#don’t judge me it’s been a rough ass week

[judeable-brainrot]

doing retail therapy today🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the items:

(plus secret boyf christmas things🥰)

[poppy-in-the-woods]

My Ride or Die

Plot: Noah is your husband. Five years ago, he killed a man that was attacking you. The judge ruled that, since he shot him several times after he already had been stabbed by you, it was no longer self-defense. He got twenty years, and that was two and a half years ago. Today it’s his birthday, and you prepared something special for the conjugal visit.

Pairing: Noah x Female Reader

Word Count: 2904

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), rough sex, love bites, strong language, convict!Noah, mentions of violence.

Author's note: This is, as usual, unbeataed. I also wrote it directly in English to practice, and it has only been proofread by DeepL (I follow the rule that if the translation is grammatically correct, then everything is probably right). Let me know how I did, and hope you enjoy.

@artificialbreezy

It was Noah’s birthday, and, like the last two, he was locked away. He didn’t regret it one bit; what he did, he did it for you, the love of his life. It was odd that you didn’t visit him the previous week, since you’ve been pretty consistent with your weekly visits, but he knew you would never miss it if not for a good reason.

“Davis!” one of the prison guards called him.

Noah was watching TV with his friends, Nick, Folio and Jolly.

“What?” he asked, turning around to look at the man.

“Conjugal visit,” the guard said.

He got up, his friends wolf-whistling and patting his back.

“Lucky bastard!” said Jolly.

Noah followed the guard to the designated space, through several corridors and doors.

“Have fun with that pretty little thing of yours,” the guard said, with a gross tone.

Noah ignored him and entered the room. The door closed behind him with a loud clank, and the lock clicked in place. You got up the bed and ran to him, hugging him.

“Sorry I missed the last week, I got an unexpected change of schedule at work,” you said. He said nothing, but hold you in his arms, pushing you flush against his chest. “I should have called you, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and you know I can’t keep a secret from you.”

“You prepared a birthday surprise for me?” he asked, smiling, pulling away just enough to look at your face. You nodded, smiling back at him. “Let’s see it, then.”

“Sit down and close your eyes,” you instructed him. “And don’t open them until I say you can.”

“But I like to watch you undress!” he complained, pouting.

“You're gonna have to go without it this time,” you replied.

“Okay,” he sighed, defeated, and sat on the bed, closing his eyes.

You undressed, putting your clothes on the chair that was in a corner. The whole room was pretty austere, just the bed, one nightstand and the chair, no rugs and no decoration. A door led to a small bathroom. You stood before him, resisting the urge to hug yourself.

“You can look now,” you instructed him.

The lingerie set you were wearing, in fiery red, was the most lace-y and risqué you owned, with lots of pieces and transparent panels. It also showed you new tattoo, his name, right between your breasts.

“Baby,” he panted, almost drooling at the sight.

“Do you like it?” you asked, turning around slowly so he could appreciate all of it.

“I fucking love it!” he said. You straddled his thighs. “I can’t wait to take it off, though.”

You chuckled, kissing him, grinding your hips against his crotch while his hands roamed your body to finally settle on your hips. He squeezed your barely clothed ass, pushing you against him; his cock was fully hard now.

He began undressing with your help, and let you push him down on the mattress once he was fully naked; pushing the fabric of the panties aside, you rubbed your pussy against his erection, coating him in your juices. He bit his lip, suppressing a moan.

“You feel so good, baby” he said. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

 You kissed him, smiling, and got up to retrieve a condom from the nightstand. During your first conjugal visit, Noah had joked that you were fucking on tax-payer’s money, and you couldn’t help but remember every time.

He got up, resting on his elbows, to watch you roll the condom over his dick. Without wasting any time, you sat on his lap again, guiding him to your entrance, sinking slowly until he was fully inside. You both moaned at the same time.

“Have I told you this is the best pussy I’ve ever had?” he said.

“Just once or twice every time we fuck,” you laughed.

“Well, that way you won’t forget,” he said, gripping your hips with such force it might leave some bruises. You started moving, moaning into his ear. He kissed your neck. “I spend every day we’re apart daydreaming of us, fucking each other’s brains out.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Huh?”

“Where are we in those scenarios of yours?” you clarified.

“Oh. Well, it varies… our home, the woods, the beach… this prison,” he admitted. “I imagine it’s empty and we fuck in every room and office that there is.”

“You do?”

“I once almost got in trouble because of it,” he laughed.

“You gotta tell me that… after we’ve finished this round,” you said.

“Agreed,” he said.

You picked up your pace, riding him like he was a wild stallion you wanted to tame, and it was not an exaggeration, because while he let you be on top, he refused to be a passive part, and moved his hips in time with yours, all while praising you and exploring your body with his hands and mouth.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!” he said after more or less ten minutes, giving your butt another squeeze.

“Cum for me,” you encouraged him, gently tugging at the roots of his hair.

“But you haven’t…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted him. “It’s your birthday, you get to cum first, and I’m not gonna stop until your balls are empty. Be a good boy and give it to me!”

Noah came, loudly moaning your name. You kissed him, your hips stopping gradually. He laid back on the bed, breathing shallowly.

“Good God!” he exclaimed, pushing his hair out of his face. He turned his face to you. “How can you manage to fuck like that and still look so innocent right after?”

“It’s a gift,” you joked, lying beside him. “Tell me about that story you mentioned before, please.”

“Okay. So the other day, there was this guy, a newbie, that decided to pick on me at lunch. He kept trying to bust my balls (and not in a fun way), so I pushed him. He tried to punch me, but failed, and I punched him, you know, to show him who’s boss. That afternoon, the warden calls me into his office,” he began, resting on his side to look at you more comfortably. “He tells me ‘Davis, you gotta watch out that attitude or I will be obligated to put you in isolation, and you won’t be seeing your wife for a month.’”

“What a prick,” you commented.

“Right? The thing is, the moment he mentioned you, all I could think of was us, fucking on his desk,” Noah laughed. “I could picture you so vividly, butt-naked over his paperwork, legs curled around my hips, hands on my shoulders, head thrown back and mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure… I got a hard-on. Can you imagine?” he asked, you laughed. Yes, you could imagine it.

» I was so hard and he was still berating me, ‘Davis this’ and ‘Davis that’, and ‘watch out, lest some more years are added to your sentence!’. And then he realized I was not listening. He looked at me, really looked at me, you know? And I was totally spaced out, cock fully hard and gripping my own knees so hard my knuckles went white, trying to contain the urge to touch myself. Because in my mind, I had already made you come three times, and now you were riding me, just like you did now, your glorious tits bouncing on my face, and I swear I could have come with that thought alone. He had to ruin it, though, snapping me back to reality.

“What did he say?”

“He screamed my name, full volume. ‘Snap out of it, son, she’s not here and she won’t be for a long time if you don’t control yourself! I could send your sorry ass to isolation for this alone!’” Noah told you, doing his best impression of the warden. “So I apologized to him and he dismissed me. I went back to my cell, still half hard, and jerked off.”

“That’s kinda funny” you admitted.

“I missed you so much…!” he sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I miss you every day, the touch of your skin, the sound of your laugh, and your smell… wish I could bottle it so I could get drunk on it!”

“I miss you too, my love. I hate that you have to be here, but I’m grateful that I can still see you,” you said, kissing him briefly, “and that we can still have these moments.”

“I hate that I am in here too, but I would do it again if I had to. Killing for you is always worthy,” he said, resting on his back again.

You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him and putting a leg between his. He had saved you and ended up there for you, the least you could do was support him through his sentence.

“You’re the best husband I could wish for!” you said, caressing his tattooed chest. “Think you’re ready for round two?”

“Fuck yeah I am!”

“Help me take this off,” you asked, touching the lace.

“Sure, baby!” he said, his nimble fingers working the clasps.

After a minute, you were as naked as he was. Looking at him, you knelt on the floor. He looked back at you a bit confused.

“I made you a promise before: until your balls are empty, and I fully intend to keep that promise,” you reminded him.

“Okay, but you still haven’t come,” he pointed out.

“I can touch myself while sucking you, if you want,” you suggested.

“Or you can sit on my face and we give oral to each other at the same time,” he countered.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Damn sure! C’mon, baby, you have a seat waiting for you here,” he encouraged you, laying down again.

“Okay, as you wish, it’s your birthday.”

“You’re damn right it is!”

Noah always had a talented tongue and he loved eating you out. It was kind of hard to concentrate on sucking him off while he was working his magic with your pussy, though. Then he added two fingers to the mix, massaging your G-spot the way he knew you liked it, and it was impossible to concentrate.

“Noah, my love, I can’t think if you keep doing that,” you warned him.

