, you're wrong, and you must change your mind to agree with me!" that would be silly, and counterproductive. let's lower our guards, and extend an olive branch, please. if you feel these things serve your journey, then carry on. you're allowed to disagree with me, i won't be upset. you're allowed to think i'm wrong, if you want. literally no worries at all.

but i am a little tired frankly of certain ideas being treated as the only options, and often in a rude or hostile manner. if you are someone who has spent five years trying to shift, and you see yet another post that boils down to "all you have to do is want it hard enough" does that not hurt your soul? the following sections of this post are for those who these ideas have not been working for. for those who have not yet shifted. it's been two years. five years. more. and you're still here. are you open to another possibility?

what is reality shifting?

i've told you what i don't believe, but what about what i do? i'll try to keep this as concise as possible for the sake of brevity and comprehension, knowing i could potentially clarify in future posts. but please continue with the understanding that im a chronic overexplainer, and my curse is the fact that the extra words don't always actually increase understanding. bear with me.

reality shifting: broadly speaking, this refers to shifting your linear experience of reality from one, to another. this has been known by many other names in the past, across continents and cultures, even in pre-agriculture societies. i'd include ideas like persistent realms, quantum jumping, focus 21, etc. language is subjective, and people may describe or understand the same experience in different ways.

i believe reality shifting is a haphazard side effect of our limited ability to perceive and comprehend reality. let me explain. space, as we understand it, is three dimensional. but reality isn't. it's our bodies and minds limiting our perception and understanding that makes all of reality seem that way to us at surface level.

1D: let's consider a hypothetical one dimensional existence. everything would a straight line, and the only way to perceive anything else would be as a single point directly in front or directly behind you. forwards and backward. the 2D and 3D are beyond your limited ability to physically sense or feel, let alone to comprehend. Forget about the 4D (time). due to your lack of comprehension, you cannot move at will in two dimensional planes, let alone three dimensional space or even time. you are static, a single point.

2D: let's consider a hypothetical two dimensional existence. it would be a flat, infinite planar expanse. you might be a square, or a circle. you can move freely in two dimensional directions (forward, backwards, side to side), but not in the 3D. No up, no down. If you tried to perceive a three dimensional object, you would only be able to comprehend it as linear, a line on the horizon where it intersects your 2 dimensional plane. you would perceive the 3D as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it. the 4D, or time, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

3D: what about our three dimensional existence? congratulations, you now are a form, such as a sphere, or a cube. you can move freely in a voluminous, infinite three dimensional space. Forward, backwards, side to side, up, and down. if you *try* to perceive the fourth dimension (time), you can only comprehend it as linear, a line where it intersects your 3 dimensional space. You perceive it as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it yourself. any dimensions higher than that, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

quick 4D sidebar: clearing this one up now because this will confuse some of you who are involved in other communities. in many law of assumption and manifestation communities, "4D" has been used to refer to your imagination, inner world, a bridge to "higher vibrational states", etc. i don't use it that way. i use it in the sense of the mathematical concept, or linking three-dimensional space with time. 4D=time.

4D and 5D: so, time is the fourth dimension. that means it is four dimensional, yet due to our limitations as 3D creatures, we can only perceive it as linear. we perceive it as moving around us, without our direction, forwards, (or backwards in some cultures). what about the 5th dimension? the static one? the one we can only perceive one point of at a time? let's call this 5th dimension... reality. due to our limited perception, it may not seem like it, but time and reality are just like space in that all of it exists at once. if you were a 5th dimensional creature, you wouldn't see a bunch of different realities, you'd just see one the way we just see one 3D universe around us right now.

tip: think of it this way, if a three dimensional creature moving through time is only able to perceive it linearly, it may think that each point of time exists separately, passing by in chronological order. this would be like a character in a book, the character experiences each page one at a time as we turn the page. but we know that actually, the entire book exists all at the same time, and already did exist before we picked it up and started reading it, and continues to exist even when we set it down. the same is true of time, and reality. even if we perceive it as linear, or a point, all of it actually exists simultaneously, like space.

still, we can only perceive one point of reality at a time. i believe when we reality shift, we are by some freak of nature (or nurture) finding a way to trigger a "movement" in this "5th dimension," and therefor shifting our linear experience of time and our singular perceptual experience of one reality to another. ("movement" is a bit of an abstraction here, as movement generally refers to 3D space. you're not actually moving anywhere, you're already there, you just... can't see it at the same time as this.)

ok, so how the heavens do i shift?

if you read through all of the above, i assume that's what you're asking by now. "get to the point shimmer! how do i shift?" if you don't need intention, belief, assumption, manifestation, three gallons of water, crystals, or anything else then what do you need to shift?

if we boil shifting down to its absolute core, all you need to do in order to shift is to shift. (put down the pitch forks, and the flaming feathers and tar. i'll elaborate.)

shifting involves finding a way for us 3 dimensional creatures to trigger a shift in a dimensional direction that we do not have the capacity to perceive. so what i mean by "all you have to do to shift, is to shift" is that there is no physical movement, or secret password we can whisper that makes us shift, not inherently. it's sort of like being told to find your invisible and non corporeal primordial tail, and then swish it in a direction that doesn't spatially exist. find your "move in the 5D button", and then press it. except, there is no button.

so how do we "move" from one point of reality to the other? well, the first clue to this is in noticing what part of us is actually doing the "moving".

you don't make it happen with your three dimensional form. there is no body part or mass or motor function in your 3D body that triggers a shift. there's nothing that allows a three dimensional form to move in five dimensional directions... you just can't. your body stays here. that's good news actually, in my opinion. there is no need to force yourself into strange bodily positions, or chug water, or whatever else. your 3D body is irrelevant, because it's not going anywhere. you don't have to do anything with your body to shift. some people can shift awake, asleep, in the shower, walking around, etc.

you also don't necessarily do it with the fourth dimension, time. there is no specific amount of time that you'll shift after. it might seem you've spent a lot of time trying to shift, but the actual shift itself is instantaneous. some people shift their first try, and some of you might be on your second decade of attempts. again, the time factor being irrelevant is good news because this means it doesn't have to take time.

i also don't think we do it with just intent or belief. the intention word gets used so much it basically means nothing, but the general idea is that intent is the driving force that manifests your desired outcome. in the context of shifting, people use it like "set your intention to shift, and you will" or "intent makes you shift." or the dreaded "you just have to believe harder." personally, i don't think that's true. i don't think intention makes you shift. if it did, you all would have shifted by now, right? i think looking anyone who's been trying to shift for 4 years dead in the eye and telling them they just haven't intended to shift yet is honestly a bit cruel and unusual. some people who intend to shift will shift, but in my opinion, its a case of correlation, and not causation. there are also people who shift without intending to, or who intend to shift but don't.

it's also not really our thoughts that shift. or our mind as a concept, or our entire self. we know this because you don't turn into a comatose vegetable when you shift to a different reality. your thoughts, mind, and self here are unaffected by your awareness shifting away from it. if you successfully "permashifted" to hogwarts tonight, your self here would still wake up in the morning and go to work.

so what does shift? only our linear experience of our own awareness. so in order to reality shift, we just need to find a way to trigger our awareness to shift from one point of reality to another in a non linear fashion, and then integrate that into our linear experience. aha! you think. great! now how do i do that...? unfortunately, this is not an exact science (yet.) once you begin shifting regularly, i think it gets "easier" in some regards because you get a sense for how your awareness "feels" and what works for you. for those who haven't shifted, i can't say "take three deep breaths and recite the secret words, and then you'll shift." there is nothing specific you can physically do that will for certain make you shift. there's no secret passwords.

there is no key to shifting. the good news is, this means there is also no lock.

what we can do is get ourselves primed, into a state that increases the chances our awareness is triggered to shift. ie, find the "move in the 5D" button, (you know, the one that doesn't exist) and learn how to press it. and because it is our awareness that shifts, my "methods" have to do with priming your awareness for shifting. you don't need to believe, which is a good thing because it means doubts won't hold you back. you don't necessarily need to intend, which is a good thing because it means there are no secret blockages in your way. no "subconscious", no "reprogramming", no "delusion is the solution." you don't need any of that. you also don't have to do anything specific with your body or space unless you feel like it and want to. you don't need a script, but you can make one if you want. it's whatever, it's irrelevant darling, it's non-consequential.

these three methods below basically encompass all shifting methods out there. i might expand on techniques for these methods later, but for now i'll go over the basics.

method one: pure awareness

it basically boils down to two steps. get into a state of pure awareness, and then shift.

the first step for this method is actually a simple one, sort of, but i think it's unkind to call it easy. it can be easy, if you just happen to have a perfect technique that works for you on your first try. if so, congrats! if not, don't despair. it comes more naturally to some than others, at first. you can probably build the skills and try different techniques necessary for you to get there.

but what is pure awareness? it's currently very often being called "the void state", but i'm not using that term for a few reasons. one, i think using the term "the void state" or calling it "the void" is making people think it's some sort of place that they're trying to go. it's not. it's not a physical place at all, and that's kind of the point. most of the time, your awareness is perceiving reality through the confines concept of 3D reality, because that's the data input it's receiving from your brain and body. that grounds you in this reality, and allows you to go about your day to day life. your goal with the pure awareness method is to focus on just your awareness, absent of all 3D distraction data and input. that way, your awareness is primed to be triggered to shift its focus to the 3D perception of a different point of reality when you come out of that state.

i might make a post about techniques for getting into the state of pure awareness, but this post is already long enough.

method two: destabilization of awareness

this method gets over complicated, but it basically boils down to two steps. destabilize your awareness, and then shift.

honestly, most shifting methods i see online are in some way doing this. lucid dreams, the hypnogogic state, SATS, self-hypnosis, "symptoms", and also all those iterations of the "raven method" the "staircase method" the "alice in wonderland method" etc are all basically ways to destabilize your awareness from the linear perception it is so used to in this point of reality, offering the opportunity of triggering a shift to a different one. they're all sort of either distracting or subverting your focus on the 3D here in this point of reality.

basically, you'll be trying to discombobulate yourself to the point your awareness is not focused on 3D reality, and trigger a shift.

method three: absence of awareness

sleep method gang, rise up. i'm serious. this method involves reducing your awareness to zero, or as close to it as possible, another potentially prime state to trigger a shift. (and by sleep method, i don't mean lucid dreamers or SATS, i mean simply going to sleep here, having a period of complete unawareness, like totally dreamless sleep, and then waking up in your DR.)

this absence of awareness during sleep is (in my experience) the most common cause of accidental or unintentional shifts, but you might be one of those who can trigger a shift to desired realities with this too.

sleeping is not the only way to get to the state of the lack of awareness. i'd say total distraction methods also count for this. you're not asleep, your body is awake, but you're so "zoned out" (or alternatively in a meditative state such that) you're absolutely not aware of the 3D experience of this point of reality anymore.

this is completely different from the state of pure awareness by the way, because in the state of pure awareness you are aware. like, in pure awareness you have a full train of thought and total control. the absence of awareness is the opposite. it feels sort of like a "blip" where reality time and space passed you by and you were not aware of it.

[quimichi]

... [ADOPTING A YUMKASAUR] ◌ೄ

KINICH X READER

Kinich lets his eyes drift from the Yumkasaurs to your face. He watches you as you watch them, mesmerized all over again.  This seems to be a habit with you— becoming enraptured with the most mundane things. It is almost endearing.

Almost.

He glances to the side as a butterfly lands on a nearby branch, wondering idly how many days would pass before you noticed its presence. Kinich can't help himself, not really, and slowly, quietly, he moves closer to you. He shifts closer to sit by your side, watching your face as the Yumkasaurs hop around in the small clearing.

Kinich lets out a small sigh of resignation as he sits down next to you. "You are aware," he starts, "that they won't do anything other than jump for… probably the rest of the afternoon?" "Cute..." you mutter, you're amazed by them every time, they feel surreal. Kinich lets out a dry laugh as his eyes watch the Yumkasaurs.

"Of course you would think they're cute," he says, tone light with amusement as he continues to watch the creatures. "They're just hopping." He deadpans. As though to prove his point, one of the Yumkasaurs trips over its own paws and falls flat on its side. It stays there for a moment before it rolls over onto its back and blinks at the two of you with those wide-eyed stares of theirs. Kinich stares at it, amused. "...you're not going to say it's adorable are you?" Kinich asks, glancing down to look at you beside him.

"Please tell me you're not going to tell me it's adorable because it's on its back," he says, his tone just as dry as it was before.

"Kiniiiich, please! I wanna have one!" you say excitedly as you shake him. Kinich sighs, watching as you shake his arm. "Of course you want one," he mutters. "You want every creature you see."

He tries to look stern, staring at you with a frown, but the corners of his lips are fighting off a smile he's trying to suppress. He sighs again, the smile on his face slowly becoming more obvious as he watches you. You're staring at him now, eyes wide and hopeful.

"You can have one."

He says it as a compromise, though he knows you'll have an entire swarm of the things before the day is out. His words bring a bright smile to your face, and he lets you drag him to his feet as you start toward the one Yumkasaur still lying on its back on the grass. "One," he says again. "One." He emphasizes the word, knowing you are likely to ignore him.

The smallest of the group had been left behind while its companions had escaped into the brush. It's lying on its back, legs wiggling awkwardly. The two of you watch it in silence for a moment, before eventually Kinich lets out a heavy sigh and goes to scoop it up.

"Does it...have a mother?" you carefully ask, surely they didn't left it behind...right? The Yumkasaur makes a small noise as Kinich holds it against his chest. It curls into him, seeking out his body heat. He turns his gaze to look around, checking to see if he can spot any sign of its mother nearby.

"No," he says, shaking his head slowly. "It's probably been abandoned. "From the corner of his eye, Kinich notices you watching the Yumkbasaur, a small smile playing on your lips. He lets out a little sigh, knowing that this is a fight he won't win.

"If you're going to take it with you," he says, shifting it in his arms to get a better hold of it, "at least give it a name. I am not calling it 'the Yumkasaur' for the rest of its life."

"I'll name it...."

[pineconepie]

This was an ask I got a while back, but either I can't find it or accidentally deleted it. But to the anon who asked for a scenario like this, here you go! :D

TW: Amnesia, parental/platonic yandere, forced infantilization, drugging, implied kidnapping, manipulation

"Help! Please help!" you cry, running as fast as you can throughout the dense forest. Branches and sharp brambles scrape your cheeks and catch onto your clothes.

You stop for a brief moment to pick the twigs out of your disheveled hair. The small cuts sting horribly but it doesn't deter you from pushing onwards.

Sweat beads down your forehead and you wipe at it furiously. Your chest is heaving, desperately trying to take in more oxygen.

"(Y/n)! Stop!" His booming voice echoes throughout the forest.

He's getting closer to you. You have to keep running, keep moving, keep—

Something hits you, something cold and metal. You barely have enough consciousness to realize it was a car, on the dirt road path. Your vision swims, and your head feels ready to burst.

Your ears ring incessantly. All you can hear is that horrible noise, but it doesn't completely drown out him calling for you.

And suddenly there are strong arms around you. "Oh! My baby! What have you done?!" Someone picks you up. They yell to someone else, but their voice is fading out.

Your vision fades to nothing.

...

When you wake up, there's the sound of something beeping. It's a comforting constant rhythm, steady and predictable. You think you know what it is, but your head feels all muddled and foggy.

Something cool and soft presses against your forehead, and you lean into the soothing touch.

"That's right, honey. Nice and easy," a voice speaks above you. Its light, with a subtle hint of an accent you can't recognize. A thumb gently rubs at your temple, massaging it with care and ease. "That must've been a pretty bad fall you took. Don't worry, I've got you."

You open your eyes. Hovering above you, is a man with long messy brown hair, light brown eyes, and a slight stubble of facial hair. He looks to be in his early to mid forties or so.

There's something familiar about him. You should know who this person is... but your brain cannot come up with a name.

"There they are!" the man coos. The corner of his eyes crinkle. He has crow's feet around them. You think those mean someone smiles often. You stare blankly back at him, mind still groggy from what happened earlier. He hums a melody, and gently brushes his fingertips along your arm.

"What..."

"Hush now, don't talk just yet," he murmurs. His other hand is behind your head, propping you up in its palm. "Had quite a nasty fall there. Scared me half to death!"

"Where am I?" You blink, still slightly disoriented.

"Shhh..." He kisses your bandaged forehead. "You're here in the hospital, sweetie. Just got done doing x-rays on your head." The room around you is stark white. There are various machines around you and one is beeping at a constant rhythm. It smells of chemicals and medicine. "I know you hate being scolded, but (Y/n), you know better than to play in the forest so late at night..." He scrubs a hand over his face tiredly.

You squint at him, trying to jog your memory as to who this guy even is. Is he perhaps someone important? Someone you're supposed to know?

As hard as you try, no answers come to mind. And now that you're thinking about it, you really can't remember much at all besides your name and general sense of self.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" you awkwardly ask.

The man freezes. His eyebrows raise up in surprise before furrowing with concern. "Wh—(Y/n), sweetie," he looks at you. "Can you tell me who I am?" You shake your head. He stares at you for a moment, like frozen. Only when you awkwardly look down, does he do too. "The doctors mentioned possible memory loss, but..." He looks so torn; eyebrows twisted up sadly. You almost want to reach out and hug him.

The only thing that stops you is the IV, and the fact you don't know him, despite what he says.

"What's the last thing you remember, baby?" he asks again.

You wrack your brain. "I don't know. I know my name... and that's about it."

A flash of pain shoots through his gaze, though he seems to keep himself collected. "Okay. So, sweetie... I'm your dad." He reaches out to clasp your hands. "My name is Hugo Harrison. You're (Y/n) Harrison."

"You... don't look very much like me..." You realize that might be a rude thing to say. "Sorry, I didn't mean that in a mean way."

Hugo chuckles. "It's okay, there's not a mean bone in your body, kiddo." He pauses, like contemplating his next words extra carefully. "I'm your adoptive dad. Now, we could go into a lot more detail, but let's not strain that noggin of yours for today, hm?" He tenderly touches your wrapped forehead. You must have injured it severely, which explains the splitting headache and memory loss.

"Oh, that makes sense," you murmur. You take in his appearance more. He has a tattoo peaking from below his collar shirt, and looks a bit rugged, with muscular arms that have a few scars. He even has an eyebrow piercing on his left.

Despite that, he seems so... sweet.

"Do you have any photos of us?" you ask. Part of it is genuine curiosity, but mostly just because you don't know what else to say.

His eyes soften, and he pulls out his phone to immediately show you his lock screen.

Sure enough, there the two of you are, smiling at the camera. It doesn't look like it was too long ago. You're both indoors, wearing some kind of brown and periwinkle uniforms.

Noticing your confused expression, he explains, "I own a cafe, sometimes you help out. That's where this photo is from. One of my favorites."

He scrolls through his camera roll and shows another picture of the both of you. In this one, you're sleeping on his lap, his hand covering the side of your face in an apparent attempt to block you from seeing the flash.

You nod mutely, trying to soak it all in. All you know of this man is from these two images.

So far, there's nothing overtly suspicious. Nothing that triggers alarm bells or raises red flags. At this point, you have no reason not to believe him.

So why do you feel so unsettled?

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Not good," you mumble, bringing a hand up to your head, cringing from the pain.

He presses a kiss to your hair, holding it for several seconds before pulling away. "Oh, sweetheart..." His voice wavers with emotion. "I'll talk to the doctors again. For now, you rest up, okay?"

With such a splitting headache and sore body, you have no trouble obeying his commands. Your eyes flutter shut, and the last thing you hear is a sigh coming from him, as well as something about wanting to take you home.

...

"Easy," Hugo soothes, letting you lean on him heavily as he walks you to his house. Everything hurts from your body to your head. The medication from earlier wore off halfway to his home.

Speaking of his house, it looks pretty much like a standard home, if not kind of cute, almost reminiscent of a cottage. It's beige with dark brown trimmings. Ivy climbs around the windows.

Flower beds line along the pathway to the front door and a vegetable garden sits near the shed in the back. There's wind chimes hanging near the entrance.

"I wish I could remember any of this," you mutter as he situates you on the couch. "Sorry."

"No, no," he reassures, rubbing your upper arm. "Don't apologize, okay? It's not your fault that this happened."

"What was I doing out in the forest, anyway? You mentioned something about that... is that something I typically do?" you ask.

Hugo looks confused for a moment, then nods. "Ah. Well, it was something you'd usually do, but hopefully that will be the last time. Sometimes you get... impulsive. You do things that are reckless. That's why I'm so protective of you. This isn't the first time you got injured like that." He shakes his head and laughs. "Stubborn kid you are..."

"I see." What else can you say, really? You wish your brain would hurry up and recall something. Right now it just feels blank. All you have to go off of is Hugo. "I know I can't remember, but I'm still sorry. For what I did. Or, uh, do."

His gaze softens even more, looking like the definition of fond. "Like I said, sweetie, you don't need to worry about a thing. It's all in the past now. What matters is that you're here now, safe with me. How about I take you up to your room? You can get a nap in while I make dinner. Sound nice?" He brushes his thumb over your temple.

You wordlessly lean against him. He chuckles and helps you back up, mindful of your injuries, and leads you upstairs.

Again, it looks like a completely normal household. Nothing stands out to you besides perhaps the large number of photographs littering the walls.

Your bedroom has pastel blue wallpaper with stars decorating the top half of the wall.

There's a bunch of stuffed animals lining the bed, as well as pillows with galaxy themed pillows. The carpet is plush and your feet sink slightly in them.

"This was... mine?"

"Yes!" He seems less happy about it when he sees your expression. "Do you not like it? You decorated it yourself..."

"Isn't it kind of, uh, childish? Nothing wrong with that, of course, just doesn't seem like something someone older would want," you lamely explain.

Hugo takes another moment to mull over his words. "Well... you've always been a bit childish for your age, sweetie. I think it's adorable, and you seemed content with this room before... but if you really want to change it up, I don't mind at all." His strained smile tells you that he does, in fact, mind it.

"That's okay. I think I do like it, now that I've seen it longer," you reassure him. Part of it might be because you feel bad. You hobble over to the bed with his assistance, and watch him choose a cutesy beige pajama set. The sleeves are longer than your arms and the pants are covered in sheep patterns. "Do I normally wear that to bed?"

"More like just your typical lounge wear," he answers. "Do you need help, or can I leave you to it?"

"Um, you can leave me to it." You watch him open the door to leave. "Oh, by the way... what do I call you? By your name? Dad? Papa?"

A large smile stretches across his lips. "You call me 'Papa', but really anything works with me. Just want you to feel comfortable, bud. Oh, and dinner'll be ready soon. Tomato, chicken noodle, or cream of mushroom?"

You look down at your lap, where your pajamas lay. "What ever I liked most, I guess."

He hums in affirmation. "Sounds good."

Before long, you've changed and situate yourself on your bed, the stuffed toys huddled around you like a cocoon. Though everything seems fine and cozy, it all feels too new, too strange, for it to feel exactly right. It's supposed to be yours, you know this. And yet, it feels so... foreign.

This should make sense. Logically, it does. But your intuition keeps whispering doubts, despite Hugo giving you nothing but warmth.

...

Two weeks pass, and go by pretty uneventfully. He cares for you like you are a toddler, but he assures you this is how he used to act around you.

Still, your memory seems stubborn in recovering, and each night you pray for the morning to finally reveal a clue as to your past.

So far, nothing has shown up.

And being confined within the house doesn't help, either. Hugo refuses to let you go outside unsupervised, claiming how he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if you wound up in danger again.

And really, who are you to refuse him? You don't have any memories, any other friends (he's told you they've moved away years ago), and you have no money to sustain yourself. He's all you have.

"Where are you going?" you ask one morning, to see him slinging on a jacket. His hair is also tied up, which you've gathered he only does when he's going out somewhere.

"The cafe," he replies, though you can tell something is off by the way he smiles. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, okay? Stay inside, and I mean it."

"Can't I go with?" you suggest. Maybe seeing the place could bring back some recollections. Plus, sitting alone all day isn't fun at all, especially when there's nothing to distract you with besides watching TV or reading. Neither of those interests you that much, not to mention a majority of the books and shows catered to people less than half your age.

"Not with those injuries," he chuckles, but there's some firmness in his tone.

"I feel fine! My ankle isn't sprained anymore, and my ribs hardly bother me," you counter. Your face isn't bandaged anymore, either. Instead, only faint scars remain.

"Honey, the answer is no."

"I just want to leave the house!" you blurt. His eyebrows raise up at your outburst. "It's boring staying cooped up all day! I don't want to watch cartoons again or read a comic book or play with action figures."

He purses his lips. "But you love doing those things..."

"Yeah, sure. I don't doubt that I like those activities. But maybe sometimes I'd like to do something more, I dunno, mature." It's not that you hate the stuff Hugo's given you, but you aren't mentally ten years old or whatever age he's assuming you are. So reading picture books and playing with kiddie games get dull real fast. "Please? I don't have to do any physical labor, just wanna get outside the house..."

"(Y/n)..."

Maybe it's a tad bit manipulative, but you've found it works pretty well on him. "I just wanna spend time with my papa... if I can't remember old memories, I was hoping we'd have more time to bond..."

Hugo looks torn for a split second, before giving you a gentle grin, reaching out to pinch your cheeks. "Allllriiight," he drawls. "Wear something warm. It's chilly out."

"Why not my uniform?"

"Because I don't want you working, silly."

The drive there is an hour long, and has you wondering how on earth he makes these long treks there and back five times a week.

By the end, you're yawning and leaning against the window. He laughs, shaking you awake, helping you walk inside the cafe.

In the break room, he situates you on the couch. "I'll get you something to snack on soon. Banana bread, blueberry muffin, brownie, or chocolate chip cookie?"

You weakly smile. "What ever was my favorite?"

He snorts. "Gotcha. I'll be back soon. Don't leave this room, 'kay?" He doesn't wait for a response, quickly busying off towards the counter, throwing his apron back on.

When he's out of view, you try to relax, but as time passes on, you get bored with the things he's given you.

A coloring book, a children's storybook, and crayons litter around you. Sure, they're fun for a little while, but then you're back to square one.

You briefly contemplate if this is the reason why you kept running off to the forest often.

If he's been anything like this normally, you can imagine why you've been searching for more fun things to do.

You peak your head from the break room, to see him tending to another customer, making conversation.

"Oh, (Y/n), that you?"

You look to see one of the customers. He's a person about your age, smiling at you like you guys are friends. When you return the look awkwardly, it morphs into confusion.

"Hey, you alright?" he asks, walking closer to you. "Don't tell me you're working. Hugo told me you had a nasty fall, dude."

"Oh, I'm just here while he works," you shrug. "My memory is a bit weird, still. Who are you...?"

He blinks. "Oh. I'm Weston. We're friends. You must have it pretty bad if you can't remember me."

This is all so confusing. Hugo told you that you didn't have any friends... "Oh. Well, I'm just in the break room while Papa works." You cringe at your own wording. Still feels a bit weird, despite having grown more accustomed to calling him that now. "After he's done, we're probably just gonna go home."

Weston frowns. "Your dad? Are you talking about Hugo?" When you nod, he gives a dry laugh. "(Y/n), he's not—"

"What are you doing?" The deep voice startles you both. You turn around to see Hugo staring between the two of you, jaw tensing with some suppressed emotion. He forces a smile at Weston. "Hey, Weston, sorry, they're going through a lot as you can tell. Still in a state of constant confusion. Sorry. Did you want your usual? Croissant and cappuccino?"

He takes a small step back, but is still clearly defensive, like he's waiting for something to happen. "Yeah, no worries, Mr. Harrison. I know they hit their head hard."

Hugo nods. "I'll get started on that in a sec." He drags you back to the break room, almost slamming the door shut behind him. "Kiddo. What did I tell you?"

"I didn't technically leave... I just poked my head to see if you were busy, and that guy... Weston, I think, recognized me..." You realize his breathing sounds labored. "He said he's my friend."

"That kid?" he says incredulously, laughing. It doesn't sound humorous. It's dry and cold. "No, no, no. Sweetheart, I know everyone in this town and he most definitely isn't friends with you. (Y/n), look, you really can't trust your judgment right now." He grips your shoulders. "You gotta understand that you're hurt. Your head's not working correctly. Okay?"

You wish you could let it go, but something else he said makes you anxious. "He sounded like he was about to say you aren't my dad..."

"He's misinformed. Don't let him fill your head with lies. Now, I gotta get back to work."

"But—"

"For the love of God, just shut up, will you?" he snaps. "I barely let you come along! I should've followed my instincts, why do you have to make everything so damn difficult?"

The glint in his eyes scares you. It reminds you of something terrible, even if you can't remember. You flinch so hard you fall off the couch.

As soon as Hugo's anger came, it dissipated when he saw you trembling, backing up. You shield yourself away with your arms, expecting him to explode.

Even though you have no memory in your head, it's like your body remembers, judging by the way you recoil away from him. It's all instinctual. Even when his expression turns from angry to worried, to guilty.

"Oh no..." He kneels beside you. "Oh, I am so sorry, baby. I don't know what came over me. Here, take my hand," he offers. You reluctantly take his calloused, scarred hand. "Shh... I know, Papa can be scary, huh? I shouldn't have yelled like that. It's just that you made me so mad, scaring me like that... he's a bad person. This town is filled with them. That's why I'm so protective of you."

He's always making up excuses.

"I just wanna be left alone," you rasp. "Please."

"Okay. That's fair. If that's what you want." You expect him to fight it, but instead he gets up slowly and leaves after mumbling one final apology. After the door closes, you exhale, burying your face into your hands.

Something about what happened triggers a flashback.

"You just never know when to stop, do you? How many times have I asked you not to hang out with them?"

"Hugo, come on, you can't dictate who I hang out with. I can handle myself just fine. Now please, let me just do my job. People are staring."

"Keep up with this attitude, (Y/n), and we'll have problems."

"If you're going to fire me, might as well do so. I'm close to quitting myself."

You don't remember anything after that.

But whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

The ride home is relatively silent. Not that it's much different from his normal quietness, but it's a different kind of quiet. Deafening. Tense.

All because he lost his cool earlier. Your shoulders hunch as you try to avoid eye contact.

Finally, Hugo speaks. "Still upset?"

"Why do you care?" you mumble.

His fingers tense against the steering wheel, before relaxing. "Of course I care. I care about you more than anyone else." His eyebrows furrow with concern. "Just because I got a bit snappy back there doesn't mean I love you any less. If you weren't so reckless... but even then, I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that." He sighs deeply. "I'm sorry."

Something tells you if you don't forgive him now, he'll give you hell about it later. "It's okay."

That seems to quell his stress immensely, and he breathes out shakily, like a huge weight was taken off him. "Thank you," he murmurs. "We'll do something special tonight, okay? Movie night, maybe a pillow fort?"

"Sure." You're too tired to argue.

...

The next day, he leaves to get groceries, taking another day off work. You take that as an opportunity to snoop around, for the two hours or so he'll be gone.

Maybe something is fishy about Hugo; the way he keeps trying to keep you restrained from leaving the house is suspicious enough. And the lack of communication to the outside world, even before the fall.

No computer, internet access, cell phone... maybe your memories won't have to return for you to discover some clues.

Searching his bedroom provides nothing useful, so you continue towards his desk area.

Opening drawers, there's lots of random papers inside, which you flip through and scan through as carefully as you can.

That's when you realize one of the letters is a letter of resignation... from you, addressed to Hugo. The date isn't too long ago; in fact, it's the day before you remember having the accident.

You read through it, each sentence causing you more and more distress, until the paper is trembling in your grip.