“Don’t worry, just ride my face and then you can kneel on the floor and finish sucking me,” he said.

“O-okay,” you panted in response. “But let me turn around.”

You changed positions so you could make eye contact with him. His free hand flew to one of your boobs, massaging it. You put our hand over his and arched your back, moaning. You had toys back at home, and you always thought of him while you masturbated, but nothing compared to the real deal. The orgasm shook you with such force it made you see white and tears rolled down your cheeks. You collapsed on the bed beside him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked cupping your face with a worried expression, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“I don’t want to go home,” you said. “I want to stay with you, in here, forever.”

“I don’t want this to end either, but we’re having a good time, aren’t we?”

“The greatest time, that’s precisely why I don’t want it to end,” you said, pouting. “I’m gonna hug you so tight the guard will have to take me to the cell with you. I can sleep in your bed, I don’t mind,” you half-joked.

“I think Nick would mind if we don’t let him sleep,” he laughed. “And you know I can’t resist you when you’re so close.”

It was true. Luckily, you had a similar sex drive to him. You kissed him, desperately, blindly, and he kissed you back with equal fervor. For a couple of minutes, you lied there, closely embracing, trying to devour each other, all teeth and tongue and ragged breath, until you couldn’t take it. His lips moved to your neck while you took a gulp of air. His cock was still hard, heavy against your leg.

“How do you want me to take care of this?” you asked, caressing it.

“Let me fuck you hard,” he said.

For him, hard meant fast and rough, leaving bite marks all over your body, and it usually left you feeling a bit tender downstairs for a couple of days, the slight discomfort a sweet reminder of how much he loved you.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you agreed.

He began by marking your body, biting and sucking everywhere, claiming you as his.

“Fucking love this,” he said, pausing for a moment and gently brushing the tip of his nose to the black letters over your sternum.

“Glad you do,” you replied, fingers running through his hair.

“Pass me a condom, baby,” he asked.

You did, watching him fumble a bit with the foil package before he rolled it over his erection, mentally bracing for what was about to come. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it that way, but you still needed to prepare. He squirted one of the single-dose packages of lube over the rubber to make it easier on you.

Maybe your mother was right and you had a masochistic vein, you thought while he fucked you hard in several positions and you touched yourself.

“Harder!” you demanded.

“I don’t think you can take it harder, baby,” he said, panting.

“Please,” you begged.

“Okay, since you ask so nicely…” he said.

He pushed your face against the mattress, hand fisting the roots of your hair, your ass in the air, and he penetrated you again, making you whimper.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good. I love you, so, so much!” he exclaimed, pounding into you.

“I love you too!”

You were feeling the orgasm so close it was nearly within reach.

“Almost there, baby!” he warned you.

“Cum for me,” you commanded.

You reached your orgasm more or less at the same time as him, your walls contracting around him, and he screamed your name while he emptied his load in the condom. He collapsed on the bed beside you, panting. For a moment or two while you recovered, none of you moved or said anything. After that, you turned to look at him and hugged him.

“You almost rip my dick off,” he joked, smoothing your hair.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you milked me dry.”

“I told you, I made you a promise,” you smiled.

“My balls are empty,” he laughed.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to have sex for two weeks, and then my period is due,” you informed him.

“Normal visits, then,” he said. “Can you bring me a pastrami sandwich from the deli I like?” he requested.

“Sure!”

“You’re so good to me!” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re certainly lucky that my libido is as high as yours and I like the same sex stuff you do,” you laughed.

“Yeah, I am lucky. But next time we’ll focus on you, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, you still have one more birthday wish, if that’s how you want to spend it, fine by me,” you said, kissing his clavicle. “I love when you give me lots of orgasms until I can’t take it anymore.”

“I certainly love doing that,” he chuckled, “and you’ve been such a good girl you deserve it.”

Not long after, you had to go. After one last kiss, the guard took Noah deep inside the prison while you left. His friends were still hanging out in the tv room.

“How’s the missus?” asked Folio.

“She’s okay. Her boss is still an asshole, but it’s no big deal,” he said, sitting on the chair.

“Saw her crossing the street. She was almost limping,” Jolly commented.

“We had a heated birthday lovemaking session,” Noah explained, with a smug expression.

“I bet, I thought I could hear her screaming your name a couple of times,” Nick laughed.

“Last week she got my name tattooed between her tits,” he told them. “I can’t wait ‘til it’s healed so I can lick it while we fuck.”

“Damn, that’s hot!” Folio sighed. “Wish I had a missus like yours.”

“We all wish we had a wife like Noah’s,” Jolly laughed.

Later that night, when Noah and Nick were alone in the cell, Nick dared to bring out a subject they usually didn’t talk about. He was the only one who knew Noah and you from before the prison, and the three of you had gone on a bender quite some times.

“You think if we tell the warden about that one wild night in Miami, he’ll let me go in with you the next conjugal visit?” he half joked.

“No way. Besides, that was years ago and we were drunk.”

“I know. Still, it was the best head.”

“She does give pretty killer blowjobs,” Noah admitted, smiling. Maybe you could give him one next time before he dedicated himself to you.

“Take care of her, man, or some free guy will snatch her up!”

“That could never happen. She’s my ride or die and I’m hers.”

While they were talking, you were writing a letter.

Dear Noah,

It’s only been a few hours since we last saw each other, but I already miss you...

[lvnchh]

Burnt Edges

Ellie Williams x Fem reader (with PTSD)

I’m a minor and if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don’t interact. 🙏🏻 It’s my life, and I’m free to write whatever I want as long as I’m not bothering anyone. Also, please don’t judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I’m sorry if the whole story isn’t that good.

TW: I have PTSD (DIAGNOSED), and what you’re about to read is based on my personal experiences. Writing about it is a form of therapy for me. If you are sensitive to topics like violence and domestic violence, please do not continue reading. Thank you 🙏🏻

Btw I need more Ellie x PTSD reader stories because I want to feel less alone and represented

story below the cut

The roof was quiet, save for the soft hum of the wind and the occasional creak of the old building beneath you. You leaned back, one hand braced against the rough shingles, the other holding a cigarette lazily between your fingers. Beside you, Ellie sat with her legs dangling off the edge, her posture loose but her expression as tightly locked as ever.

She was like that—a fortress of dry wit and cold deflection. It had taken you weeks to even crack the surface, and even now, the glimpses of vulnerability she let slip were fleeting. Still, you stayed, drawn to her in a way that felt both dangerous and grounding. She didn’t make you feel fragile. She made you feel alive.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” Ellie muttered, breaking the silence. She blew out a stream of smoke, the ember of her cigarette glowing faintly in the dim moonlight. “Roof’s unstable.”

You glanced at her, arching a brow. “What, you care now?”

She shot you a side-eye, lips twitching in the faintest hint of amusement. “Not really. Just don’t wanna scrape your ass off the ground if it collapses.”

“Touching,” you deadpanned, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. The wind carried it away almost instantly, as if even it didn’t want to linger too long.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it never was. Ellie had a way of making silence feel purposeful, like it was meant to be filled with thought instead of noise. You liked that about her, even if she was the most guarded person you’d ever met.

She broke the quiet again, her tone sharper this time. “You’ve been jumpy all day.”

You stiffened, the cigarette burning low between your fingers. “What makes you think that?”

“You twitched every time the generator kicked on. Thought you were about to bolt when Jesse slammed that door.” Her voice was cold, almost clinical, but you caught the undercurrent of concern buried in it. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated, staring down at the glowing tip of your cigarette. The memories clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to drag you under. Your dad’s yelling, your mom’s pleading, the sharp crack of his fist against the wall—or worse, against her. It was all there, always there, no matter how far you ran or how many years passed.

Ellie didn’t press, but she didn’t look away, either. She had that kind of presence, the kind that made you feel seen even when you didn’t want to be.

“My dad,” you finally said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. “He was… violent. Toward my mom. Toward me, sometimes. I don’t know. Days like this, it just… sneaks up on me.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking toward the skyline. “Yeah. I get that.”

You glanced at her, surprised. She didn’t elaborate, but you could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. Whatever ghosts haunted her, they were just as heavy as yours. Maybe heavier.

She took a long drag of her cigarette, then said, “You ever wonder if this shit just… sticks to us? Like no matter how far we go, it’s always gonna be there. Screwing with us.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Every goddamn day.”

Ellie turned her head to look at you then, her green eyes catching the faint light of the moon. “You’re handling it better than most,” she said, her tone serious, almost begrudgingly respectful. “Better than me.”

You smirked, leaning back on your hands. “What can I say? My PTSD made me hotter.”

Ellie froze for a second, then snorted—actually snorted—before catching herself. She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite her best efforts to suppress it. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Maybe,” you said, shrugging. “But I made you laugh.”

“That wasn’t a laugh.” She exhaled sharply, flicking the ash off her cigarette. “It was a pity chuckle.”

“Sure,” you teased, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but the smile lingered, softening her edges just enough to make you feel like you’d won something. The two of you fell back into silence, the kind that felt warm despite the cool night air.

Maybe the scars would never go away. Maybe the memories would always be there, clawing at the edges of your mind. But sitting here, with Ellie by your side, the weight felt a little lighter. For now, that was enough.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

*image of Jensen Ackles is used with permission of the photographer Mandi Lea Photogtaphy.

Summary: After a significant career shift and subsequent break-up, Brandy Miller moves to Wayne County, Pennsylvania, to be closer to family. She invests in a small, sight-unseen condo in a “quiet, charming neighborhood with views of the Poconos and neighbors you can count on.” One particular neighbor seems to have a unique interpretation of what that means.

Characters: Brandy Miller x Soldier Boy, Serge Bernard, Kimiko Miyashiro (mentioned), Maggie Shaw, Annie January, Hughie Campbell, MM (mentioned), John James Davis (AKA Homelander but just as SB’s 21yo son), Butcher (mentioned)

Warnings/tags in this chapter: 18+ ONLY, sexual tension, sexual objectification, rough and degrading sex dream, alcohol, Soldier Boy is a terrible father, explicit sexual content

Words in this chapter: 3,500

Author’s notes: Soldier Boy will be referred to by many names in this fic. The full name I’ve given him is Benjamin James Davis III.

Thank you to @brrose-apothecary @stusbunker and @talltalesandbedtimestories for pre-reads and green lights!

This fills my #Inconsiderate Neighbor square for @jacklesversebingo

CHAPTER ONE

The last five years have been wild. A global pandemic impacted our life choices and decisions more than any other event in the previous 50 years. Career shifts, resettling in vastly different communities, honest declarations of who we are as people and who we love — these things I’ve witnessed first-hand.

I was an executive for a nationally renowned advertising agency. My partner of six years was a successful stock trader. About three weeks into our second lockdown, I realized I couldn’t stand the guy. I went through every reason why I’d have stayed for so long if he was so horrible. I wondered if he hated me too. Then one day, he told me.

“Brandy, I can’t do this anymore.”

He didn’t hate me; he just didn’t love me. He wasn’t horrible; he just wasn’t for me. 

Working remotely gave me a similarly renewed perspective on my career choice. I worked 12 hours a day from my home office overlooking Central Park, drank a bottle of wine to go to sleep, then got up the next morning to do it all over again. Meanwhile, everyone in America was tightening their purse strings on ad spend.

Now, I’m in the Honesdale borough of Wayne County, Pennsylvania, working as a freelance document review specialist. I’m single, own my two-bedroom condo outright, and spend Sundays with my sister Amber and her two teenagers over in Damascus. 

These changes introduced me to a set of concepts that I had previously denied. I thought I was happy, successful, content. 

But I’m told that a constant desire for more hinders contentment. Comparison is the thief of joy, as they say. A sense of entitlement will always bite you in the ass. A lack of gratitude prevents you from appreciating what you already have and fosters a need for something beyond.

As it happens, I have a prospective client meeting in Scranton this afternoon, and my brand-new Jeep won’t start. I guess they don’t make them like they used to. 

“Brandy, mon amie, where are you?” my friend Serge answers my call with worry in his voice.

“My truck won’t start,” I whine.

Last month, I complained to Serge and his partner-in-all-things Kimiko that government work was beginning to bore me. I like new things, which is a bummer, considering desire hinders contentment. Kimiko offered to introduce me to her brother, who works with one of the largest healthcare companies in the country. 

“Oh, cher...” Serge laments in sympathy.

“I know, I know. And this fucking podunk town’s got like two cabs and one Lyft serving the entire county.”

I roll my neck and eyes in frustration, and in my periphery, I glimpse a man inside a single garage stall working on a motorcycle. I’ve never seen him before, but judging by the military-themed tattoos, evident dexterity with the tools he’s wielding, and his proportions, he’s the ‘asshole military contractor’ my next-door neighbor, Maggie, told me about when I moved in. 

Serge frets in Frenglish on the other end of the line before returning to the point. “On se’n occupe. We will handle it.”

I watch my newly discovered neighbor deftly flex and twist and wonder if he’s as adept with other motor vehicles. “Please tell Kimiko I’m sorry and understand if this opportunity’s off the table now.”

My words are meant for Serge, but the man not 10 yards away sends me a subtle, knowing look. There’s an enduring facet of competence and perception in every flick of his eyes and wrist, every shrug of his thick, broad shoulders, and the taunting slant of his jaw. He knows I’m watching him and knows I’m in a bind. 

He pities me.

I tell Serge that I’ll let him know how things go with the car before ending the call then tentatively head toward my neighbor’s garage stall.

“Hey there, I’m Brandy.” I thumb over my shoulder, indicating the general area of my condo. “Are you BJ?”

He smirks at his greasy wrench before answering, “BJ, Soldier Boy, Captain,” then pauses as he drags his eyes from his task to pin me in place. “Take your pick, sweetheart.”

He looks me down and up, slow and heavy, licking his lips. His demeanor would be comical at best and frightening at worst if I weren’t so stunned by the sheer audacity. As he unfolds from a squat, his muscles shift and grind under his sweat-slicked skin. He wipes his filthy hands on a filthier rag and saunters toward me. I have never in my life been so blatantly objectified right to my face.

“Need a ride?” he asks, meeting my eyes again. The rounded toes of his grungy work boots tap the points of my Jimmy Choos.

“I-” I attempt to speak but don’t know what to say. I should be outraged. I should tell him he can’t just look at people like that. He can’t just invade my space.

He tilts his head, and his eyes drop to my chest. “You're all flushed, Brandy. Feeling okay?” He drops his rag to the concrete before ghosting a finger along my collarbone.

Air returns to my lungs and the flush in my chest rises up my throat to my face. I smack his hand away and take a step back. “What the fuck?! Do you always harass and assault women half your size, or is it just me?”

Centuries of gaslighting threaten to drown me from one single look. And then he speaks. “My bad. Didn’t know you were a prude.”

He raises his hands in feigned surrender before returning to his bike.

“I’m a prude because I don’t like being evaluated like a pig going to slaughter?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Listen—no harm, no foul, alright? I thought you were game; you’re not, no big deal.”

“Man, I came over here as a neighbor to introduce myself. You clearly heard part of my call and know my car isn’t starting. I thought, since you’re in here working on a motorcycle, you might also know something about cars.”

He nods. “Got it. Is that where we’re at right now? You want me to take a look at your car?”

“Jesus- what?! Are you for real?”

“No? Okay, then.” He turns his back, and I stare at him for a moment.

Thoughts swirl through my mind. Where is your spine, Brandy? Show him what you’re made of. This isn’t over until you say it is.

A slave to my guts and ego, I’m determined to re-engage. “Yes.” 

He slowly faces me again, eyebrows raised and head tilted in question. “Yes?”

“Yes. I’d appreciate it if you’d take a look at my Jeep.”

His expression shifts—softens, some might say, but his eyes remain hard and cold. “‘Course. What kinda neighbor would I be if I didn’t?”

He strides toward my two-car stall across from his, and I follow with no other excuse than my competitive spirit and morbid fascination with opposition. 

“You pay extra for two stalls?” he asks, glancing at the gym area I’ve set up beside my Jeep before rounding its hood.

From what I’ve gathered in this brief and bracing interaction, Captain BJ Benjamin Soldier Boy isn’t a small-talk kind of person, but I’m not sure yet why he’s asking a simple question like that. I decide to answer as simply.

“Yeah.”

He nods and gestures to the driver’s seat. “Pop the hood.”

I watch through my windshield and the slant of space between the hood and my dash as he quickly pokes and prods at things I know nothing about. Less than two minutes later, he drops the hood shut and walks around to the open driver’s side door.  

“Try it now.” He’s rubbing his hands together and his brow is slightly furrowed like he wishes he hadn’t tossed that rag aside in his garage.

I turn the key in the ignition, and it starts with no issue. 

My morning started with limited knowledge of this man and the inner workings of my Jeep. I had a single goal in mind to expand my client portfolio. I did not grow my business, I have not learned anything new about my vehicle, and my introduction to my neighbor has provided me with very little satisfaction. 

“Coupla loose terminals. It happens with new cars. Gotta break ‘em in.”

I flick my eyes to meet his. He holds my gaze, licks his bottom lip back between his teeth, then backs away before strolling away. 