Hugo,

I appreciate everything you've done for me since I first started working with you, but unfortunately our differences are causing more trouble than it's worth.

The incident last week truly opened my eyes. I didn't realize how toxic and controlling you were. You have isolated me from society, refused to allow me freedom, and tried to control who I hang out with and what I do.

You're my boss, but you insist on acting like my father, despite how many times I've told you that is crossing a boundary of mine.

Therefore, I regretfully inform you I will no longer work with you. This will be my two weeks notice. I'm sorry.

(Y/n)

The paper flutters to the ground. You're sweating. Isolating, controlling, manipulative behavior... it fits to a T of what Hugo's been displaying to you since the accident. Except it started long before that.

You glance around the hallway, suddenly feeling like you're in enemy territory rather than your home. But can you even call it that anymore?

All's you know, is you need to get out of here.

Running back downstairs, you begin planning what supplies to bring with you, but movement from outside catches your attention.

Rushing to the window, you see a familiar figure walking up the driveway. Your blood runs cold.

It's Hugo, carrying bags from the grocery store.

You must've lost track of time. You stumble to your room and pretend to be asleep.

Listening carefully to the noises coming from downstairs, he brings in the bags and rustling follows.

Now that you know the truth, every tiny noise causes anxiety. Why is he doing all this? Was this really all an elaborate lie, this entire situation?

And the most chilling part... was he responsible for your accident? Has it ever been an accident in the first place? As these thoughts race in your mind, your ears strain to listen to what he's doing below you.

Footsteps approach the staircase. Your heartbeat quickens and you burrow further underneath the covers. They ascend slowly.

Eventually they're right in front of your bedroom. Then, it sounds like they turn and head towards his room instead. You have to stifle a relieved sigh when he doesn't enter your room.

The relief doesn't last long.

Did you put everything away where you found it? Did you shut the drawers properly, did you cover up your tracks?

A few minutes go by, until there's a knock on the door. "Sweetheart, I'm getting started on dinner. How does mac 'n cheese sound?"

"Sure," you say, so quiet he almost doesn't hear you.

You wait until you hear his footsteps descend, then sneak into his room to make sure you put everything up.

To your relief, it looks like it, so you shuffle back downstairs, trying to put on the best neutral expression you can manage.

The last thing you'd want him to suspect is that you're onto his twisted game.

"There they are! Come sit at the table. Almost ready." He ruffles your hair gently when you take a seat. It takes everything in you not to squirm away from his touch. To keep pretending that you're blissfully oblivious. "How long were you napping for?"

"Not too long." The less you talk, the better.

"That's good." Hugo serves you a bowl full of macaroni and adds a glass of juice next to it, sitting across from you. Something about his demeanor seems different. You're sure that's just the anxiety talking. "Is something wrong, buddy? You're quieter than normal," he notes.

"Just... still kinda tired." You pick at the macaroni, hoping he doesn't press on about this.

"Awww... well, eat up, okay?"

Despite the lack of appetite, you force down the food. Every bite tastes like mush.

But if you don't finish it, you have the sinking feeling he'll know something's up. So, you force everything down, as well as the juice, which washes it down easier.

Within moments, a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. "H...Hugo..."

Hugo gives a lopsided smile, somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't want to do that, but found you messed with some of my stuff. My fault, I've been putting off getting locks for it. I swear, I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on!" He laughs. It borders on hysterical. "All I want is to be your dad... for you to let me care for you." He reaches out, brushing hair from your sweaty forehead. "But no need to worry. I doubt you'll remember any of today, anyway."

"No..." You try to stand, but end up collapsing forward. In the haze, you register being pulled upwards.

"You just can't help but be stubborn," he chastises. "Guess you got it from your old man."

"You aren't..." Your tongue begins to feel heavy, just like the rest of your body. "Not my..."

"Sleep, baby. Sleep. When you wake up, this will all just be a silly nightmare. Papa's got you. He'll always have you."

And despite your desperate attempts to stay awake, sleep eventually claims you, as black engulfs your vision.

The last thing you sense is your head being tucked underneath his chin, and hearing him hum the same melody he hummed in the hospital.

[chlix]

superbloom

bf! chan x fem! reader: you almost ruin your own proposal

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff!

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: public proposals, y/n is a bit of a mess but its ok

a/n: this is a request from @taevhs who requested reader accidentally saying no to her own proposal out of shock and stressing chan tf out (ask is linked HERE). i am SO sorry this took so long to get to 😭😭😭 i hope it was at least semi-worth the wait

The thing is: you should’ve seen it coming.

Chan is a lot of things, but he’s not subtle. Especially when he gets really into something. He’s good at disguising the planning, at worrying in private and then clearing his face when he sees you, but you know him too well. You can sense the vibe even without him saying anything.

And anyway, you’d talked about marriage before. You’d thought about wedding planning and what time of year would be best, who would you invite. You inquired about a marriage license. You planned on getting a better apartment together. You were engaged in everything but name. So really, the proposal was imminent. It was just a matter of waiting for all his plans to come to fruition. So, you played dumb when he started paying special attention to your hands and the rings you wore most often. You didn’t start fights when you noticed him texting your best friend more than usual. You pretended not to see when you saw him researching photographers on his open laptop. You were willing to play into the surprise, and honestly, you didn’t want to pry. You wanted to be enchanted and impressed when the time came. It would make it more exciting.

You must’ve had a lapse in mentality for a second, or perhaps you just had a lot on your mind that day, because when he asked if you wanted to play hooky and go on a day trip with him, you didn’t suspect a thing.

“How spontaneous,” you’d said, delighted.

He’d only smiled. “Gotta keep you on your toes, y’know.”

You didn’t notice how the nervousness pulled at his eyes as you called in sick to work and put on a cute blue dress. He suggests a white sundress, but you decline, feeling like it’s more of a blue kind of day. You don’t notice how he doesn’t comment on the choice the way he normally does.

Your destination was a botanical garden up north, a prospect that excites you. Your Instagram needed something to spruce it up and some photos against the foliage would be perfect to introduce a vernal vibe. He leads you over to a wall of hydrangeas, and helps you rearrange your hat and jewelry so they stand out in the bright afternoon sun.

"Okay so look left, now look up, now hold out your bag." He's always good at directing you for photos, copying the same directions he's been given on his various shoots, and you've become much better at taking direction the longer you've been together. 

"Okay now look at the flowers and pretend to pick off a petal. No, reach out a little farther. Okay, hold that." You hear his voice moving as he changes angles, trying to find exactly where the best shot is. Your eyes fixate on the hydrangeas, at the vast greenish blooms that are climbing up the trellises, smelling almost sickly sweet. For a moment you worry that the pale green of them might clash with your dress, but if that was the case then at least you have dozens of other photos in different locations. No great loss. Inside the bush, you can see small insects climbing along the branches. There are a few buds deep int he recesses, too young to push their way out and bloom. All whole world beneath you, sheltering in soft petals. A home for smaller creatures.

You get so distracted by the flowers themselves you don't notice that Chan has stopped speaking.

"Did you get it?" you call out. No response. You turn to where he was standing across the way.

He's gone.

Confusion settles in. Your eyes dart back and forth. "Baby? Where'd you go?" He's nowhere. You turn completely around, towards the other end of the wall of hydrangeas, and that's where you finally find Chan.....down on one knee.

Your vision immediately tunnels. His hair is out of place, as if he's been running his hands through it. He does that when he gets nervous. Your gaze darts down to see an open ring box in one hand, the gem glittering in the bright sun, nearly blinding you just from the intensity of its presence.

"Oh my god." You can't breathe. Your heart stutters in your chest.

"Y/n," he says, looking up at you with so much tenderness and love. "these past few years with you have as beautiful and perfect as a spring day. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, and I’ve never been so glad to know anyone. I never want our time together to end. I love you more than life itself.” He takes a breath then says those four words. “Will you marry me?"

Your brain short-circuits. It’s like the sun is dimming above you, your whole body struck still. You think of the hydrangeas washing out your dress, and the sun in your eyes, and all the people around watching you flounder and struggle for something to say. You’re so shocked and excited that it’s overwhelming you- cold sweat breaks out on your brow and you lose control of your mouth entirely so instead of saying a resounding "Yes!" the word that comes out is a very quiet "No..."

Chan freezes. The smile that had been spread across his face falls, his eyes dim. 

"No?" he asks, clearly unprepared for this answer. "You don't-"

His own shock snaps you out of yours and your brain kicks back into gear. Horror overwhelms you.

"Oh my god! No, no I just- I was thinking about how I look and how everyone is looking at us right now and I should've worn that white dress you suggested to me and now I've fucked up all the photos and-"

You can't tell if you're making it worse or making it better, so you give up. You grab him by the coat, haul him up, and kiss him.

Suddenly, there's movement around you, and several people burst out from behind the hydrangea bushes that surround you. You open your eyes and see all your friends and family swarming and excited. They were watching the whole thing. They’re all wearing white. Chan invited them so they could share in this happy moment with you. The people around you in the garden clap politely and call congratulations. You look up and notice someone pointing a camera at you a distance away. Chan had the whole thing filmed.

It's a picture-perfect proposal and you'd almost ruined it.

You step back from him, and god he still looks so unsure and you hate yourself for stealing even a little of his joy.

"Yes, Chan. Yes, I'll marry you. A thousand times yes."

Relief sinks into every part of his being, and he leans in to kiss you again. And then your friends and family reach you, and it's all chaos. Your friends are shattering excitedly at you about oh my god Y/N you don't know how hard it was to keep a secret we've been planning this for ages, and the guys in your friend group are clapping Chan on the back, giving more sincere congratulations than you've heard from them in years, but all of it is white noise to you. The only person who exists to you in this moment is Chan. The adrenaline slowly ekes away, and you feel more at peace, more right than you ever have before.

Later that night, you're sitting in your apartment flipping through some zines you'd picked up from the gift shop on the south end of the garden. Chan is in the kitchen putting away leftovers, and the TV is turned on low, white noise for your quiet evening. Your new ring gleams on your finger, and you can barely focus on the botanical facts you're wearing because it keeps catching your eye and distracting you with private glee.

You feel the couch dip as he sits down, and you lean into his side. His hand comes up to wrap around you automatically.

"You scared the shit out of me today," Chan says, and his tone is light but you know he's telling the absolute truth. You wince, setting the zine down and turning to face him properly.

"I was nervous about doing a public proposal," he continues. "I know you said you were okay with it but when I saw you panic I started to worry."

"I'm sorry. I really was just surprised. My mind was in a thousand different places."

You both know you have a tendency to put your foot in your mouth. It's rare you fumble on such a serious occasion, though.

"When you said no, I think my heart dropped into my stomach."

You sigh, cursing your past self for planting any seed of doubt in his mind. "I got overwhelmed. With love for you, I swear, but I started spiraling because I was so caught off guard. I regretted not wearing the white dress you told me to wear. I'd already been thinking that my blue dress clashed with the flowers, and then I realized you were proposing and I thought I'd ruined your whole plan. I felt bad.”

Chan let out a sigh, but it wasn't a tired or exasperated sigh. Instead, it was fond.

"You could've insisted on wearing sweatpants today and it wouldn't have ruined the proposal. You look beautiful in anything. All I wanted was your answer."

"You must've known that there was no way I would've said no."

"But you did."

"Out of shock! Cut me some slack, it's not every day you get proposed to! I've never done it before! I didn't know what to do with myself!"

"I've never proposed to anyone either," Chan says. "I was sweating bullets."

"I just thought it was the heat."

"You're a menace."

"I'm your fiancée," you say, and it's the first time you've said it out loud, and it fills you with so much excitement that a smile splits your face in half all over again. "I'm going to marry you soon."

Chan's smile is a twin of yours. "You are," he says. "And you've never done that either."

"We'll figure it out," you vow. "And I'll learn to watch my mouth."

"Please do. If you don't say "I do" at the altar, I'll collapse out of cardiac arrest."

"Then I guess I better start practicing," you tease. "I, F/N L/N, do take you, Christopher Bang, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I'll repeat it in the mirror every morning."

You're joking of course. You know that when the time comes to say vows, you won't be stuttering or stumbling over the words. They're already echoing in your head over and over again. You think you might start saying them in unrelated conversations, the words bursting out of you like water from a dam. I do, I do, I do.

Chan leans over, finally relaxed, and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes and bask in the attention.

Next time you’ll wear a white dress, and you won’t flinch for a second.

[reidrum]

bright lights

note: day 2 of reidrumas! this is so sickeningly cheesy pls enjoy <3

summary: in which spencer has to remind you of fire safety, or the time you hang too many lights on the christmas tree

cw: tooth rotting fluff i only warn you to pop some lactaids if you're lactose intolerant

wc: a cozy 1k

12 days of reidrumas

“I can’t believe we’re going to die before Christmas.”

You roll your eyes, “Aren’t you from Vegas? This amount of lights should not phase you.”

“I am, and you know those lights typically aren’t hung on flammable surfaces.” Spencer harps, “Please don’t put that—Oh my god, Where the hell did you get another strand of lights.”

You love Christmas. Spencer loves you. It was a no brainer for him to let you take over all of the holiday decorating festivities. He knew that Christmas was always special to a littler version of you, the joy and love that surrounded the holiday always warming your little heart. But as the years went on you would find yourself associating the crueler parts of your life with the holiday, and it would end with you looking back on the time and finding its memories to be not as magical as you would like to remember. Spencer was determined to restore that sentiment for you.

He’s just not sure if he’d risk death by string lights to get there.

“It’s not bright enough,” you pout, “maybe it needs more tinsel.”

The tree was already donned in all its opaque and crystalline ornaments, beaded and foiled tinsel draped around its branches. The tree already came with flashing lights, white and multicolored, but they weren’t nearly enough for the brightness you required. So of course it needed more lights.

“It definitely does not need more tinsel. Come on, put the lights down.”

You retract the lights in your hands to your chest defensively, “Don’t! You’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows at your theatrics, “Oh, really?”

You nod, “The Christmas spirit is only as strong as the lights hung in its name.”

“Who said that?”

“Someone really wise.”

“Surely can’t be you,” he chuckles, “We can put them somewhere else just not on the tree, it already has enough.”

You shake your head no and clutch the lights closer to your chest, “Never!”

“There’s so much space on the fireplace or the dining table!” he gestures, “even the front door!”

“I have separate lights for those, duh.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Oh my god, we’re actually gonna die.”

“Dying of the Christmas spirit is actually a great way to go.” you joke, “Prophetic, even.”

He stalks towards you slowly, “My love, please. Can we negotiate?”

“Spencer, I have to use all of the lights or they’re gonna feel left out.”

There’s a brief moment of silence between you both, staring at each other from opposite sides of the couch. You study the look in his eyes, unable to decipher what he’s thinking. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly, and to anyone else they wouldn’t have caught it but he is Your Spencer after all and so it really should not have caught you off guard when he makes a break to catch you.

You squeal as you take off running into the kitchen, Spencer trailing not so far behind you. He’s cornered you on the far side of the middle kitchen counter, prepared for any direction you decide to make your exit from. You try to fake him out by pretending to go one way and then making a quick escape the other way, just barely making it past him as you book it down the hallway.

You slow down at the end of the hallway, thinking you’ve finally made it to safety. You bend over slightly to catch your breath when it’s suddenly whisked away again as strong hands catch you off guard, gripping your waist and picking you up from the floor.

“Hey!” you giggle, feigning struggle in his arms.

He whispers in your ear, “Gotcha.”

The flutter in your stomach betrays your tone, “I think you hate Christmas.”

His hands tighten around you as he sets you down, not letting go, “I don’t hate Christmas, I actually love it very much. I love you much more, and I would like to spend as many Christmases as I can with you. I can’t do that if the lights burn us down, sweet girl.”

You huff in fake annoyance, you know he’s right but he doesn’t need to know that. Begrudgingly, you can admit to yourself that the tree may have enough lights. You’re honestly surprised how he didn’t make a joke about how the International Space Station could see your tree from all the way up there. Your eyes flit around the room looking for a good place to hang the string lights in your hands.