+

“He’s the fucking poster boy for misogyny.”

Maggie nods as she tops off my glass of wine. “Yeah, calling him an asshole is an insult to assholes, honestly.”

“I felt like I was transported back to the 1950s or something. He’s a caricature of misogyny.”

“The embodiment,” Maggie replies, settling back into her sofa and sipping her wine.

“Does he think that works on women? Like, are there women in his sphere who respond favorably to his behavior? He can’t be rewarded by it. Maybe he’s conducting a social experiment.”

Maggie laughs. “You’re giving him way too much credit.”

“Then why?”

Maggie stares at me for a beat. “The question is, why do you care?”

I’ve thought of nothing else since he left me in my garage yesterday morning. I felt defeated by him. Used, somehow. Inconsequential in the end.

“I hate how he made me feel.”

Maggie remains silent and intent. She’s a great listener, and she never judges.

“I had a dream about him last night.”

She nods. “And how did that make you feel?”

I shake my head and draw a deep breath. It made me feel hot and wild. I was angry and hungry for him. Or for redemption, revenge, or victory. 

“It makes no sense. We interacted for like 10 minutes and I haven’t seen him since. That’s why I care. I can’t get him out of my head. I keep thinking of what I should’ve said or done instead of standing there like a deer in headlights.”

“Don’t let your pride rule you with him. He has no morals, no decency. You won’t win.” 

“You think I’m trying to win something.” 

She’s right. Maggie and I are a lot alike, but she’s smarter and more cautious than I am. Somewhere along the line, she learned a lesson I have yet to let sink in. She learned to resist a challenge and walk away. 

“Aren’t you?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Maggie suggests. “Did you get that meeting rescheduled, or is it dead?”

I fill her in on my chat with Kimiko. Kimiko’s brother Kenji was gracious enough to reschedule for next week, and I decided it best to go up the night before and spend the night with her and Serge in case I have any other car problems. 

Maggie opens a second bottle of wine and we proceed with our binge of Dead To Me on Netflix. 

+

I’m face down on my weight bench, straddling the padded seat with his fist in my hair and his cock hammering me from behind. He’s saying things to me, violent, hateful words, calling me names.

My wrists are bound, I’m blindfolded, and I am so wet. So wet from his rough hands, the way he slaps my ass and hips and pulls my hair. His voice is deep and rich, and it dominates the atmosphere and my mind. 

He’s had me so many times already, and he wants more. He wants to devour me. He can’t get enough of me.

And I never want him to stop. He treats me like a whore, tells me I’m his whore, and I can’t stop soaking his cock and slicking up the bench. 

“You fucking love my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck me.”

I wake up in a sweat after a third night dreaming of him. I feel fractured and unlike myself. I’ve never wanted the kinds of things I’m dreaming about him. I’ve never wanted a man to degrade me or tie me up. 

And this man is a pig of a man. 

But I can’t get him out of my head.

I’m aching and breathless. My sheets are soaked from sweat and my pussy. I reach into my nightstand for my vibrator to soothe the twitching between my legs and rid him from my mind. I think about all the things that usually get me off, but he just keeps coming back around with big, rough hands and dirty words, and teeth that score my tender flesh.

I come silently, arching into my mattress, imagining his hands around my wrists and his cock driving into me hard.

+

When I told the newlyweds who live across the hall from my nemesis that I’d never been to our neighborhood bar, they invited me to join them for burgers and beers. 

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but Butcher’s is an institution. I literally grew up in this bar,” Annie tells me as her husband Hughie distributes sticky menus and napkin roll-ups. 

“I’ll get a pitcher,” Hughie says and heads to the bar.

“I like it. Thanks for bringing me.”

I glance around the space, taking in old pictures and carved sentiments in the wooden beams. It still smells faintly of cigarette smoke after decades of No Smoking laws have been enforced. It reminds me of my favorite New York dive bar.

“Well, I’m glad. I’m sure it can’t be easy to transplant to a place like Honesdale where everybody knows everybody.”

“You know, it hasn’t been too bad. Between you two and Maggie, I’m meeting all the neighbors and learning the ropes like a real local.”

I don’t mention the man who’s rapidly infiltrated every dark corner of my brain since we’re having such a nice time. I don’t want to spoil it, but you don’t always get what you want.

“Ugh, BJ,” Annie gripes, reaching for a menu even though she surely has it memorized. “He is so gross.”

I hazard a glance in the direction of her glare to see the bane of my existence waltzing toward the bar. 

“He better not fuck with Hughie,” Annie says, narrowing her eyes as he brushes shoulders with her groom. 

Hughie gracefully ignores the man’s obvious intention to needle him, gathers three chilled pint glasses and our pitcher, and rounds the crowd away from Captain Creep to return to the table.

“Who’s the kid?” I ask, finally noticing a quiet young man with BJ at the bar.

“That’s his son John. That kid’s been through the wringer with BJ and his mom. I don’t know why he still comes around; he clearly cannot stand the man any more than us.”

John’s smaller than his dad. He’s almost delicate-looking with a thick swath of blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He doesn’t have the swagger of the man next to him, and he seems to wish he were anywhere but here.

“MM, my man, it’s my boy’s 21st birthday! Get him a whiskey and a round for the house on me.”

“Hey.” Hughie settles the pint glasses on the table before filling each one, serving Annie and me first, then sitting down to pour his own. “John’s 21st. This oughtta be an interesting night.”

Annie tells me stories about babysitting John when he was a kid. He was sweet and gentle, quiet but curious, and his dad taunted him for it.

“He called his 6-year-old son a pussy.” She shakes her head. “Who does that?”

John slides into a barstool and idly sips his whiskey. A few of the older patrons wish him Happy Birthday, and MM makes a point to keep his water glass and popcorn bowl full while John’s dad struts around, flirting with every woman and slapping the backs of every man. 

It’s odd to see people react to him positively. Men, no matter their age, appear to admire him, and every woman he smiles at blushes and giggles. 

“They don’t know him like we do,” Hughie says. “Should we order? Butcher’s in the back tonight.”

I decide on the ”Terror,” a half-pound beef burger with taleggio, prosciutto, and peperoncini, medium-well. Annie recommends the cheesy house fries with special sauce as a shared dish, and within 20 minutes, we have our food and a second pitcher.

A soft buzz from light American beer warms and loosens me up. In this state, I’m less critical of my thoughts about the man who’s starred in my most desperate and debased dreams this past week. 

He looks good. He’s agile and powerful, which is a spectacular combination. People laugh at his jokes. They gravitate toward him. They think he’s charming and handsome, and from the background of Annie’s stories, I learn that he’s a war hero. 

It’s nice to feel something other than the overwhelming angst and shame I’ve felt all week. He affects people; it’s okay. I’m not an outlier. I just have to ride this out.

We finish our food, and I excuse myself to the restroom. There’s a vanilla candle burning on a table beside a well-loved armchair, a basket with single-size toiletries, pads and tampons, condoms, hand soap, and lotion. Definite homey vibe.

As I step through the door into the hallway, I’m jolted from my chill by a deep voice.

“Look at you all caszh and relaxed.” 

He’s propped between the men’s and women’s, so close I brush his arm when I whirl around to connect the voice with a face.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Hmm.” He pushes off the wall and turns into me, backing me against the closed door.

“There’s that flush,” he murmurs. He does that thing with his finger again that made me smack his hand away earlier this week. This time, I let him.

“Is it because I scared you,” he pauses and catches my eye. “Or something else?”

I close my eyes and let my head fall back to the door, feeling the heat and buzz of a potentially malicious yet certainly pleasurable outcome. He slides a knee between my thighs and skims a heavy hand over my hip, nuzzling against my throat with a low chuckle.

My breath catches in my chest under the hand he has pressed there, holding me in place, keeping me where he wants me. Ire swirls and rises from my gut, and I grip his t-shirt in my fists to yank him into the restroom.

“There she is.” He stumbles backward with a grin as I throw the lock.

“Shut up.” I push him to sit in the chair before climbing astride him and diving in.

His lips are plush and demanding, his beard is soft, and his mouth is superheated and whiskey-wet. He’s hard and hot everywhere I touch as I tug at the button and zipper of his jeans. His hands roam over denim and my cotton t-shirt. He nips at my lips and toys with the button of my jeans.

“Fuck,” I growl, pushing out of his lap to get my pants down.

Before I know it, he’s spun me around, and he’s shimmying my jeans and underwear over my hips and down my thighs. He slumps into the chair and fits a condom over his length, then juts his hips forward to give me a place to rest. One long arm wraps my middle, and he slips two fingers over my wet slit. The wide pads of his fingertips swirl around my clit, and I brace my hands on the arms of the chair. Then he’s teasing me with his hard cock, rutting underneath, making me squirm. 