Your face lights up with an idea, “You know what I think really needs a touch of the holiday spirit?” you carefully drape the lights around his whole body and plug it into a nearby outlet and smile, “Ah, perfect.”

The lights illuminate the shape of his body from head to toe, casting a soft glow that only seems to glow brighter as Spencer tries to hide a smile and fails miserably, resulting in the most adorable and dorky face you’ve ever seen.

He glances down at the outlet, “Am I not allowed to move?”

You put your finger on your chin, “Hmm…”

“What if I make us hot chocolate?”

You walk towards him gently draping your arms around his neck, “I don’t know…”

“With peppermint?”

Intrigued, the ghost of a smile teases your face, “I’m listening…”

He sighs and rests his hands on your hips, “We can put on matching pajamas?”

You beam widely, “Okay, I’m sold. Just wanted to see how far you’d go.” You detach from him giddily, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and running off to the kitchen to get the mugs ready.

Spencer unplugs himself and walks into the bedroom,  rummaging through the dresser drawers to get the pajamas for you both. He chuckles to himself thinking how you were testing him to see how far he’d go, and you didn’t even know the full extent of exactly how far that is. His hand brushes over the velvet box buried beneath his mismatched socks and hopes that you’ll test the full extent soon.

Until then, he’ll make sure to keep you safe from festive fire hazards and satiated with peppermint hot cocoa.

[holybibly]

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k

𝔖𝔲��𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.

𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.

𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.

You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary,"  before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed. 

Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives.   The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner. 

"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.

You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted. 

It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair. 

"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once. 

The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.

There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.

The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.

One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.

As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.

"Hello, my dear."

You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."

"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.

Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.

"Something like that."

"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.

"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.

Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.

"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?

"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.

"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.

Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?

"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.

"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.

Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.

"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"

"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."

There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.

His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?

"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."

"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.

"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."

A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.

"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."

"F-Father…"

"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "

You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"

"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.

Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.

"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."

He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.

"Shall I show you?"

"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.

"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"

You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.

He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.

"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?

He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.

"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.

The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.

"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.

He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.

"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.

"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.

"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.

You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.

You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.

"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."

You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.

As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.

"You have to undress completely, darling."

You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.

"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.

You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.

"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.

"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."

The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.

"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.

"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.

"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.

"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."

You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."

It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.

"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth. 

Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.

"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.

Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.

He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.

"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.

"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"

You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."

You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.

"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.

"Look at me, my darling."

Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.

Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.

"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.

"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.

"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.

God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.

From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.

He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.

"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."

You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.

He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.

"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."

He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.

"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.

"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.

All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".

"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."

Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.

You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.

"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.

You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.

Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.

"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."

You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.

"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."

"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.

"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.

"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.

"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.

"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.

You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.

He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.

"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.

With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.

"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."

He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.

Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.

And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.

"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."

From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.

"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.

"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"

You lowered your eyes in shame.

He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.

"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."

"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."

"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."

Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.

It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.

"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.

"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.

He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.

"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.

"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.

Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.

"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"

"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.

"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.

Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind.    "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."

[kyri45]

I'm making this post since there's an italian idiom "a Natale, siamo tutti più buoni" (during Christmas, we are all more good) and while I prefer to keep this blog for only my art, today is a day where most of us can do something good, even if small.

If you, just like me and many lucky others, are able to spend this Christmas at home, with warm food and a place to call home, please take a moment to help, spread awareness, or even just think about those who can't.

These are some sources I wish just to spread, because I know it can be overwhelming to wanting to help in some ways, but don't know how or who, or even if the source asking is attendible.

el-shab-hussein and nabulsi's spreadsheet is, I think the most known one for vetted fundraisers.

gazafunds.com has one highlighted campaign you can donate to if you don't know which one you should or want donate to.

Operation Olive Branch’s spreadsheet also has other links with alternative ways to help, including donating directly to the municipality, to family shops, and other resources as well.

Here's some of the people (listed) that you can help today:

@suad-khaled (line 279) gofund

"Can you imagine being stripped of safety at the happiest moment of your life? I’m Suad, a young mother from Gaza, where I gave birth to my son Khaled amidst the chaos of w@r. I urgently need your support to secure shelter and medical care for Khaled. You can be part of our story, as every bit of help makes a real difference."

Suad Alkurdi (line 55) gofund

"My name is Souad Al-Kurdi, I am 32 years old, from northern Gaza. I have three children, Wissam, Karim, and Adam. My husband is diabetic and does not take insulin doses and treatment due to their lack of availability in Gaza. My children suffer from diseases due to pollution and malnutrition. We need money to travel to Egypt and build the future of our children there. Travel requires $9,000 per person, and this needs your support."

Jehad Abuhamda's relatives (line 137) gofund

Hello, my name is Jehad Abuhamda. I’m an American/ Palestinian who is seeking for your support in helping me get my close relatives out into safety. My relative lived a hard life after having is right hand amputated from the remnants of Israeli explosives in a previous war. Despite that, it did not hinder him from working in order to provide for his family. But now that he has lost his home, and with the worsening living conditions, He has decided that it is best to leave for the sake of his children.

Of course, be sure to check your local organizations to help those in need of shelter and food, especially if you live in a very cold area!

And remember that if you can't donate, you can always share AND boycott!

Also if I need to edit anything in this post, just let me know.

[aellesira]

— YOU'RE ENGAGED??

pairings, various x reader. (albedo, alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kinich, neuvillette, venti) summary, how does he react when he accidentally hears that you're getting engaged to someone who's not him? content, ooc characters potentially, unrequited love, slight jealousy.

notes, if someone wants like a part 2 like an aftermath please let me know ! or any asks really <3

“Wait wait wait! Hold on just a moment!!! N-no way this is true!! (Name), you’re… ENGAGED??!” 

The Traveler’s silver-haired, fairy-like companion, Paimon, visibly wasn't able to keep her surprise and excitement to herself. She and the Traveler had known you since forever, so when he heard that you were going to get married soon just seemed like something so surreal to her; to both of them. And yes, immediately, the Traveler created a mental list of potential fiances, since you were set on hiding the person’s identity until the wedding out of your own embarrassment.

“Sh-shush!! Paimon!! People are going to find out! I’m trying to keep this under wraps until a few weeks before the wedding!! But… Yes, I am.” Some passerby turned their heads at Paimon’s outburst, and your cheeks suddenly felt warm. But your eyes were alive with an unbridled excitement and anticipation for your wedding, because you were truly happy with this arrangement.

“Well,” the Traveler, also your best friend, Aether, stepped towards you, before enveloping you in a hug. This had been a dream of yours since forever, he was so happy for you! “You’ll invite us to your wedding, won’t you?” Aether joked, but he already knew you would. Of course, neither he nor Paimon would miss it, even if it took some time away from their journey on Teyvat as this was something they both wanted to be here for.

“There’s no way I wouldn't! You know…” But for someone who happened to be listening in on you, the rest of your conversation tuned out as time suddenly stood still for said person as he thought about what had just come out of your lips.

—

ALBEDO.

Happened to stumble upon you all by chance.

One time, Sucrose told him that he’d been writing the wrong formula for some chemical for some time now, he was doing this absent-mindedly, and she understood that something was distracting him. 

So, in order to get rid of the distraction, he confided in her the odd feelings that he felt whenever you’d come around to help. Sucrose chalked it up to a crush.

A crush… Albedo didn’t understand fully what it meant to “have a crush” on someone. 

But maybe, just maybe… the tightening feeling in him… was part of that “having a crush”. He did know, however, that he didn’t like this at all.

ALHAITHAM.

Was sort of surprised to hear about it at first.

When he went back home to his books, the word “marriage” somehow came up in his texts, and he remembered what he’d heard earlier.

Skipped past that page as the chapter later branched into a new topic, but he was still thinking.

Though he’d never seen you as a potential romantic partner before, he couldn’t deny the distaste he felt as he pondered the idea of you being called someone else’s wife. 

Still, doesn’t want to think that he feels anything for you.

CYNO.

He’d actually been infatuated by you for quite a while, and he’d only told Tighnari about this.

Because of his job as the General Mahamatra, he knew that if he tried to pursue a relationship with anyone, it would put their life at risk: so in this case, it would put your life at risk. So in the end he just decided it would be best if he kept his feelings to himself.

Who knew that you’d be snatched up by some other man so soon? Well, he had anticipated it… but perhaps he should’ve done something about his feelings before it was too late. And now it was.

Finds himself trying to find out about this person when he’s supposed to be doing his job.

KAVEH.

Stunned, but knows he should’ve expected this. He’s absolutely heartbroken.

He makes an effort to avoid you whenever he can, drowning himself into his architectural work and goes out to drink more often. 

He accidentally spills his emotions to Alhaitham one evening when he came home after drinking particularly heavily one night. Alhaitham doesn't quite comfort him, the two having a strained relationship after all… but Alhaitham did know about your engagement before Kaveh did, but he chose not to tell him himself.

In the end, he accepts that he’s lost you, drowning himself in his work more often.

KINICH.

Mualani was walking with him when this happened, and she hadn’t known about Kinich’s infatuation with you, so she kinda fist-bumped the air in a fit of giggles, she was so happy for you! So happy that she didn’t realize Kinich was walking away until a bit too late.

He goes on with his day, his thoughts somehow always tracing back to you no matter what they were.

In reality, it doesn’t affect Kinich the way it might affect someone else, and that was solely because Kinich understood he had a price to pay for not acting on his feelings quick enough. He didn’t even know if he had the courage to ever try anyway.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t upset though.

NEUVILLETTE.

Being the Chief Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette never had the time for relationships. Not until he met you, when he found himself wanting to see you happy, liking it whenever you visited him, for any personal matter or work-related. 

The reason he didn’t tell you how he felt was because he was always so busy, and for some time it didn’t occur to him that he didn’t exactly have eternity to spend with you.

Even though the look on his face is apathetic, he truly does feel remorse for not telling you how he felt before it was too late. It rained heavily for the rest of that day.

VENTI.

Doesn’t take it seriously. But perhaps he was just denying it in his mind; you couldn’t be engaged. You were his best friend, how would you have time for him if you had a husband?

Spends his days with you normally, even forgetting what had occurred earlier and enjoying his time with you more – not that he notices how you don’t look at him much at all anymore.

One day while at the tavern, drunk and playing his songs for anyone who spared him a glance, he heard some gossip, as he does whenever he’s there – but it’s about you. You, and that hottie who is your fiance, how cute you guys looked together, how–

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like hearing that.

[steveseddie]

don’t wait for the sky to clear

steddie | rating: t | wc: 1,7k | cw: none | tags: steve has a crush, eddie has no impulse control, flirting, pet names

for @steddie-spooktober day one, prompt “rain”

read here on ao3

Steve almost doesn’t hear the knock on the door— barely audible over the heavy rain that’s been falling over Hawkins for most of the evening. 

Then he almost ignores it, ready to wave it off as the wind making some tree branches knock against the side of the house, mostly because he’s convinced no one would be stupid enough to set foot outside in this downpour.  

But then he hears it again. Louder, more insistent, definitely not a branch knocking against the house.

Frowning, Steve turns off the TV, cutting off the commentators narrating the basketball game that has kept him mildly entertained since the rain started. As he pads over to the door, his eyes dart towards the nail bat resting against the wall and he wonders if he should reach for it, if it’s possible that what’s waiting on the other side of the door is actually monster, flushed out by the rain like sewer rats during a flood. 

Steve shakes his head. “Chill out, Harrington,” he mutters to himself, “Monsters don’t knock.” 

And so Steve swings the door open and is immediately hit by the sharp biting cold— and the sight of a soaked Eddie Munson, shivering on his porch. 

“Eddie?” Steve asks, voice laced with shock. 

Eddie shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “There you are! Thought you were gonna leave me out here to drown.”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t actually expect anyone to be out here.”

“Well—” Eddie holds his hands out in a ta-da gesture, “—Surprise!”

“I am surprised. What the hell are you doing out here in this storm, man? You’re drenched! Did you fucking bike here or something?”

“Nope, I drove, of course,” Eddie explains, waving a hand at the van parked in Steve’s driveway. “But I spent the last twenty minutes pacing in the rain so there’s that.”

Steve sputters. “Why?” 

“It helps clear my head,” Eddie says with a shrug, like that makes perfect sense. It doesn’t. 

“And you decided to do it in front of my house because—” Steve trails off, hoping Eddie will elaborate. 

“Convenience,” Eddie says, which doesn’t actually explain anything. Then he bites his lip nervously. “You see, Stevie, I have something to tell you.” 

Steve tears his eyes away from Eddie’s pink lips, narrowing them at him. “And you couldn’t, I don’t know, call me?” 

Eddie shakes his head, sending droplets of water flying, hitting Steve’s face. “It’s not something I wanted to say over the phone,” he admits, scruffing his feet against the floor, deliberately not meeting Steve's gaze.

Steve’s eyes dart to the bat again. He tenses up, fear bubbling up inside him. “Oh shit, are you seeing things? Is it Vecna again? Fuck, it’s only been a few months, it was supposed to be fucking over. Christ, do we need to call a code red? Do we—”

“Steve, hey, breathe,” Eddie cuts in, stepping into the house, trailing water all over Steve’s entryway, the wind swinging the door shut behind him. He grabs Steve’s shoulders, digging his thumbs into his collarbones to get his attention. “It’s not Vecna, it’s not the Upside Down, everything’s fine. Stevie, look at me.”

Steve does, hazy eyes taking a moment to focus on Eddie— his limp soaked hair, his drenched clothes, his nose and cheeks both red from the cold. 

“You look like a wet rat,” Steve says, swallowing a few times to get rid of the lump that lodged itself in his throat as he spiraled. 

Eddie huffs out a snort. “I know,” he says, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes Steve want to kiss it. “Not a particularly attractive look, which isn’t ideal considering what I’m here to do.”

Steve disagrees, he finds Eddie plenty attractive like this, but he lets the comment slide to ask, “And what’s that?”

Eddie bites his lip. “Please don’t freak out on me again.” 

“I thought you said it wasn’t the Upside Down—” Steve says, raising his eyebrow. 

“It’s not, it’s— fuck, it’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic. You’re a good guy, you’re not gonna freak out even if you don’t—” He trails off, gesturing vaguely. 

“Even if I don’t what?”

Eddie lets out a puff of air. “Even if you don’t like me back,” he says and Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. “‘Cause what I came here to do— the reason why I was pacing in the rain, probably catching pneumonia or something— was to ask you out. On a date. With me.”

Steve’s stomach flip flops. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees lightning flash in the distance. “Right now?” He asks, glancing at the window as thunder follows, the rain refusing to let up even for a minute. “Because I’d love to, Eds, but I really don’t want to go out in a storm—”

Eddie makes a pained expression. “No, sweetheart, not right— Wait.” He blinks as Steve’s words register. “‘You'd love to’?” He asks, his voice an octave higher. 

Steve nods, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters. His hands, which up to this point were still on Steve’s shoulders, fall to his sides as he stands there, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“What? You thought I’d say no?” Steve asks, tilting his head. “That I’d freak out?” 

Eddie shrugs. "I just thought that if you liked me too, you would’ve asked me out already!”

“I thought about it,” he says, eliciting a squeal from Eddie. “But Eds, I’ve only ever been in one relationship and I fucked it up. I didn’t want to do the same with you.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says softly, lips pursing as he thinks over something. “Well, I’ve never been in a relationship so technically I haven’t fucked up any so maybe our odds will balance each other out, y’know?” 

That doesn’t sound right to Steve, but Eddie is grinning at him and he just asked him out on a date, and Steve can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

“Okay,” he agrees, unable to stop himself from grinning too. “Then yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you, Eddie.” 

Flustered but obviously pleased, Eddie plays with his hair, water dripping from the wet curls. 

“Can I ask you something too?”

“You just did,” Eddie says with a smirk. When Steve half-heartedly rolls his eyes, he adds, “But yeah, I’ll allow it.” 

“What made you do this right now in the middle of a storm?” He asks, an amused tilt to his voice. 

“Well, I was talking to our favorite redhead on the phone, just shooting the shit, y’know? So after like, the third time I said, um, that I missed you, she told me I was pathetic and that I should drive over here and ask you out already so—” Eddie shrugs, “—I did. I don’t think she expected me to just hang up on her and take off in the middle of the storm, and honestly neither did I, not until I was doing it.”

Steve shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, “but hey, I was missing you too, y’know.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, giddy and disbelieving at the same time. 

“Of course, Eds.” 

Eddie giggles, high-pitched and cute. “Well, hopefully you won’t miss me too much now.” He glances at the window, lips pursed. “Since I should probably head back.” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit in a frown. “No way, you’re not going out in this rain again,” he says, “you can stay here and I’ll let you borrow something to wear.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, yielding all too easily.

Steve smirks triumphantly. “Good, now let’s get you out of those clothes.” 

Eddie lets out a squeak, clutching his chest. “Harrington! At least buy me dinner first!”

“Hey, you asked me out, so you are buying me dinner,” Steve says, wagging his finger in Eddie’s face, who pretends to try to bite it off. “Right now I’m just making sure you don’t get hypothermia.”

“How chivalrous of you, sweetheart,” Eddie says, eyelashes fluttering, a pretty pink blush covering his cheeks. 

Steve hates to leave the sight of a flustered Eddie, but since he arrived his shivering has gotten worse and Steve is worried he’s actually going to catch something. 

“Wait here,” he says, heading upstairs to his room. There, he grabs some old sweatpants, a cozy green sweater he’d love to see Eddie in and a pair of fuzzy socks Robin got him for his birthday last year. Fighting a blush, he also grabs some boxers. Finally, he stops by the bathroom to grab a towel so Eddie can dry his hair. 

He goes back downstairs where he follows the water path and finds Eddie, not in the entryway but in the living room, going through the Harringtons’ VHS collection.

“My, my, my, Stevie! What’s this?” He asks when he sees Steve, holding up a tape to him with a playful smirk. 

Steve recognizes it as one of the Star Wars movies— not the one he likes, with the teddies. 

“Oh, that’s Henderson’s,” Steve says, dumping the clothes on the couch and joining Eddie. “He must’ve left it here.”

“‘Left it here’, uh huh,” Eddie says, doing air quotes with his fingers. “Just admit you like it. That you’re a nerd!” 

Steve smirks. “No, but I like you, nerd,” he says, cupping Eddie’s cheeks with his hands and tilting his head forward so he can press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. 

When he pulls back, Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, his face bright red.

“Cute,” Steve says, out loud this time, which only makes Eddie blush even harder. 

“Jesus H. Christ, if hypothermia doesn’t kill me, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a shaky laugh, tugging some hair in front of his face, “you might.”

“If you die before you can take me on a date,” Steve says, hands on his hips, “I will.”

Eddie sniggers. “Not even death could keep me from taking you out, Stevie! I would crawl out of hell just to have dinner with you! I would brave one thousand storms!” 

Steve laughs, interrupting Eddie’s dramatics and steering him towards the downstairs bathroom, picking up the clothes on the way. “Okay, you weirdo, come on.” 

Eddie doesn’t put up any more resistance and finally changes into Steve’s clothes. Afterwards, they watch the movie that Henderson may or may not have left behind and they cuddle— to warm Eddie up, of course. 

They both agree it doesn’t count as their first date, but when the rain finally stops and Eddie leaves, he still kisses Steve goodnight. 

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 6- Undeniable

Summary: when your car breaks down, you’re forced to ask Frankie for help. You’re not sure what you hate more- that you have to ask him for help, or that there’s a part of you that maybe can tolerate him

Word count: 6.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, tension (in a good way??!!), yearning (AHHH), teenage Frankie (and current day Frankie, for that matter) are down so bad, Santi and Benny play Dr. Phil

A/N: okay I said there would be smut this chapter, but I am a liar, and I am sorry 🤥 I flip flopped some scenes around and it ended up making more sense for some ✨things✨ to happen next chapter instead 🤷🏼‍♀️ I seriously love these two more and more every chapter, and this may have been my favorite one to write so far!! Thank you SO much for all the kind things you’ve had to say about this story- it really means more to me than you know 🥺💛 (sorry for any errors, I didn't have time to edit this chapter as well as I should have!)

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Age 18, Summer of 2007

“Jesus Christ, Morales, you got bricks for feet, or what?”

The Garcia’s newly installed basketball hoop had been a welcome addition to the neighborhood rotation of afterschool hangouts. Santi knows just as well as Frankie and Benny that it’s really nothing but a ploy to keep the boys occupied and out their parent’s hair, but the three have gladly accepted the olive branch Santi’s parents have extended to them, regardless of motive.

Now that the heat of late May has begun to sear off the pavement of Everett Street and the dwindling motivation of senior year is in full force, basketball has quickly taken over as the new after school activity.

Benny and Santi love it because it gives them a chance to get out the competitive angst they’ve had locked away since football season has come to a close.

Frankie loves it because it gives him something to keep him occupied until you come home from soccer practice.

Even then, he still finds himself anxiously counting down the minutes until your car pulls into the driveway, stepping out of the driver’s seat to give him that same goofy wave of approval that frees him from his friends’ constant bickering about where the three point line lays on the cement.

Ever since he told you he was leaving, there’s a part of him that debates forgoing basketball all together, just so he can make it to your house that much quicker when you get home. Now more than ever, he’s hyper aware of every second he has left with you, the internal countdown constantly nagging in the back of his mind before it’s four hundred miles that separate the two of you, not four houses.

Because now, not only does he have 74 days left to figure out how to say goodbye to his best friend, he has 74 days left to figure out how to tell her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

That’s what’s on Frankie’s mind as the pass Santi’s thrown at him rolls right past his shoes and down the driveway.

No shit, he’s got bricks for feet.

“Helloooooo? Earth to Frankie? You gonna get the fuckin’ ball, or what?” Santi shouts, wildly waving his arms, trying to snap his friend out of whatever weird daydream he’s stuck in.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Frankie stammers, half jogging for the bouncing ball, tossing it back to Benny, also barely paying attention enough to keep the rubber from smacking him upside the head.

“Fuck, dude, you tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’? A heads up would be nice next time!” Benny scoffs, trying to downplay the fact he’s nearly just shit his pants from the ball that came out of nowhere and almost took him out.

“S-sorry. My bad.” Frankie grimaces, sheepishly running his hand through his thick, messy curls before rubbing the back of his neck.

Santi and Benny exchange confused glances with each other before turning their attention back to their clearly pre-occupied friend.

“Hey, you good, man?” Santi asks, scrunching his brow at Frankie’s tortured scowl.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been like, super out of it the past couple of days. Everything okay?” Benny adds. He tries to discreetly nudge Santi, givinging him a look that’s meant to ask if there’s something he’s missing. The best Santi can give him back is an ambivalent shrug, just as lost as his friend as to why Frankie’s mentally residing on another planet.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.”

Sure, Santi and Benny aren’t as emotionally mature as their friend, but they also aren’t stupid. It’s obvious there’s something he’s keeping from them, and they’re far too relentless to let it go until they find out.

“Dude… C’mon.” Santi prods, taking a step towards Frankie to poke him on the shoulder.

��Yeah, spill the fuckin’ beans, Frank. What the hell’s goin’ on?” Benny chimes in, following Santi’s lead with another forceful poke.

“It’s nothing! Jesus, will you drop it?”

Santi smirks at how agitated Frankie’s become, spending enough years with his friend to know there’s one thing, and one thing only that’s got him this worked up.

“Is this about Kenz?”

Frankie’s eyes dart rapidly between his friends, the sky and his feet, too afraid to settle in one place as he’s consumed by his own silence, crossing his arms over his chest as he braces himself to defend against the onslaught he’s about to be faced with.

He could lie, say no, keep arguing with Santi and Benny until he’s blue in the face, but he knows it’s no use. Deep down, he has a feeling they already know what he’s going to say. He also has a feeling he’ll never go a day for the rest of his life where they won’t give him ten pounds of shit for it, but Frankie’s desperate. If he doesn’t figure out what to do, there’s a good chance he just may explode.

“You have to swear you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” Frankie sternly sighs, eyeing down his friends with a deathly glare, “Swear you won’t.”

“We swear, man.”

“Yeah, we swear.”

Benny and Santi nod in agreement, too shocked at his agreement to tell them anything rather than asking them to fuck off and leave him alone. They wait in patient silence as Frankie takes a long, shaky deep breath in.

“I um- fuck. Fuck.” He stammers, terrified to hear himself admit what he’s had locked away in his brain for years out loud for the first time, “I’m uh- I think I’m in love with MacKezie. I think I’m in love with her and I don’t know what to do.”

Frankie’s mortified by the silence from his friends in the seconds that follow. He’s even more mortified by their howling laughter that comes after that.

“That’s it? Oh, thank God!” Santi cackles, him and Benny clutching their chests to try and keep themselves standing, “Dude, I thought you were gonna say something fucking crazy. You looked like you were gonna fucking throw up.”

“W-what? Santi, did you not just hear what I fucking said? I literally just told you-”

“That you’re in love with MacKenzie? News flash, Morales, we’ve known you’ve been in love with her since like, the eighth grade. Holy shit, I can’t believe you finally fucking admitted it!”

Frankie’s face grows hotter by the second, his cheeks ablaze with bright reds and pinks, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by what he’s admitted, or the fact that he’s worked himself up for weeks to finally tell his friends something they’ve already known for years and Frankie was too blind to realize it.

“Well, okay- I just- what am I- what am I gonna do?” Frankie stutters, throwing his hands up to the sky, very aware that the admittance of his love for you is only a small part to his greater problem.

“Whatta you mean, what are you gonna do?” Benny questions, he and Santi still giggling over how frantic and flustered Frankie still was.

“It’s not fuckin’ rocket science, Frank.” Santi smirks, giving him a playful nudge, “Just tell her that you love her.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Santi?! I can’t just tell her I love her, that’s- fuck, that’s crazy!” Frankie’s all but shouting at his friend for what feels like the most outrageous idea he’s ever heard, crazily pacing up and down the driveway, as if he’s asking his friends for advice on where to hide the body he’s just killed.

“And that would be crazy because….?” Santi teases, anxiously awaiting whatever ridiculous answer Frankie has to finish off the rest of his sentence.

“Because?!” Frankie asks, storming so fast up and down the driveway, he’s about to make fresh cracks in the concrete, “Because, b-because- fuck, Santi, what if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship forever and then I get my fuckin’ heart broken and lose my best friend? Jesus Christ, that’s why.”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Benny proposes, shrugging at Santi.

In a silent agreement, Santi gives Benny a nod, taking a step towards Frankie to grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand still enough to capture his full attention.

“Frankie, lemme ask you this.” Santi pauses, bringing Frankie’s gaze from his feet up to his friend, thinking for once in his life, he may actually be willing to give him some serious advice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you blind, or are you stupid? ‘Cause I think you may be both.”

“What the fuck, dude?!” Frankie scoffs over Santi and Benny’s snickering, outstretching his arms to push Santi off of him.

“Damn, maybe he is.” Benny grimaces overdramatically, playing into Santi’s theatrics.

“Fuck off, Benny!” Frankie frowns, starting to regret asking his friends for help.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I really have to spell this out for you.” Santi sighs, squeezing his temples between his thumb and index finger.

“What!?” Frankie presses, nearly fed up with his antics.

“Shit, you’re right Benny, he may be dumber than we thought.” Santi snorts before quickly turning his attention back to Frankie, “Frankie… You do realize MacKenzie’s in love with you too, right?”

Frankie feels his heart stop. He’s partly convinced it’s flatlined indefinitely. The only thing that’s keeping him alive is even the tiniest chance that what Santi has to say is actually true.

That maybe, just maybe, you love him, too.

“Santi, c’mon. Be- be fucking serious. There’s no way.”

Frankie won’t let himself believe anything yet, no matter how badly he wants to. Knowing Santi, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s trying to pull him in to some sick sort of joke, but the looks on his, and Benny’s faces is all the earth shattering reassurance Frankie needs to know that Santi’s telling the truth.

“He’s being serious, I swear.” Benny chimes in, trying to aid in convincing Frankie.

“Think about it, Frank. The two of you spend every fucking second together. You’re basically already dating without actually dating. And not even just because of the fact you like, pretty much go on dates to the movies or ice cream, or whatever. Didn’t you say she cried for like, an hour when you told her you were leaving?”

“I- I mean, y- yeah, I guess.”

“Or the fact that she’s never dated anyone else and has had you locked in as her prom date since last year.” Benny adds.

“Don't even get me started on the fact you two cuddle every time we watch a movie together, because God forbid you’re not touching each other for an hour and a half.”

“I- I- I- don’t know. I mean, sure, yeah, but just because she does that doesn’t mean she’s in love with me!”

Frankie can feel his insides churn, like someone’s put them in a blender and cranked it on high. He’s not sure what’s more terrifying- that you do all those things but you’re not in love with him, or that you do all of them because you are.

He quickly comes to determine the second is much scarier than the first. Mostly because there’s a part of him that believes maybe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Frankie’s knees wobble as he sinks to the ground, bottom hitting the pavement with a thud.

“Well shit, don’t do it on the driveway, my mom’s gonna kill me. If you gotta yak, at least do it on the grass.”

Santi and Benny settle in on either side of Frankie, the trio of boys squatting at the edge of the driveway. Frankie buries his head in his hands, scrunching his face so hard into his sweaty palms that maybe, some sort of reasonable idea will pop into his brain if he squeezes hard enough.

“You guys really think she likes me? Like, actually?” Frankie asks, peeking his head up to look back and forth between Santi and Benny.

“Uh, yeah.” The pair agree in unison, each giving their friend a pat on the back, trying to keep their all-knowing laughter at bay to soothe Frankie through his distress.

“Fuck. Holy shit. So- So what do I do? Just- Do I just tell her?”

“I mean, I’m no love guru, but you like, may wanna be a little more subtle than that.” Benny snickers, giving Frankie a little nudge, “I mean, do you wanna tell her?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck, I wanna tell her so bad.” It spills out of Frankie’s mouth without any hesitation. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is.

“Like, you’re already going with her to prom and stuff. You could do it then?” Santi suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Damn, alright, Mr. Romance over here with the advice.”

“Shut up, Benny. You got any better advice? At least I’ve fuckin’ had a girlfriend before, you dingus, have you? Didn’t think so.”

Frankie’s completely blocked out their bickering, lost in his own train of thought, where all he can picture is you- Your smile, the little strand of hair that you tuck behind your ear when it falls in your face, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the little curl in your lips you get when you smirk at him when he tells a stupid joke.

How badly he wishes his lips could meet yours to feel that smirk pressed against his face.

“Do… Do you- Do you think I should kiss her?”

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, what are we, twelve?” Yeah, man, fuckin’ kiss her.” Santi snorts, Benny joining in with muffled laughter in his throat at the innocence of his question, “God, with how nervous you sounded, I thought you were gonna ask if you should like, have sex with her, or somethin’.”

It’s then his brain truly short circuits, his heart about to fall out of his ass and lump in his throat the size of a softball.

He has enough balls to admit he’s thought plenty of times about kissing you.

But right now, he certainly doesn’t have enough balls to confess to his friends, (or even to himself, for that matter) he’s spent just as much time thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you.

He’s spent even more time thinking about just how badly he wants to.

One step at a time, Morales.

You, Present

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Turning over your ignition to the sound of empty rattles once wasn’t anything to worry about.

Turning it over twice to the sound of silence you could chalk up to bad luck.

But after six different attempts to start your car to no avail, you were fairly certain your issue wasn’t based solely on user error.