When he finally pushes inside, I shout and groan from the stretch and insane rhythm he’s keeping on my clit. I go off—ride him, pumping my thighs and elbows, using his arm around my middle for leverage. 

In less than a minute, I’m coming. One second later, he’s on his feet with me on my knees in the chair. He forces me to bend and hold onto the back, grips my bare hips, and pushes inside me again. He’s muttering, grunting, and, god, he’s hitting that spot with every thrust. 

“Come on, Brandy,” he gasps. “Lemme feel that tight little cunt come again. Make me come.”

I reach down between my legs and press over my mound, relishing his measured thrusts. I’m booze and fuck drunk, and my ears are ringing. His hands tighten on my hips, and we both come, swearing and howling.

Chapter Two coming soon...

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[yeonboy]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 ♡ choi soobin.

If it was up to you, you would worship the very ground Choi Soobin walks. No, you’re not a simp, he’s just that amazing – the star of your college’s broadcasting club, your role model, the reason why you even have a dream career, and…someone you’d really like to make out with if he’d allow it. But the first ever conversation you have with him has your rose-tinted, star-studded glasses shattering to pieces when he turns out to be a huge jerk. Is this just a misunderstanding or is it the end?

❧ choi soobin x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ strangers to lovers!au ♡ angst ♡ fluff

❧ 10 k words

❧ warnings! inaccuracies wrt broadcasting journalism majors & college broadcasting clubs, profanity, some suggestive language, misunderstandings, allusions to slut-shaming, soobin being an accidental (?) asshole, some heartbreak, some conflict, some yelling, insecurities wrt social standing in college, yn is a certified soob simp™ but goes thru a hater era for half a day </3, stinky cute fluff later on, some cringe, so much blushinG it’ll make u sick, a make out sesh, cameo by yj & his girl from fic 1 bec i love them sm :(

❧ note! set in the same universe as no one but you. i’ve been working on this since marCh, idk why it took me so long to finish? the wc def ran away from me a little whoops! anyways, this gets rough in the middle – soobin might shock u with his behavior but it will all get resolved, i promise!

leave me feedback if you like this! follow for more! (:

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

“I’m sorry, the tryouts are closed!”

You blink. Take a step away. Peek at the huge poster stuck on the huger double doors to the auditorium. The notice says the tryouts would run from four to six in the evening – it’s presently five minutes past five. What the heck?

Around you, you notice a number of girls looking as disgruntled as you feel. You approach one. “Uh, hey…did you already do your piece?”

The girl twirls a vibrant purple strand of hair around her finger and rolls her eyes. “Nope. Choi’s bitch ass shut the doors unannounced ’cause he’s pissed off for some reason.”

Choi? Bitch ass? This girl can’t possibly be talking about the Choi Soobin, right? The prince of the university’s broadcasting club who always emcees every single stage performance the university hosts?

No, she can’t be. No one would refer to the Choi Soobin’s glorious behind as ‘bitch ass.’ Besides, you really don’t think he’d sit around judging freshmen entrants to the club when he’s got so many better, so much cooler things on his schedule.

Choi Soobin the Great has been in this club for three years, two of which he has spent as its president. That, in itself, should be pretty explanatory with regards to how skilled he is at the whole announcer, emcee, broadcast business. 

His extraordinary talent with the mic is what inspired you to pick broadcast journalism as your major, in fact. You'd entered the university on jittery, scared steps because you didn't believe you would actually find something that interested you enough to make a career out of. You spent a whole academic year fluttering between psych and communication, aimless and despaired.

But then came sophomore year where you volunteered to set things up for the new freshman batch's orientation week – and that is when you saw Choi Soobin, a fellow sophomore, take the stage and blow everyone away. He was so good with his audience of the new admittees, providing them with all the important information without making them feel nervous because he used the perfect amount of jokes as a buffer.

It was love at first sight for you.

Okay, like, not like that. You did end up making an altar for Choi Soobin the Great where you continue to worship on the daily because he's a god on stage, but what you actually fell in love with was the art of emceeing.

So you registered your major in your third semester and began to work on polishing your skills. Now, two semesters later and midway through the junior year, you finally feel confident and prepared enough to enter your God's actual, holy shrine and join his praying circle.

…maybe you should stop with these metaphors before it gets weird.

Anyways.

Case in point – unlike this uninformed rodent of a girl who found it fit to disrespect your role model and gave up on these tryouts in favor of rolling her eyes and complaining in the hallway, you are nothing if not strong-willed. 

You are finally ready to do something about your one true passion that you can actually see yourself pursuing professionally after college. Being part of the university's broadcasting club means guaranteed dream job; you've seen it happen with your eyes for two consecutive years. You're finally ready to follow suit; finally ready to join the ranks of the elite and learn from Choi Soobin the Great himself – and you are not about to let a gruff call of  "tryouts are closed" from an overworked janitor deter you.

Checking this way and that for any onlookers, you sneak off to the narrow passage to the side that you know connects to this auditorium's back door, and in turn, the cafeteria. You're just gonna casually stroll through it, maybe loiter a bit around the doors until someone from the judges panel steps out so that you can beg them to give you a chance. And if someone catches you? You were just looking for the cafe!

It's the perfect plan.

Until, that is, your loitering ends with the legend himself, Choi Soobin the Great stepping out of the backdoor and freezing you to a statue.

You've seen the man from afar more times than you can count on both hands. You're a true fan, a great admirer, a semi-obsessed devotee (?) of his. But never once have you seen the guy from this up close. Needless to say, your brain's short circuiting a little.

Three things strike you all at one – that the university's emcee prince did, in fact, sit in to judge freshman entrants to the broadcasting club despite his various busy schedules; that the purple haired female auditionee actually did call this great man's glorious behind 'bitch ass' like an uncultured heathen; and finally, that Choi Soobin sporting a combination of dark black hair, bright red lips and stark white t-shirt should be banned because it can cause brain malfunctions in people.

Because while the guy's eyes widen and then squint as he looks at you, and mouth opens as if to say something to you – you stay absolutely frozen, literally turned to stone without a single muscle moving in your body. Including your lungs that are jammed because you're pretty sure you aren't breathing.

"Um… can I help you?"

Oh shit, his dimples…

His dimples!

You realise this is entering borderline creepy territory but you can't help staring at him. He's just so pretty. Though your brain functions are still experiencing a slight lag, you're starting to realize that your crush on the guy is winning over the admiration and respect you have for his talents, at the moment.

He's ethereal. He's unearthly. He's the most beautiful guy you've ever met. You're a simp.

"Excuse me?" Soobin's head tilts to the side in confusion. "Can I help you?"

He definitely can, in more ways than one, but that conversation is for another time.

His impatiently raised eyebrows suddenly push you back into motion, breaking your frozen state, but now you're on an overdrive, very close to hyperventilating in front of him.

"H–hey! I mean, h–hi. I mean, fancy bumping into you here! N–not that we bumped, just, uh—haha, you know? Fancy – fancy seeing you here, how have you been?"

Oh

God.

Did all of that just exit your mouth?

You need a shovel because this calls for digging up a hole and burying yourself alive. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Your entire face feels like it's caught on fire, and all the nerve endings in your body are tingling from embarrassment. You feel like you're vibrating. Wait, if you vibrate at a frequency that's outside of the visible range, can you voluntarily make yourself disappear?

The only thing holding you back from combusting into flames is the amused smile that replaces the previously formal tilt on Soobin's lips. "Hi. I'm sorry, where do I know you from? You look very familiar, but I'm just missing it…"

You look familiar? So he does notice you in class! Maybe getting that hair spa last month has worked in your favor, after all. You're getting a little googly eyed, but you do your best to control your reactions as you gauge his.

He looks so darn cute with his dimpled smile that makes his eyes squint, that you're left gaping for a couple of seconds before you're able to notice the hand he is forwarding you. Nodding haphazardly, you forward yours and let him wrap his huge palm around your significantly smaller one. Even though you try to repress it, the warmth his skin emanates sends a shiver running through you.

If Soobin notices the subtle shake your body gives, he doesn't comment on it.

He's being so angelically patient and kind, you need to get it together! 

So you clap your hands in front of your face and pull your lips up in a smile, preparing yourself to say your thing without any unnecessary words this time. 

"Uh, I'm – I'm in your class? I don't know if you know me, but I know you! I'm, um, I'm here for the broadcasting club. And – and I noticed that the banner said that the tryouts would run from four to six, but I've been told that the gates have been closed when it is barely past five, so I was… w–wondering…" You slowly trail off, stuttering a little when Soobin's facial expressions do a sudden one-eighty.