“Fuck…” You huff to yourself, yanking out your keys and slamming the driver’s side door behind you as you storm back into the house, now in a race against the clock to get your car not only started, but driveable enough to get you to work on time.

It’s the stupid things like this you haven’t mentally prepared yourself for when it comes to your father’s impending death- Not having a built in mechanic at your disposal to help solve your car issues when something goes awry. It seems selfish to take from the few precious moments you have left with him to pester your dad about your car troubles, but you know for a fact, your dying father has a better chance of diagnosing your issue from his bed than you do hands deep in the engine.

“Hey, Dad.” You grimace, gently rousing him from his half-awake state in front of the TV, “Dad, can I ask you something, or are you too busy dying?”

Your joke is enough to crack a sleepy smile in the corner of his lips, grunting as he turns his head over to see you hunched over the edge of his bed.

“Depends. Is it worth my time, or should I go back to decaying?” He fights with everything in him to let out the softest laugh, a sputtering cough following as his chest rises and falls, trying his best to not let his final days prevent him from being the helpful dad you’d always known.

“My car won’t start. Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

“You gonna wheel me out to the driveway to have me figure it out?”

You both know it’s ridiculous, what you’re asking him to do. You’re not sure what compelled you to think that he’d be able to help solve your problem, but your yearning for the normalcy that’s been absent in your life for so long seems to outweigh any logic.

“I think we could probably crank the bed high enough for you to look under the hood.” You shrug with a sad type of sarcasm, anxiously fiddling with your fingers to try and brainstorm a solution to your time-sensitive issue.

“You know there’s someone four houses down who is very capable of solving your problem who isn’t dying.”

For as hard as your dad fought for his half huffed laugher, he fights even harder for the smug smirk pinching the corner of his cheeks.

“Dad…” You let out a deep breath, trying to not let your eyes roll to the back of your skull from even pondering the idea of admitting to Frankie Morales that you need his help.

“Mackenzie Grace?” He questions back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of your reason for dramatic pause.

“Dad, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Dead serious. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where that statement can’t be any closer to the truth.”

Unfortunately, that’s an argument you can’t fight.

You sigh again, chewing at your lip to see if your brain can muster any other plausible solution before you admit defeat, but you know it’s no use. Your dad is kind enough to accept your silence as a white flag, sparing you the embarrassment of admitting he’s right. What he’s not kind enough to do, is to let you off without making sure he gets the last word.

“You can’t stay mad at him forever, honey.”

“I can, actually.”

Right now, your dad better thank his lucky stars he’s dying, because any other circumstance, and you would have already been halfway out the door before you put yourself through this conversation again.

“MacKenzie,” He pauses, the frail and wrinkled ends of his fingertips reaching out just enough to rest on the hand you have wrapped around the bar of his bed guard rails, “if I give you some dying words of wisdom, do you promise to listen, actually listen to what I have to say?”

You know he’s about to tell you something you have no intention of wanting to hear. You want so badly to lie, to say “yes”, just to appease him without really meaning it. But the guilty conscious eating you alive in the pit of your stomach won’t let you get off that easily.

“Yeah, I promise.”

It’s soft enough for only you and him, just quiet enough to keep the world out of your shared secret.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either. I’d be willing to bet he’s still holding one against you, too. There’s two sides to every story, MacKenzie Grace, and you can’t keep blaming him like you didn’t have a part in what happened, too. He’s already accepted he’s in the wrong for what he did. God bless the fact you ended up just as stubborn as your old man, but at some point, you have to get off your high horse and do the same.”

It’s unsettling, the feeling that washes over you- it makes every inch of your body twinge and wince in a strange sort of self-inflicted pain you can’t shake, the indescribable discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and evaporate into thin air. The tormented sensation stirring in your gut makes you want to scream and cry and run away, all at the same time.

Because it’s not the truth of your dad’s words alone that make you feel this way- you’ve come face to face with this truth more times than you’d like to count.

It’s the fact that for the first time, you’ve come face to face with the truth, and there’s a part of you that can accept it.

You stand there for another moment at the edge of his bed, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to find the words you’re too scared to admit. Maybe your silence is a loud enough confession.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work, okay?” You lean down and kiss his head, giving your dad’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before you’re halfway out the door, car keys in hand.

“I thought your car wasn’t working?”

Your dad has never been one for “I told you so’s” . The stifled smile and playful glisten in his tired eyes will do just fine.

“Bye, Dad.”

Your dad’s words echo in your brain as you begin your journey down the driveway, terrified by the tiniest amount of weight it’s lifted off your shoulders.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.”

Maybe he’s got a point. But that’s easy to say when you’re only dealing with the idea of Frankie you’ve built up in your head, not when you’re about to come face to face with him in real time.

There’s a part of you that debates just walking to work. Hell, the hour walk it would take you to get to work would probably be easier than the thirty second walk you’re about to take four houses down.

You’ll be lucky if you don’t gnaw off your entire thumbnail by the time you make it to the Morales’s doorstep, trying to clench your fists as tight as possible with every step you take towards their house to attempt to keep your nerves (and nails) intact.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked this slow to his house. There was once a time that you couldn’t sprint there fast enough, legs leaping over cracks in the sidewalk to meet Frankie at his front door. Now, it feels like you might as well be crawling with the time you’re trying to waste before you ring his doorbell.

You practically tip toe up the steps to the porch, like it’s some sort of crime to be at his house and you’re terrified of being caught. Your finger hovers over the doorbell, outstretched and ready to press, too frozen in fear to move the extra inch it will take to press the rounded button.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse under your breath, furrowing your brow at your inability to face his front door. You ball your free hand up to a fist, slamming your knuckles against your forehead with a sigh so heavy, you’d probably give that wolf from The Three Little Pigs a run for his money, “‘C’mon, MacKenzie, just ring the damn doorbell.”

Your heart stops as the tip of your index finger finally pushes hard enough to force the high pitched chime, forcing yourself to keep your feet planted on the doormat below you instead of booking it half way across town.

“One sec!”

The bellow of his voice from behind the door is enough to jumpstart the stand still of your heartbeat, so much so that in an instant, it’s gone from flatlining to nearly beating out of your chest.

At this point, even if you wanted to run, you’re not sure your body would let you.

As the knob turns and draws back towards the house, Frankie’s broad body fills the doorframe. He looks almost as frozen as you, so stunned by your presence, his tongue darts between his lips as a placeholder for the words he lacks.

“H-hey?” He asks it so cautiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion while he looks you up and down, too scared to say anything else until he figures out why you’ve shown up at his front door.

“My um- My car won’t- I have to go to work and I can’t get my car to start.”

You don’t dare phrase it as anything other than a statement of fact. You’ll die before the words “Frankie, will you help me?” escape from your lips.

“O-oh. Shit.” He cocks his head, the pinch of his face immediately easing along with the rest of his body, standing up a little straighter as he leans against the doorframe.

“Sorry, i-if you’re busy or whatever, don’t feel like you-”

“No- No, I mean, yeah, no, I don’t- shit-” He stutters, pausing as he shakes his head with a little laugh at the ground, trying to compose himself before he trips over his words again, “Yes, I um- Yeah, I can help.”

“O-okay. Thank- Thanks.” You try to fight the tug you feel in your lips creeping towards the corner of your cheeks that mirrors the grin Frankie’s trying so desperately to hide on his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment, feet wriggling in the tips of your shoes and fingers twiddling in your pockets, using every ounce of strength you have to ignore the heat flushing through your cheeks that makes you want to hate him just a little bit less.

It’s hard to suppress when Frankie’s trying to keep up his facade with the world’s worst poker face as he’s beaming ear to ear.

“Let me just uh- Lemme grab some stuff and I’ll meet you over there?” He asks, tiptoeing around what seems too good to be true.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

You give each other a little nod before he disappears behind his door. You tilt your head to the sky, eyes closed as the deepest sigh of relief you can take escapes your body. It feels like the first gasp you take when you peak above the surface after holding your breath underwater, remembering what it feels like to finally breathe again.

It takes everything in you to pretend you don’t feel the strange pang in your chest as you watch Frankie walk to your house after you’ve made it back to your driveway, his gray shirt clinging to his biceps as he carries over his bucket of tools and brown curls spilling out from under the worn, Standard Oil hat he’s obviously still refused to throw away.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed over your chest, trying your best to seem ambivalent about the whole ordeal.

If you were nominated for an Oscar in the “Pretending to be aloof in front of Frankie Morales while he fixes your car” category, you most surely wouldn’t be winning.

“Hey, again.” He grins as he sets his tools down, mirroring your stance to cross his arms over his chest.

“Hey, again.” You parrot.

“So, uh… Your car?” Frankie asks, nodding over to the vehicle you’re leaning on.

“Yeah, uh- yeah, I don’t know what’s going on. I tried starting it like, five different times and it doesn’t do anything. I’ve never had this happen to me before and of course it’s when I’m trying to leave for work.” You shrug, trying to play into the fact you at least tried to do something before coming to find him.

“Huh. Alright, well, lemme see what I can do, okay?” He nods again, leaving your fingers to play with your sleeves to keep yourself occupied, instead of staring at him, mesmerized by the way you can still hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes. “Can I uh- is it okay if I have the keys?”

You fumble through your pockets, digging out your keys to place them in the palm of Frankie’s outstretched hand, the linger of your touch on his skin just long enough to make you subtly jerk your arm back in embarrassment.

You step back to let Frankie slide past you, watching him try to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat to start your car, half his body still hanging out the open door.

“Are you- are you not teaching anymore?”

“Wh- huh?” His question catches you off guard, the scowl of confusion painted across your face making him quickly elaborate before drawing his attention back to your car.

“You just uh- sorry, you said you were going to work. It’s 5 P.M. on a Thursday in June, so, ya know, figured you probably weren’t going to school.”

He gives the key one more turn before sliding out of the car, carefully passing your keys back off to you before making his way to open the hood. You cautiously follow behind him, arms still crossed against your chest as he props the front of the car up to reveal the engine.

“Oh. Uh- no, yeah. No, I’m uh- I’m still teaching. Normally I do summer school to make some extra money, but because of my dad and everything and not being home, it just, ya know, I just couldn’t. I still wanted something to do to make money and keep me busy, so um, Katie’s Dad still owns The Parrot’s Nest on 14th, so I asked him if I could just do some part time waitressing and bartending and stuff. It’s nice ‘cause he’s been really flexible with everything going on.”

Your eyes dart to the ground as Frankie shifts his view from the inside of the car back to you. The air fills with a heavy pause, like neither of you are really sure how to react to the fact you’re managing a semi-civil conversation that’s more than just one word responses.

Frankie lets out a quiet huff, trying to hide the soft smile curling in the corner of his scruff covered cheeks before turning back to the car, silently tinkering for a few moments before mustering up the courage to speak again.

“That’s nice of him. Didn’t even know that place was still around.” There’s a little grunt as he leans deeper into the car, reaching around to search for some sort of part he wants to check, “I’m uh- I’m glad you’re still teaching, though. That’s um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Your hands have shifted from folded across your chest to in your pockets, a subconscious move you’ve made as a brick from the wall you’ve built between yourself and Frankie Morales seems to crumble without you realizing.

You let him work for a few more moments before he’s diagnosed your issue, carefully closing the hood and wiping the engine grime on the towel from the tool bucket he’s brought with him.

“So uh- good news is, you just need a new battery. Easy fix. Bad news is, your battery’s dead, and your car’s not gonna start without a new one.” Frankie shrugs, hoping he’s not pushing his luck with the little laugh he gives himself at his joke.

“Fuck. Okay, uh- shit, okay.” You mutter, not necessarily upset with Frankie for delivering the news of his discovery, but angry at the fact you need to buy a new car battery and have no way to get to work. “Um, sorry, give me a second, I’m gonna call Jim and let him know that I can’t make it in today.”

“I- I can drive you.”

You’re sure Frankie’s just as surprised as you when the offer comes out of his mouth, freezing your thumb over your boss’s contact you’re about to dial. Frankie clearly interprets the look on your face as one of skepticism about his idea, quickly trying to backpedal before he preemptively digs his own grave.

“No, I mean, um- if you want. I can- I can drop you off. So you, uh- that way you don’t have to miss work.”

“No, Frankie, it’s fine, you- you already helped figure out what’s wrong with my car, it’s not a big deal, don’t wo-”

“I want to.”

You don’t mean for your sigh to be as audible as it is. It only seems fair, considering there was no world in which you ever considered having to contemplate not only asking Frankie for help, but also spending a fifteen minute car ride together so he can drop you off at work. You chew at your bottom lip as you contemplate the lesser of two evils- be stuck in Frankie’s metal death trap of a car, forced within a 3 foot proximity of him for the entire ride, or miss out on the most hours you’ve been scheduled in the past two weeks for money you really do need.

Swallowing your pride is the toughest pill you’ve had to swallow in quite a long time.

“Fine.”

It’s not even your answer you think shocks him the most. It’s how little he had to argue with you to agree.

You want to roll your eyes at the little smirk of satisfaction he gives himself, knowing you’ve gone 0-2 on your hardened stance of despising Frankie’s guts since talking with your dad. It only stings more that you’re sure Frankie is getting endless amounts of satisfaction that you’ve given into him so quickly.

But fuck, if you didn’t miss that stupid, goofy grin of his when he knows he’s beaten you at your own game.

“Only if your car isn’t gonna kill us first before we get there.” You groan, eyeing down Frankie’s beater truck he’s been driving since he got his license. It was in questionable shape over a decade ago, you’re not sure what kind of deal Frankie made with the devil to keep the hunk of junk up and running.

“She’s fine. Haven’t managed to kill you in her yet, have I?” Frankie rebuttals, grabbing his tools as you follow behind him towards his car.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You sigh, shaking your head in annoyance that Frankie’s still driving this damn thing on principle alone, “How the fuck is this thing even still running?”

“‘Cause you don’t give her enough credit. Got me here from North Carolina just fine.” Frankie scoffs, the two of you settling into your perspective seats inside his truck.

His comment makes you frown at your lap as you buckle your seatbelt, not because of the sass he’s inflicted, but because it reminds you that he’s moved himself states away just to further the distance between you two.

“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” Frankie mutters, looking over at you as he drives and noticing the way you’ve gone quiet, eyes peeled to the ground.

“No, I know.” You reply back, anxiously digging under your nails with your stare still locked on your feet. “How’s um- how’s North Carolina?”

“Oh. Um, It’s uh- It’s fine, I guess.”

It’s then you notice Frankie’s realized the reason for your silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat and grip tightening around the steering wheel as he processes your disappointment.

It’s hard to decipher what he means by “fine.” Fine, like he’s more than fine and doesn't want to rub it in your face how well he’s doing? Fine, like actually a normal amount of fine and he just has nothing of interest to report? Fine, like he’s not fine at all, but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to you?

With the way he can’t bring himself to look at you, it has to be the first or third option. You’re not sure which one is worse.

You’re also not sure why you feel so compelled to find out.

“You still uh- doing um, mechanic stuff for the Army?” You ask, glancing over just enough to watch Frankie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. Helicopter maintenance, mostly.”

It’s still not enough to give you the definitive answer you’re looking for. You’re too stubborn for your own good to just quit while you’re ahead. Because of all the questions you could have asked him, the one you ask him next is like voluntarily putting a gun to your head and asking him to shoot.

“Are you, uh- you um, seeing anyone? Samantha, or whatever her name was?”

It’s the first time he locks eyes with you since you’ve gotten in the car. Frankie looks you up and down, tongue running across the top of his teeth under his lips and raising his brows just enough to let you know you’ve got his attention.

Every second of silence that lingers before his answer only leads you to believe he’s trying to let you down slowly before he has to pull the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet.

“No. I uh, shit- I- Sarah and I broke up a while ago. After um, after Santi’s wedding, actually. No, I um, I’m not seeing anyone. Haven’t really been since then, I guess.”