Gone is the sweet, dimpled, kind guy who was smiling at you with his eyes. Now his lips are pursed and eyebrows furrowed, a clear look of irritation on his face. Well, he's still got a dimple showing, but this one's part of his frowny face so you're not sure if you should be admiring it anymore.

"Wow. You're gutsy." His tone has changed now, too, really stiff with an underlying scoff in words. "Did you follow me here?"

You blink in surprise. "What? Of course not! The – the main doors were closed, so I was looking for another way in and—"

"Good God, please stop talking," he interrupts you with a groan, rolling his eyes as he tilts his head to look skywards – and you're fully paralyzed now, clueless and a little scared because Soobin looks so mean and intimidating with his eyebrows scrunched up like that. "I don't get what you guys' problem is. I'm – I'm trying to do something serious here. Why the hell do you not get it?"

Blinking slowly, you gape at your idol, your icon, the deity of all things broadcasting as he yells at you about something you can make neither head nor tail of. 

'You guys'? Who? 

You know that you of all people definitely get that he's doing something serious. You're as much, if not more, serious about the club yourself; the reason why you've taken so long to decide to audition for it. Besides, how's he judging you when you've never met before?

Willing your frozen lips to move, you attempt to clear the air. "We've – we've never met before. You don't know me. I'm—"

"Oh, I know you enough." This time there is vitriol in his eyes as he spits the words, and you take an actual, vary step away from Soobin. "I've been through twenty auditions and seen fifty applications in the past hour and every single one of the girls like you is dying to get to interview the hockey team and talk to Yeonjun about his strategy for his final season in college. So I know exactly who you are and exactly what you're after."

He is rolling his eyes again, this time with both his hands braced on his waist.

But his words are very confusing and a little hurtful. Why is he grouping you with whatever 'girls like you' he's seen so far? You've been a fan of Soobin for a while now, but you've never encountered any instance of even a mention of him being anything less than courteous and big hearted.

This attitude from him feels like living a fever dream – and not of the good kind.

"So for the last time – I'm not taking any of you groupies into this club because it is not a means to get into the hockey captain's pants! I need serious people who look at announcing and broadcasting with respect and not as something they can use as cover for their ulterior motives. Oh, and if it means anything to you at all, Yeonjun hyung has a girlfriend now. We probably won't even be covering him at all because his fangirls are always a bit too much."

Your head is spinning a little now. 

Did he call you a groupie? Yeonjun's groupie? He thinks you're doing this to get into Yeonjun's… what the hell?

While you're still processing his previous words, Soobin gives a wince. "Look, I'm sorry if all this sounds harsh, but you've left me no choice. Trying to corner me was a really low blow, okay? There's a limit to acting desperate and you're clearly crossing the line, here. If you can't respect me or the club, at least respect yourself."

The pieces have finally fallen in place in your head. You couldn't make sense of it earlier because you didn't really allow yourself to think Soobin would go there. But given his last statement, now you have no doubts.

You don't live under a rock – you really can't afford to when you dream of joining the broadcasting club, of all things – so you obviously know hockey captain Choi Yeonjun and the hype surrounding him. And because you always do your homework well, you also know that he used to be somewhat of a serial dater before he got into a serious relationship with his long time best friend, just last month. All of Yeonjun's fangirls across campus have been disheartened by this development and have been acting desperate ever since.

But why on earth has Soobin pegged you as one of them escapes you. You did not say a word about the hockey team. You didn't get to tell him what your goals actually are. Hell, you didn't even get to tell him your name before he shut you down.

This is a very overwhelming generalization, and you really wanna give Soobin the benefit of the doubt here because going through fifty bullshit applications can be a lot – but he needs to hear you out for you to do that.

"Soobin," you try again, raising both your palms up in an attempt to placate him, "I don't know how you're getting this idea, but I'm not one of – one of Yeonjun's groupies, or whatever, okay? I literally told you I'm in your class."

“Look, I really don’t have time for all these tales,” Soobin interrupts you with a sigh, a huge hand raised up to shut you up – so you do. “You’re dressed… too prettily to be trying out for the broadcasting club, anyways. Is that a cheerleading skirt?”

He's looking down his nose at your miniskirt that you felt very pretty in, annoyance on his face, and now –

Now you're hurt. Now you're hurt beyond giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now you're hurt enough for your eyes to sting with offense.

“Are you trying to pass a judgment on my…clothes?” you ask him in shock, your voice low and a frown creasing your forehead. 

He looks a little uncomfortable as he clears his throat. “I’ve seen the way Yeonjun’s fangirls dress, and you kinda… fit the description.”

He really isn’t giving up on the groupie allegations…

In any other scenario, you would honestly take that as a compliment. Because you have seen these girls as well and their appearance is honestly on another level. But this guy in front of you definitely means it as an insult. And he is still scowling, as if you have dressed up to personally offend him.

You’re at a complete loss now. He hasn’t let you talk, you haven’t even told him your name, and he is acting like knows everything about you. His mind seems fully made up too. 

What are you supposed to do?

"You know what? Maybe I… I should leave through the front door,” he murmurs in your general direction and then moves to step back through the gates he’d emerged from.

You just stay rooted to your place, offended at his dismissal and still in partial disbelief. 

Choi Soobin is nothing like anything you thought he was. 

The smiling, giggling, squinty-eyed guy that you always heard being called kind-hearted, warm, understanding and sweet? Cannot be the same guy you just met. Part of the reason why you like him so much has been the overwhelming amount of praises you have heard about him. 

At times, you found yourself wondering how such an important and busy guy could muster enough patience to be a sweetheart to everyone. Now you know that it’s all a sham – a character he has created to showcase. It’s all pretend. 

This, the version of him you just met, is what the real Choi Soobin is like when no one’s looking. 

Not just your crush, but your idol has broken your heart. 

How are you gonna move on from this?

"Y/N!"

The sudden shout of your name makes you jump in surprise, wide, watery eyes turning to the end of the hallway. Soobin has stopped in his place as well, a frown on his forehead as he attempts to follow your gaze – but he's a little off center from the curved hallway to be able to locate a bubbly looking Yeji excitedly waving at you. 

Oh fuck. Not right now. You don't need your best friend to witness you experiencing the worst moment of your entire life.

But Yeji being the loudass clown she is, doesn't stop speaking at the top of her voice as she marches down the hallway to you. "Where have you been? The janitor says they closed the tryouts? Did you pass? Oh, and a girl told me Choi Soobin was in the judging panel! Did you get to see him?"

Your eyes jump wide, traveling to the said guy involuntarily to witness the way confusion overtakes his face. He isn't moving, though, probably out of intrigue now that he has heard his name, and you're halfway scared to death that Yeji is about to reveal your secret and bathe you in the kind of embarrassment that you will never be able to live down.

"Yeji, I'm just—"

"Babe, why do you look so pale?" she cuts you off, squinting as she nears you, and before you can get another word out, her lips are tilting mischievously and eyebrows are wiggling. "Did Choi find out about your obsessive crush on him? Did he kick you out? Are you hiding from him?"

Yeji is done walking up to you and is now standing with her back to the still open door to the auditorium to look at you with her head tilted and hands braced on her waist. But your gaze is stuck to the person whose face you can easily see over her shoulder.

Soobin's eyes are impossibly wide and mouth is parted to allow his bunny-like front teeth to peek out. There's a subtle flush covering the top of his cheekbones, ears and the bridge of his nose – a sight that would've had you cooing in adoration if you weren’t so distraught, right now.

And then his lips move to form a broken sentence that makes you want to stab Yeji and then yourself: "You… obsessive crush… me?"

To her credit, Yeji seems to recognise the guy's voice and also the context of this ridiculous situation pretty quickly. Her eyes grow wide immediately before a wince overtakes her face as she mouths the word 'sorry' to you, probably mistaking your fallen expressions to be a reaction to the chaos she has caused. Little does she know.

Just as she has stepped aside, Soobin takes a step closer to you, heavy guilt and bewilderment sewn into the lines of his forehead and the twist of his lips. It's so weird that your heart is still skipping a beat when his gaze searches yours. 

It's so unfair. 

You inhale deeply and shake your head, though, steeling yourself against his deceitful innocent eyes. His dimples are just a facade to hide his arrogance. You know better now.

"Not anymore, don't you worry," you tell him with your chin lifted and eyes narrowed.

And damn, you feel so brave for that one. Especially because the words aren't even true. Getting over him will be a hefty task and you have no idea where to even begin, because your life has pretty much revolved around the guy for over a year.