Your body stays tense, still bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, but it never comes. Not only has Frankie taken his finger off the trigger, he’s put away the gun all together. You’re so stunned you’ve made it out of the question alive, you aren’t quite sure how to react.

“O-oh. I uh- I didn’t know.”

“Are- are you? S-seeing anyone?” He stutters, the words heavy in his throat as he gulps.

“No. After how things ended with Liam, I just- I haven’t either.”

It’s uncomfortable, the silence that fills the car and seeps between you. Not quite awkward, not quite upset, not quite relieved, either. It’s heavy, like a backpack full of bricks you’ve had strapped to your shoulders that you refuse to put down- you’d rather keep burdening yourself with the weight than just take it off, too used to the ache it spreads to every inch of your body.

Maybe, the silence is so uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize how stupid it is to let these types of things keep weighing you down.

Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.

You’ve been so lost in your own head, you’d barely even realized the car had come to a stop, the soft orange and pink glow of The Parrot’s Nest sign illuminating the inside of Frankie’s truck with muted neon snapping you back to reality.

Your hand wraps around the door handle, ready to break free into the parking lot before Frankie’s voice stops you.

“What time are you done?”

You look back over your shoulder, taken aback.

“Why?”

“So I can pick you up.”

It’s so matter of fact, like he had never contemplated any other option from the moment he’d offer to drive you, his soft, brown eyes sinking as you shake your head at him.

“Frankie, it’s fine. I can have someone else drive me ho-”

“Please?”

Your head wants to say no. It wants to push open the door with a half hearted “thanks for the ride” and pretend like the past 15 minutes had simply never existed, wiping the strange pang in your chest and swirling in your stomach from its memory.

Apparently, your heart’s decided it has other plans.

“I’m done at ten.”

“Then I promise to be back here at ten.”

Frankie Morales is a man who’s broken many things.

Your heart, your trust, your friendship.

But out of all the things Frankie has broken, he’s never broken a promise.

And that’s how you know at ten o’clock sharp, you’ll find his beat up Chevy in the parking lot of The Parrot’s Nest, waiting for you.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[angelsknifeprty]

streamer!ellie hcs ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: this is more focused on ellie and less on ellie x reader but i am for sure gonna follow this up with something else more focused on the both of you >:3

warnings | mentions of weed, the smallest hint towards struggling with eating if you squint

word count: 698

do not buy tlou | ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ started off posting unlisted videos of her playing games with the stupidest, shittiest editing ever for you and her friends to watch and later decided to give streaming a try

‎ ‧₊˚౨ৎ starts off her twitch channel as a faceless streamer but does a face reveal when she hits a big milestone

‧₊˚౨ৎ has the creeper mini fridge for sure!!

‧₊˚౨ৎ has a ginger cat named garfield that she exclusively calls garfunkel on stream because her viewers made fun of her for garfield being too unoriginal

“guys, what do you mean it’s unoriginal, look at him. that’s literally garfield, the real deal. you’re all haters.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ plays a bunch of different games: minecraft obviously, fortnite, roblox (and argues with kids on there, you can’t tell me any different). also loves fnaf, elder scrolls and resident evil

‧₊˚౨ৎ more on her liking resident evil, i think she’s not super wimpy when it comes to games like that but she HATES the regenerators from the re4 remake (i’m totally not projecting…)

“i am NOT a wimp, but look at their freaky fucking arms!! and they have gross little butts too, that was not a necessary choice for the character design.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does find it funny when she kills them and they jiggle as they fall on the ground though

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ i’m throwing it in here that she smokes weed because i simply cannot help myself teehee :P

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she does more chill streams of her eating n stuff as a way of comforting her viewers so they can eat along with her )):

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ and in turn chat always spams her with comments to drink water because that girl survives purely on energy drinks to combat her sleepy girl syndrome

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ abuses the soundboard so heavily, loves using a sound effect of an audience clapping and cheering when she tells the most painfully unfunny joke

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she is ABSOLUTELY a jerma985 fan

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves putting her fans on blast and reacting to edits of her on stream and finds it so funny (especially the ones that have the reverb fart noise just randomly slapped in there, she thinks it’s peak humour)

“you guys think i don’t see this stuff? i have eyes everywhere. y’know what though, you guys are actually really talented.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ wears stupid t-shirts that say stuff like “i paused my game to be here” (omg i just found one that says “gamers make better lovers, they know all the right buttons” she would absolutely wear that)

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she wears her silly t-shirts with pride and has the audacity to ask chat to rate how hard her fit goes

therealher0brine: BOOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅 0/10

elliebellie69: i beg that you don’t leave the house in that /lh  (╥﹏╥)

gnarpgnarp500: never beating the loser lesbian allegations i fear…

“guys you’re just not seeing the vision, sorry that you’re not this cool.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ oh my gosh she is OBSESSED with the little ikea alien, she has multiple of them in her room. she keeps one on her desk and when she sometimes doesn’t know what to say she’ll just hold it up super close to the camera and make incoherent high pitched babbling sounds

smelliams420: omg cancelled you can’t say that dude…

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ gets her viewers to send in clips and she’ll do high try not to laugh streams and fails miserably because she has the dumbest sense of humour ever. she’ll blame it entirely on the herb though as if her reaction wouldn’t be near enough the same when she’s sober

‧₊˚౨ৎ will occasionally play guitar on stream and she’ll sing too if you catch her in the right mood. she’s a bit awkward about it so it doesn’t happen often cuz she hates messing up and always makes a way bigger deal about it than necessary

“fuck- no wait, i was just messing with you. that fuck up was on purpose, shut up,” and her cheeks are flushed bright red as she tries to brush it off and compose herself before trying again

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves to get sidetracked and info dumps about stuff she is far too knowledgeable on

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ in conclusion, loser ellie supremacy

a/n: raghhh i love streamer els with my whole heart !!! i’m gonna eat her (˶˃⤙˂˶) anyways i hope you enjoyed, k bye mwah! >3< ♡

[lavandulawrites]

Autonomy Of a Free Soul ch: 1

Chapter 1: Wonderland

Repost

Chapter 2

This is an yandere genshin men x reader that will have multiple chapters. This will be cross posted on ao3. It will partially follow the plot of genshin impact.

Synopsis: You find yourself in the meadow by the giant oak tree at Windrise. You have faint memories of falling into a well which is deeply hidden inside a cave by your home. You get captivated by the tune of the green clad man as he strung lyre high up in the tree.

Alone in a foreign world with hazy memorises, you are sure to encounter various obstacles you would never dreamt of facing. With some admirers with emotions and devotion deeper than what would seem possible, can your journey turn out peaceful?

Masterlist

Warnings: female reader

Word count: 4227

Light peered through your eyelashes as your eyelids fluttered. A pleasant warmth enveloped you. The fresh breeze caressed your cheeks. The surface underneath you was soft and you would have thought that it was a bed had you not smelled the fresh air of the outdoors.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked at the sun. You slowly sat up and let your eyes roam your surroundings. You were laying on a green meadow filled with various delicate wild flowers. A few birds flew across the clear sky. A few dandelion seeds blowed with the wind towards you. To your right were a huge tree, who’s branches reached for the blue endless sky.

After a while you rose to your feet and began following the little stream up to the tree. A couple of fishes swam happily along the stream and a few frogs hopped in front of your path.

Despite your confused state, you were filled with tranquility. Had you not known better, you would have thought you had reached heaven.

As you stopped by the large tree you heard the soft melody of a lyre. You walked around the thick trunk in search of its source.

On one of its thick branches sat a light green clad man. His long and slender fingers gently strummed the strings of his lyre, creating a beautiful melody. Though the melody had no words, you could feel the heavy emotion it carried.

You had no idea how long you stood underneath the tree listening to his song. The man opened his eyes and revealed his stunning cyan irises. He was around your age, early twenties, but his big eyes revealed wisdom beyond your imagination.

His gaze met yours and you were stunned by his beauty. He hopped down from the branch with playful elegance.

He bowed before you, his lyre behind his back. “Hello my beautiful maiden. What an honour it is to have such a stunning lady to be my audience. I am truly a lucky bard” he smiled and winked at you playfully.

You were taken aback by his flirtatious words. “Hello” you smiled back. “Your music is really beautiful. Does the song you just played have a name?”

“Not yet” he shook his head. He tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner before he lit up “What if I name it after you? What’s your name sweetheart?” his tone gleeful.

“[Name]. What’s yours?”

“Oh my, what a lovely name! I am Venti the bard” he took of his hat and bowed deeply, with his feet crossed. He spun his hat in the air before he put it back on. “I haven’t seen you around before and believe me when I say that I know everyone in Mondstadt. So [Name], where exactly are you from?”

At his question your eyes widened. You had almost forgotten how you woke up suddenly in the flowerbed. Before you had woken up in this unfamiliar landscape, you had been on a walk in the woods by your home. You had explored a cave and had tripped on a root and fallen down into an ancient well. When you opened your eyes you found yourself here in the meadow.

“You are right I’m not from around here” you sighed. You hesitated. Was it wise to tell him about the well? You couldn’t be too sure if he was to be trusted or not. After a moment of thinking, you chose to tell him all the details. Maybe he could help you? “I fell into a well inside a cave back home, but strangely I can’t remember everything else. My memories from my home is there, but they’re glossy” you prayed that he wouldn’t think that you were crazy.

“I see…That’s really unfortunate. I don’t think I can help you with returning home” Venti smiled sadly.

“It’s okay. I guess there is no helping it…”

His hand slipped into his shorts and pulled out a cloth that was round in shape. He opened the flowery cloth and revealed the reddest apple you had ever seen. “Do you like apples? I myself absolutely love them. I can’t ever seem to get enough” he laughed.

“I love apples” you nodded and returned his smile.

Venti skilfully broke the apple in half with his fingers. He gave you one of the half’s. The aroma of the apple reached your nose and you hummed in delight.

“Smells good? It will taste even better” he took a bite himself and closed his eyes in delight.

You followed his example. The taste did not disappoint. The apple was juicy and sweet. It was perfect.

“Do you know where you’ll stay tonight?” he asked as he wiped his fingers in the cloth. His apple completely vanished.

“No…” you smiled sheepishly.

“I see… The city is quite far away. A couple of hours walk in fact.”

His eyes got a certain glint in them. “But I have another way of transportation” he winked.

You tilted your head at his implication. “Another way of transportation? What might that be?”

Venti turned his back slightly towards you and pointed at a round crystal decoration. “I’ll use this! The power of anemo sure is amazing!”

“Anemo?” you blinked at him.

Venti quickly spun around. His expression one of shock. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what visions and elemental powers are?”

“Umm… I don’t… Sorry” you winced in embarrassment. You really didn’t understand a thing.

“I guess you really aren’t from around here. Worry not! Visions are amulets that let people control the elements. Anemo is the wind element. Mondstadt, where we are now, is the nation of anemo”

“Ohh… I see” you nodded, but you found it difficult to believe in amulets and elemental powers. Was he playing tricks on you?

“I can sense your hesitation. Let me demonstrate”. The bard held his hand of for you to take. “May I?”

You nodded as you took his hand. His skin was soft and warm.

Wind engulfed you both as Venti wrapped his arms around you. “Hold on tight!”

The wind lifted you both up high in the air. You two soared fast in the air and you clutched your hands at tightly as you could onto his arms. “Don’t be scared! Trust me! We will not fall down!”

The landscape became almost blurry underneath your feet as you moved as fast as the wind. You had never felt as free as you did soaring high in the air with a man you just had met. It felt like a scene from one of the fairytales your mother used to read you.

A city could be seen in to horizon. When you two got closer, you could faintly make out three large windmills and a large cathedral.

“That’s Mondstadt city. The city of freedom. Home to many bards such as myself” Venti’s breath ghosted your air softly.

“It’s beautiful” you said in awe.

Venti laughed at your comment. “It really is isn’t it?” he sounded almost like a proud father.

The two of you landed in front of a big stone bridge which led up to the city.

The cobblestone clicked underneath your shoes as you made your way over. A small boy was standing by the edge of the bridge feeding a couple of pigeons. The birds fled at the sight of the two of you, earning you both an earful from the little boy.

When you reached the gates, you were greeted by two knights. Venti only smiled and greeted them, which they returned.

The city was lively and music filled the streets. Multiple street vendors were littered across the streets.

Venti led you up to a more quiet part of town. “This hotel is both cheap and nice” he told you as he opened the hotel door which was painted a lively red colour.

The walls were of dark brown panesl and the red rug with a forest motif that led to the staircase was well-loved. The lobby was decorated with different nicknacks. On the walls hung paintings of the city.

The owner of the hotel was an elderly man with blond hair with greying streaks. When he smiled his eyes crinkled with crows feet. He looked like someone’s grandfather. He smiled at Venti from behind the reception desk that was cluttered with various papers and an comical large flower vase filled with tulips in the colour of the rainbow. “Hello Venti. What can I do for you today?”

“Hello Meier. Do you have any rooms available for this young lady?” he smiled at the man. Venti had told you on the way to the hotel that Meier owed him a favour. “She doesn’t have anywhere to stay tonight and I thought since you owe me, that maybe you had a spare room for her?”

Meier’s smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry Venti, but I really don’t have any spare room. The whole hotel is booked. You see a couple of diplomats from the other nations have come here and they have taken all the rooms in the finer hotels”. He turned his eyes round you “I am really sorry miss. Perhaps you could try some of the ins close to the city?”

You bid your farewells to Meier before you exited the hotel.

You sighed as you sat down at a bench near a fountain. You were far from home, in a whole different world given the unfamiliar city and the weird creatures or rather monsters you had seen, and you had absolutely nowhere to stay the night. Money was also something you completely lacked.

Venti was staring of into the distance, deeply lost in thought. After a while he turned towards you. “As Meier said, the other hotels are absolutely packed so it’s not worth to even check. ” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Here I was trying to be a good Mondstadt guide too” he shook his head, causing his braids to gently flap against his cheeks in a rather cute manner.

“No, no. Don’t apologise. This isn’t your fault. Not in the slightest” you tried to reassure him. “But what about the ins? Maybe they have some rooms available?”

“They might have some rooms available, but the roads outside of the city is filled with monsters lately. It’s simply to dangerous for someone without a vision. And I take it that you don’t have any training in combat?” his voice was serious and his eyes intense.

“I see. I don’t have any combat skills” you sighed.

After a moment of silence Venti spoke up again. “What if you stay at my place? There’s space and I will sleep on the couch” he looked at you with something you recognised as hope. His large eyes glittered and the way the soft light from the sunset hit them made them absolutely breathtaking.

You were so in awe of his beauty that you almost forgot to answer him. “I would love to. Thank you very much Venti. I really hope it isn’t too much of a bother for you” you smiled at him with gratefulness.

“Not at all! Let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Venti’s home was in a apartment building in the livelier part of the city. His apartment was on the top floor (the fifth floor). The walls were covered in a pale green wallpaper with dandelion seeds motifs. It consisted of a bathroom, a bedroom with a queen bed, a open kitchen and living room, a closet and a balcony. The balcony overlooked a little stage with rows of chairs in front of it. Venti told you that it was a place where amateurs could preform, be it music or plays.

Venti led you to the kitchen which he began rummaging through the cabinets. “It’s late so I’ll cook us some dinner. It won’t take long.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked as your eyes trailed hai movements. Despite his human appearance, he moved like he belonged in the sky. His every movement was fluid and his movements looked like dancing steps.

“No. Sit back and relax. You’re my guest after all” he smirked.

You hummed at the delicious taste of the pasta bolognese. “Wow Venti! You’re a really great cook!”

“Thank you, though I’m only an amateur” he smiled as he took a bite himself.

The dining table was of light wood. It was cowered with a white table cloth with embroidered light blue flowers. A candlestick was lit in the middle of the table, creating a cozy feeling. At the end of the table were various note sheets which Venti had tried to hastily clean up when you first entered the apartment.

“How does one obtain a vision?” you asked as you took a sip of the dandelion wine he had poured in your glass.

“It’s a favour from the gods. Those that reside in Celestia. It’s a sing of great ambition. The anemo vision is given to those who value freedom in a great deal” he nodded towards his vision that were laying on top of the countertop.

“Ahhh I see. How many types of visions are there?”

“Seven. All the seven nations are the homes of different elements. Mondstadt as you know is the nation of anemo, Liyue is the nation of geo, Inazuma is electro, Sumeru is dendro, Natlan is pyro and Snezhnaya is cryo” he spinners his fork in some spaghetti before he lifted the fork to his mouth. “Each nation have their own archon, god if you will. The one in Mondstadt is called Barbatos.”

“I see” you nodded. “Quite fascinating.”

“Yeah, I guess you can indeed say that”. He noticed your empty plate. “I’ll go and clean the dishes, then I will make your bed” he rose form his seat and collect the empty dishes.

“I should help you” you stood up and carried the empty wine glasses to the sink.

“No it’s okay. You’re my guest” he said reassuringly.

Venti’s bookshelf’s were filled with various works of poetry, fiction, song lyrics and historical books. You ran your fingertips over their backs. Your fingers were coated in a light veil of dust. You took out a book on Mondstadt’s history out of the shelf. You sat down in the light teal sofa. A few strands of treads were sticking out of the seems, making it clear as day that this sofa was well loved.

Your eyes went to the kitchen were Venti was humming on a tune while he scrubbed a pot clean. His voice was angelic and you hoped you would be so lucky that you would be able to hear him sing sometime. Venti was so kind and welcoming. He had told you the history of Mondstadt as you had walked among the streets of the city. He had told you so much that you felt like you knew Mondstadt like one would with a childhood friend. Yet, you knew absolutely nothing about Venti. You knew of his profession and his love for dandelions and wine, but that was it.

Venti’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m finished” he stood in front of you on the soft rug. “It’s getting late, so maybe we should get some sleep. I have made your bed. Don’t worry, I changed the sheets too” he smiled. The sun from the sunset casted a warm light on Venti’s features. His eyes glittered more than ever before and he looked like someone straight out from a fairytale. He didn’t look human.

“Yes we should. Thank you Venti. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m extremely grateful” you smiled sweetly up at him.

He chuckled. You swore that you could see a faint blush lightly dusting his cheeks.

Venti’s bed was comfortable and the duvet soft. You quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.

Your dreams were of wells and deep caves. You tried to wake up, but to no avail.

After a long night filled with night terrors, you finally woke up to bird chirping. Sunlight were shining through the white curtains, warming your skin.

You lazily sat up and stretched your limbs. You still felt helpless regarding your situation, but it was little you could do. At least at the moment.

You turned on the shower and let the warm water hit your skin. Venti’s soap had a slight smell of apples and you welcomed the faint fragrance.

After your shower you got dressed and went to the kitchen.

Venti was sitting by the kitchen table while reading a newspaper. His black brows furrowed in concentration. On the table were a basket of bread and strawberry jam and apple jam. He had poured two glasses of apple juice which looked refreshing. His eyes flickered up to meet yours. He smiled gently. “Good morning sleepyhead. Slept well?”

You took the seat opposite of him. “Good morning. Not really. I had a nightmare” you sighed. “But thanks again for staying here. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t” you laughed slightly.

“Nightmares are an awful thing. Unfortunately I can’t seem to get rid of them myself” he smiled sadly before his expression changed into a jovial one. “You’re very much welcome.”

You two talked about everything and nothing while you ate. Venti was easy to talk to and you felt you could tell him everything. It was almost like you were compelled. It was a peculiar feeling.

“We need to get you some new clothes.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any money…” you sighed. Your situation really was unfortunate.

“I will pay. Consider it a gift from me” he smiled.

“But you have already done so much for me. I feel guilty.”

“Please don’t. Believe me when I say that it’s my pleasure.”

“Okay. Thank you” you smiled at the bard.

He returned you smile. “I know of another outlander that is here in Mondstadt. I can introduce you to her. Maybe she will be able to help you with your predicament? And if not, you will have made a new friend. Friends is something you never can get too many off.”

Angle’s Share was rather empty given how early it was. Some patrons were playing a game of cards as they sipped on their beer steins.

The bartender by the counter greeted you as you entered. His hair was red as fresh blood, giving a stark contrast to his pale skin. He was handsome and you could easily understand why he was the bachelor of Mondstadt (that was Venti had told you on your way there).

He grunted at the sight of Venti. “Here to pay your tab?” his voice deep and velvety.

Venti laughed awkwardly. “No, I’m actually showing my friend here, around Mondstadt. Diluc this is [Name], [Name] this is Diluc” he gestured to each of you.

“Nice to meet you [Name]” the red head smiled.

“Nice to meet you as well Diluc” you smiled back.

“Oh by the way. Have you seen Lumine today?” the bard asked Diluc who was polishing a wineglass.

“She’s upstairs” his answer curt as he continued to work.

Venti nodded before he led you upstairs.

The second floor was empty save from a blond girl and a fairy-like creature that was floating beside her. The girl turned around and smiled when she saw Venti. The fairy followed her example. “Tone deaf bard!” she said she waved her little hand. Her voice was high pitched and nearly gave you a headache.

“Hello ladies” Venti playfully greeted. “This is [Name]. [Name] this is Lumine and Paimon. Lumine was the one who saved Mondstadt from the incident I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you. Though I couldn’t have done it on my own. I got help from my friends” Lumine smiled. Her topaz coloured eyes shone in the sunlight that peered through the open window. “Why don’t you two take a seat?”

“Nice to meet you Lumine. I must say your strength, from what I have heard, is truly admirable” you smiled as you took a seat on the wooden bench. Venting followed suit and took a swipe at besides you. His knee brushed against yours as he made himself comfortable. You could smell his scent which smelled of fresh apples and wildflowers. It was a pleasant scent that suited him perfectly.

“You flatter me” Lumine smiled. “Should I order anything for you? Some dandelion wine? Or maybe some freshly pressed juice?”

“Dandelion for me if you would be so kind” Venti said. You could see his excitement from the mere mentioning of dandelion wine. His love for the wine was kinda cute.

“I would love some orange juice” you said.

Lumine nodded before she rose and ventured downstairs. The stairs creaked under her steps.

Paimon turned her gaze to you. “So, how did the two do you meet?” she tilted her head in a a childlike manner. Sparkles sparkled around her.

“We met at Windrise” Venti answered.

Paimon nodded. Her brows were furrowed in thought. She was about to say something more when Lumine came back with two glasses. One with orange juice and the other with dandelion wine.

You and Venti thanked her before you both took a sip. The orange juice was fresh and a little sweet, but not too sweet. You hummed in delight.

“So where did you two meet?” she asked as she took a sip of her half full glass of grape juice.

“Windrise” Paimon answered. Lumine shot her a look. “They told Paimon while you were ordering. Don’t give Paimon that look!” the little fairy stumped her feet in the air.

“Windrise… that’s quite far from the city. What were you doing out there?” the blond woman asked you.

At her question you froze. Venti noticed your hesitation. “She’s an outlander just like you Lumine.”

Lumine’s eyes widened. “Oh really? I have never met another outlander. How did you end up here in Teyvat?” her eyes curious.

“I am not too sure actually… I just woke up in a field of flowers by the oak tree” you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Ah… I see. I myself lost my brother. We were travelling from world to world before we ended up here. I am on a mission to find him again” her voice filled with determination. Lumine was a truly remarkable woman and you found yourself in awe at her. You wished you had her bravery. “Paimon here is my companion and guide” Paimon smiled wide at her words.

“Maybe you want to join our journey?” Paimon asked.

“Maybe… I am not too sure yet. I’m still trying to process everything” you smiled sheepishly.

Lumine nodded. “Understandable. We are gonna stay here in Mondstadt for a while before we go to Liyue.”

Your conversation with Lumine and Paimon was pleasant. Paimon had a lot to say and her eagerness was quite adorable. After a while you and Venti bid them goodbye as you headed two a boutique in search of some new clothes for you.

The boutique’s interior was pink and rather feminine. The walls were cowered in murals of pink flowerbeds. The owner was a sweet young woman who was quick to help you find something that suited you.

You ended up with a couple of different outfits and some underwear. You thanked Venti for his generosity. The bard only smiled gently. His eyes brimming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

As the blue sky turned a pinkish colour you ventured up to the cathedral. The building was massive and you felt at its mercy as it towered over the city. In front of the cathedral stood a statue of Barbatos. The statue was tall and made of marble. It was clad in robes and it had large wings on its back. His hands stretched out in a form of prayer. He had two twin braided on the said of his head. You admired the statue for a while. It looked familiar. There was no doubt about it. It looked an awfully a lot like Venti. You turned to look at the bard which was staring out at the city. He was lost in thought and did not notice your staring.

“This statue is really beautiful” you said as you gazed up at its face.

Venti turned to face you. “Yeah… The sculptures did an excellent job.”

“The same goes for the cathedral. Its architecture is absolutely breathtaking. Do you often attended services in the cathedral?” you ask the dark haired man.

“I agree. The craftsman is extremely impressive”. He shook his head “I usually don’t, but I sometimes swing by. The organists are really talented.”

“I want to attend a service some time. Just to see how it is” you gazed up at the looming building.

“We can go together sometime” he looked at you softly.

The soft bed was welcoming after all you walking. You pulled the duvet over your shoulder as you burrowed your face into the pillow. Venti had insisted on you staying as long as you needed. He would take you to the Adventures Guild tomorrow in search of some jobs you could do in order to earn some Mora.

Sleep wrapped you in its warm embrace and you feel into a deep slumber. This time your dream was filled with cyan coloured eyes and white feathers.

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[writingfics-passingtime]

Bucky and queen song

Waving Your Banner

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: We Will Rock You - Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (flirtatious, no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~1300

CW: swearing, some flirting, suggestive jokes, a bit of tickling

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a flirtatious/suggestive interaction between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

Note: Thanks, anon! My initial note-to-self from when you first sent this was, verbatim, "okay but dodgeball would be fucken hilarious with we will rock you" - so we've gone with an Avengers training game vibe with this one

The woods hummed with tension, broken by the occasional crack of a branch or the muffled thud of boots. The Avengers had turned what should’ve been a simple training game into an all-out war, and your team was desperate to gain the upper hand. Somewhere ahead, in the shadow of the tree-line, stood the final obstacle: Bucky Barnes, silent, brooding, and lethal, guarding his team’s flag, the White Wolf circling his den.

You crouched beside Sam behind a cluster of bushes, your pulse steady but sharp as you surveyed the terrain. Bucky was right where you expected him, leaning casually against a tree just outside the flag's perimeter. He looked calm, detached even, but you knew better. The slightest flicker of movement would set him in motion, and if he was after you, there’d be no escaping. Flag perimeters were a no-fly-zone, so you and Sam would have to take it on foot.

“Alright,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “We need a plan. And by we, I mean you, because I’m not getting anywhere near the Winter Soldier.”

You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re faster than me.”

“He’s a wall. A brick wall with trust issues and superhuman reflexes.”

You sighed, pressing your back against the thick trunk of a tree. “Then we need a distraction. Something that’ll actually make him move.”

Sam raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? What’s your genius plan?”

“You,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “You could bait him. Taunt him. Goad him into leaving his post.”

“And get steamrolled by the murder machine? Hard pass.” He scoffed. "Besides, you’re obviously better bait.”

The heat rushed to your face immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” Sam teased, his grin widening. “You’ve got that whole… thing going on.”

“What thing?”

He waved a hand vaguely at you. “You know. The whole ‘badass with a secret soft side’ thing. He’ll eat it up. Hell, I think the whole team’s noticed the way he looks at you.”

You glared at him. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“He does,” Sam interrupted, revelling in your reaction. “Come on, you could probably get him to do whatever you wanted. Just say something like, ‘Oh, Bucky, is that a vibranium arm or are you just happy to see m-”

You shoved him into the bush.

Sam tried to silence his little grunts as he pulled himself out, yanking the twigs from his armour plates. “Fine. You wanna argue about this all day, or should we win?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Just send in Redwing.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The plan was simple enough: Redwing would create a distraction in a bush behind Bucky, luring him away from the flag, giving you and Sam time to move in and grab it. You moved carefully, keeping low as you crept through the underbrush. The tension in the air was electric, every rustle of leaves amplified by your own awareness of how close Bucky was.

But, true to form, Sam couldn’t resist screwing with you.

As you crept closer to the clearing, Redwing darted toward you and made a ruckus in the bush partially shielding you from view. It was more than enough to give you away, and before you could even curse Sam’s name, you heard it - the unmistakable sound of boots crunching leaves, closing in fast.

Your head whipped around just in time to see Bucky moving toward you with the kind of speed that made your heart stutter. His expression was sharp, predatory, and - gods help you - just a little amused.

“Shit,” you muttered, bolting from your hiding spot.

“Running won’t help you,” Bucky called after you, his voice dark and smooth, laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother responding, too focused on dodging tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But it didn’t matter how fast you ran; he was faster. In seconds, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you clean off your feet.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low in your ear.

“Not yet, you don’t,” you growled, twisting sharply in his grip.

You elbowed him in the side, breaking free for a split second, but he was faster. He blocked your next move, his vibranium hand catching your wrist and spinning you around. You didn’t go down without a fight, aiming a kick at his shin and struggling against his hold, refusing to make it easy for him.

“Feisty,” he muttered, almost admiringly, his grip tightening as you wrestled.

You managed to get one arm free, landing a half-decent shove against his chest. He staggered back slightly but recovered in less than an instant, his smirk returning, sharper than before.

“Alright,” he said, his voice edged with amusement, “you wanna play rough? Let’s play rough.”

Before you could react, he was on you, trapping you between his body and the wide trunk of a tree. His fingers darted to your ribs, pressing against your sides with infuriating precision.

You jolted, a startled laugh bursting out before you could stop it. “What the fu- hey! No, that’s cheating!”

“Cheating?” he echoed, his grin widening as he tickled you again, this time catching your waist. “You’re the one trying to fight dirty.”

You squirmed, trying to slap his hands away, but the tickling was relentless, and your traitorous laughter left you weak, your arms useless.

“No! I- dammit, Barnes!”

Seizing the moment, he stepped back, grabbed both your wrists and yanked you against him, hauling you effortlessly over his shoulder. You kicked your legs in protest, but his grip was unyielding, his hand steady against the backs of your thighs.

“Put me down!” you demanded, pounding your fists against his unfairly muscled back.

“Not until you’re in jail,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you grumbled, your cheeks burning as you felt his arm tighten around your thighs.

He chuckled, the sound warm and agonising. “Unusual, maybe. But I’d say you’re enjoying it.”

“Barnes!” you snapped, squirming harder.

His laughter deepened, and he carried you with an ease that was both infuriating and maddeningly attractive. When he finally stopped, he set you down just outside the jail, his hands lingering at your waist.

“Let me go,” you said, though the bite in your tone had softened.

He stepped closer, his body a looming presence as his eyes bore into yours. “Say please.”

You scowled, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Didn’t think so,” he said, his smirk widening as he stepped forward, forcing you to step back - straight into the jail’s boundary.

You glared at him, your chest heaving as he stood just inches away, his gaze dark and intent. “Happy now?”

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, “but close.”

Before you could fire back, Sam’s triumphant whoop echoed through the trees. You turned just in time to see him flying above your team's base with Bucky's team's flag, waving it over his head like a trophy.

Bucky groaned, his head falling back briefly before he levelled a sharp glare at you. “Distraction,” he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, the word practically dripping with accusation.

Your lips curved into a coy smile despite yourself.

“You’re too damn good at it,” he said, his tone darker now, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned and stalked off.

Flushed, you called after him. "This isn't over, Barnes!"

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, turning to face you as he walked backwards towards his next mission. "Not by a long shot."