Soobin frowns at that, looking almost hurt, and you want to laugh in his face at the hypocrisy. But you've had enough of him judging you and you're also ninety-eight percent sure you will end up crying if you tried to laugh, so you choose to just grab onto an embarrassed and confused looking Yeji's wrist and tug her with you to the other end of the hallway, exiting into the college's cafeteria.

"Babe, that was—ow!"

Yeji is cut off by you smacking her upside the head. "You're so fucking stupid, Hwang."

"I know… I'm sorry?" 

"Shut up, you’re buying me lunch."

The next day, while you’re supposed to be attending your Media Law class, a mandatory course in your major, you find yourself sitting (read: sulking) in a corner of the library by yourself, staring at the laptop in front of you unseeingly. Your attendance is good enough to save your grades and you can beg Chaewon for notes later in the week. 

But you truly don’t have enough mental strength to face the class’ star student after the shitshow that went down, yesterday.

While Yeji bought you lunch yesterday, you filled her in on everything that happened. Your best friend provided you with a shoulder for your tears, some tissues for your snot and four golden words of advice: never meet your heroes. Because now everything is ruined, and you’re beginning to wonder if picking this major was even worth it when the reason why you did has turned out to be a sham himself.

Your phone suddenly pings with a message, breaking your chain of spiraling thoughts.

11:03 | yeji 💘 dood. guess who i bumped into omw to the chem lab and guess what he asked me for

You blink and then squint at your phone. Why is your best friend trying to be so mysterious? 

↪ wtf ji…? ↪ who asked u for what? ↪ are u okay?

11:05 | yeji 💘 what? yeah i’m okay choi soobin asked for your number

What? 

↪ yeji… ↪ tell me u didn’t give it to him

11:06 | yeji 💘 of course not bestie <3 i told him to talk to you in person he’ll be there in a min good luck! 💋💋💋

You hadn’t even fully inhaled your breath of relief at Yeji’s first text when she cut it short with the next one. In person? In a minute? 

Did Yeji tell him where you are?

“Uh, hey… Can we talk?”

She did. Shit.

Even if you don’t lift your gaze from your phone, Soobin’s tall form blocks the incoming light from the window you were seated next to and casts such an obvious shadow on your form that you cannot ignore him without making it weird. So you lick your lips and collect your nerves, preparing yourself to face the guy who single-handedly inspired and then shattered your future plans.

Soobin looks as devastatingly handsome as ever, dressed in a white, collared shirt. His hair is just as black, lips just as red, but there’s an additional pair of thick, black, round-framed glasses sitting on his eyes this time that make your heart beat faster. He just had to look like a runway model in glasses. The universe hates you. Figures.

The expressions on his face scream clear distress and the guilt you saw yesterday. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, which is a great sign because his bitch ass should be antsy about his audacity of talking to you now when he didn’t wanna listen to you yesterday.

Wow. Maybe that purple haired girl really was onto something, yesterday. Choi Soobin’s derriere is most definitely a rude and a bitch ass.

Looking down at your laptop, you clear your throat and ask him, “What do you wanna talk about?”

You don’t ask him to sit, you do not smile, don’t even wave back in response to his lame ass ‘hey’ – just cut straight to business. You’re proud of the way your voice sounds the right amount of impatient and careless.

“I… I owe you an apology.”

That has you looking at him again. He’s frowning now, looking so conflicted, you almost soften. But then you stop yourself. This is probably not even that heartfelt. He heard about your crush on him and now he pities you. You won’t be a vessel for him to pretend to clear his conscience when he wasn’t even willing to get off his judgemental high horse for you.

“Soobin… don’t.”

He takes the seat opposite yours, ignoring your eyebrows that rise up in shocked outrage. "I have to. Please."

"You really don't—"

"I was horribly out of line, ridiculously ignorant, unprofessional and – and an asshole."

You blink at him in mild surprise. At least he knows; that’s an oddly good start. "You can say that again."

He removes his glasses and rests his elbows on the table, leaning towards you with wide, desperate eyes. "I do not expect you to forgive me, I just need you to – to know that I'm not… I'm not who I was yesterday. That's not – I was under pressure and I felt irritated, insecure and a little jealous? And I said everything I didn't mean. Especially that comment about your dress up! I didn't mean it, I swear! You looked pretty, your skirt was really cute, okay? I – I didn't mean to insult you, I would never stoop to that level."

Your cheeks involuntarily heat up at the compliment he tosses at you so casually. "Why say it when you didn't mean it?" you mumble, attempting to hold your ground and stay mad because he's saying all the right things to weaken your resolve and give him an ear.

He hangs his head as if in shame. "Because I'm a moron. None of the stuff I said was aimed at you. As you said, we hadn't even met before, and… I was frustrated and tired and just drew all these wrong conclusions about you and went off like an idiot. I feel so horrible. I'm so fucking sorry..."

Very slowly, you lean back in your chair and shut your laptop. He really knows how to apologize, damn. 

You were preparing to knock Choi Soobin off the throne you had him sitting on, mentally, and then crush that very throne to pieces because if he could disappoint you like this, you were determined to never look for another role model. You were preparing yourself to leave Choi Soobin and his arrogance in dust and move on with your life.

But now here he is – apologizing like the decent human being you always thought him to be, saying everything you’d never admit you needed to hear.

He’s climbing back upon the throne that took you a whole day to make up your mind to remove him from. 

You’re kinda pathetic, to be honest…

In an attempt to regain some of the dignity your inner monologue has stripped you of, you frown at him. But you are definitely intrigued now because if the kindness and sweetness he shows everyone is a facade, why is he being kind and sweet to you in private?

Could there possibly be… an explanation for his behavior yesterday? He said he was under pressure and frustrated. Although you understand the former, given his position and the auditions yesterday, you don’t really get why he would be frustrated.

When you meet his gaze again, you find Soobin looking at you with those wide eyes of his spilling desperate hope. So you decide to bite.

 "You – you keep saying you were frustrated… Why was that? "

He thumps his head against the table with a groan, making you jump a little in surprise, and then looks up with a determined expression on his face. "I'll begin from the beginning. I owe you that much."

"You really don't owe me any—"

"Please, Y/N."

Oh. Did he say your name? Oh.

Wow, this is why crushes are horrible. Now your heart is thumping wildly and your face feels really hot. Honestly, there should be a system where one can run a background check on an individual before they can be deemed safe enough to be crushed on so that one doesn’t end up embarrassing oneself.

You can only hope your face hasn’t heated up to a noticeable degree.

"I… Since the day I was made President of the Broadcasting Club and was given the duty to conduct interviews for the different sports teams our college has, there’s been this – this recurring pattern. Huge throngs of girls that want to join the club for a chance to interview the hockey team and get close to Captain Choi.” He gives a tired exhale and runs a hand down his face. “I’ve seen it repeat every semester. And this time it got really out of hand because I actually decided to sit in for the tryouts…”

You didn’t even notice when you leaned on your elbows to mirror Soobin’s seating position and focused your eyes on his face, so when he looks up to meet your gaze, your breath catches for a moment. And then you see absolute, sheer tiredness reflected by his brown orbs.

He cannot be this good of an actor, can he be? That would mean that he's really been going through something with this whole insincere signing up for the club thing.

"It was really wrong of me to explode on you the way I did," he continues in a softer voice, looking down at the table next to his palms. "I assumed you were one of the girls that had been giving me a hard time and… didn't even let you say your thing. I'm really, terribly sorry for being a jerk to you."

Your jaw drops a little at the sincerity that spills from his apology. He doesn't sound like he's doing this to clear his conscience or out of pity – he sounds really regretful. He almost sounds like he's in pain, in fact. 

Does he really feel that guilty?

He would only be feeling so bad about this if… everything he has said so far is the truth and he’s actually not the kind of person he painted himself as, yesterday. You can sense the way your previously drawn conclusions begin to dissipate little by little.

"After you left," Soobin begins again, this time with a slight twinkle in his eyes and a tilt to his lips that makes his dimples pop, "I went looking for your application form and read about your interest in announcing. You… you picked your major because of me?"

Your cheeks are definitely on fire now and there’s no way Soobin can’t see that. Why did you put that in your form, you embarrassing imbecile? 

Well. If Soobin has been gusty and virtuous enough to come looking for you and make an attempt to honestly explain himself and apologize, maybe you can be a little honest with him as well.

"You see… the freshman orientation you hosted last year left an impact on me," you reveal, unable to look at him. "And then I saw your sports coverage and realized that I want to be a sports announcer in future."

Soobin says your name, making you look up and meet his soft gaze. "I never thought I would do anything in life that would be worth an inspiration… so this means a lot to me. A lot.” His eyes are shining with sincerity and emotion, and you’re looking into them, spellbound. “I am so sorry I hurt you and I’m ready to try and make it up to you for as long as needed. I don’t really expect you to accept my apology, like I told you, but if you would please give me another chance, I would like to show you who I really am. And maybe initiate you, if you’d like?"

He finishes with a sweet, dimpled smile and maybe that is to be blamed for the way his question bounces right off of you.

"Initiate…me?" You cluelessly blink at him.

"Yeah. Into the club. All the members went through your application and some samples of you emceeing. So it’s not just mine, but everybody’s decision. Insistence, if you will. Request? We – we’d really really like to have you on our team."

Your eyes jump open very wide at that. Join the club of your dreams? He’s finally offering you the spot you thought you’d lost forever? 

Wait, did he say samples? Of you emceeing?  What?

"I’m sorry, what samples?"

A blush tinges his ears. "I contacted your friend Yeji about this, last evening. Please don’t be mad at her, she just wanted to help you. She told me how much this means to you… and then sent me a couple of clips of you managing a stage during a kids’ talent show in your neighborhood. You were really impressive, Y/N."

Holy fucking hell, you're going to scream. 

First at Hwang Yeji for going behind your back and selling you to the enemy, no matter what her motivation might’ve been. And then because your idol just complimented you on something you've learned from him.

"Th–thank you, Soobin." You bite your lip at the stutter in your voice, peering up at him with hesitant eyes. And then you decide to be honest with him again: "Your praise… means a lot to me."

Soobin's eyes sparkle at that, a warm smile pulling at his lips. "And I promise to always remember, respect and honor that. Just one chance?”

You stay like that for the next few moments, looking at him with a soft gaze.

You’ve been polishing your skills to prepare yourself for a spot in this club for a year. If you had gotten the chance to audition normally yesterday, there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve made the cut. So wouldn’t it be unfair if you give up now?

And then there’s Soobin, of course. It’s going to take you some time to trust him. But if he says he’s willing to work on it, says it with a sincerity in his eyes that gives you goosebumps, you believe it’s worth giving him a chance to correct the misunderstanding he caused yesterday.

You exhale, mind made up, and nod at the guy tentatively. “Promise me you will hear what I have to say before you draw any conclusions?”

He leans closer to you, bringing his face at the same level as yours and nods eagerly. “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Do I take this as a yes to joining the club?”

His eagerness makes you crack a smile, which causes Soobin to scrunch his nose bashfully. You inhale deeply and give him another nod. “Yes, you may.”

Time flies really fast after that day as you attempt to find a stable way of juggling your classes and the club duties. 

The work isn’t as much in bulk as it is in the details. Soobin is, as you’d known beforehand, a meticulous perfectionist. Every single activity the club is involved in has to be fully planned in bullet points and a step-wise-step itinerary, and uploaded to the club’s shared Google Drive, days in advance, or Mr. President begins to lose his calm . You, being the newest addition to the bunch of six experienced members, are mostly tasked with assisting the guy on building this very itinerary.

Not that you mind.

The more time you spend next to him, witnessing him in his element up close and actually getting to peer into the creative wonderland that his mind is, the more you find yourself in awe of him. He has been a role model to you for a reason, after all.

With each passing day, you pat yourself on the back for taking a chance by accepting his apology as you slowly begin to see the real him – the version of him that is absolutely nothing like the asshole you met that day. And little by little, your trust in him begins to grow.

Soobin, to his credit, doesn’t leave a single stone unturned to make you feel welcome into the club. He is incredibly patient and delicate with you – always pausing to check whether you have been keeping up with all the new stuff or if you need any guidance.

You’re beginning to understand that it is in his nature to be kind. The word that got around about him has been correct all along – he really is gentle, understanding and sweet. And if he is going an extra mile for you with the intention of appeasing you because he is apologetic? Well… he’s damn well succeeding. 

The two of you have quickly fallen into a routine where you attend your 10 am Media Law class together, collect the communication majors Karina and Jongho from their block, and then report to Arin—the only senior in the club and known to be an effortless ace—in the broadcasting room. After a short briefing about the previous days’ tasks and a rundown of the fresh day’s checklist, you and Soobin depart to the library to work on it. 

After that you both attend your separate afternoon classes, meet up at the broadcasting room at four in the evening for the college announcements that are alternated between Yunjin and Jongin, sophomores and the final two members of the club, and the lot of you finally take your leave some time around six.

The first week is so exhausting for you that you are barely left with enough strength to feed yourself before you collapse into bed every night, let alone think about your academics. You don’t even text Yeji for three whole days, until she accosts you in the library. 

Soobin texts you, that evening, sharing tips on time management, task management as well as a small list of snacks that he munches on to retain energy. To say your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the gesture would be an understatement. 

The following weeks are full of you being on the receiving end of more such thoughtful acts by Soobin. Getting you coffee – one that is made exactly the way you like it – before the evening meet-up, walking you to your dorm if you don’t have anyone from your building accompanying you, repeatedly checking in to ensure you’re well-rested and not overwhelmed by the sudden change in your routine.

And then there is that one time, some three weeks later, when you're filling in for an absent Yunjin and make a mistake during the announcement – landing yourself at the receiving end of Arin's ire. You feel really bad about your mistake as it is, and so the addition of a reprimand from the senior you've come to look up to has you immensely low.

"She said it was a mistake, noona."

Your head snaps up at Soobin's firm statement. His eyebrows are furrowed and arms are crossed as he looks at Arin. You, along with three other pairs of eyes, gawk at the rare sight of Soobin getting angry, and the rarer sight of him going against the club's queen.

"She's apologized thrice. What more do you expect?"

Arin looks taken aback at the brusque interruption, but doesn't put up a fight against the president. "She needs to practice her pauses, Soobin."

"And she will. I'll make sure she does." He gives a small nod to her before turning his gaze to you. Put in spot, you stare back at him with wide eyes. "I'll stay with her while she practices."

Flashing you a small smile of reassurance, Soobin turns back to the other girl and pats her shoulder to calm her down. And because no one in powerful enough to maintain a frown when Soobin unleashes the power of his dimples upon them, Arin eventually smiles in defeated acceptance and dismisses the meeting.

But your heart never quite manages to dismiss the way this incident makes you feel.

Because Soobin holds true to the promise he made as well – accompanying you to the college's courtyard whenever you're both free and practicing speech with you. To be really honest, he seems to be wanting to spend all his free time with you. You find yourself having to say no to his texts at times because you have plans with Yeji, or are too tired to function.

You'd be lying if you claimed that having so much of his attention on you doesn't make your heart to somersaults in your chest. Which is why you begin to wonder where his extra mile of apologetic appeasement ends. 

The whole apology acceptance thing happened between the two of you awhile ago. He really shouldn't have a reason to continue to dote on you as if he has been hired to take care of you. Last time you checked, you were the one with a gigantic crush on him and not the other way round.

A few explanations pop up in your head, but none of them feel plausible enough for you to even think about. So you do the next best thing – share your dilemma with Yeji on an impromptu girls’ night in, one Saturday.

For a moment, your best friend squints her eyes in the way she does when she’s analyzing some complex situation. And then she shrugs a shoulder, pops a pretzel in her mouth and announces: “Sounds like he’s got a crush.”

You blink, caught so off-guard that you’re stunned into silence. It is only when she looks at you with her eyebrows raised that you manage to cough out a scoff. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

This time Yeji’s the one to scoff. “Excuse me? What’s so ridiculous about him liking you?”

“Dude. I…” You vaguely gesture to yourself. “I’m me. And he’s…him. Choi Soobin the Great, the prince, the God, the emcee of the year.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, what’s that supposed to mean? You’re you – the princess, the goddess, the prettiest girl on campus and the best student in our year.” She tosses a pretzel at you, scowling. “You’re amazing, bff. Choi Soobin is one lucky motherfucker to have the privilege to spend so much time with you. Of course he’d fall in love! I’d date you if I was into girls!”

The last part of her sentence makes you giggle. “Stop, no one’s talking about love just yet. Do you really think he could be doing all of that with… I don’t know… the intention to woo me?”

“Of course! He’d be a fool not to!” Yeji sits up from her recline on the couch, nearly aggressively grabbing onto your shoulders to shake you. “Didn’t you hear the part where I told you I would date—hell, Ryujin would date you!”

You gape at your best friend, feeling uplifted, reassured and confused all at once. “Wha—? Does Ryujin like girls?”

“No, but she’d still date you. She’s open minded that way.”

“Yeji, what the f—”

“My point is!” She raises a finger up to silence your protest. “You’re fabulous and amazing and gorgeous – have you seen your eyes? Bff, they’re fucking pretty. Do you know what that makes you? More fucking pretty. He likes you, boo, and he's probably got a list of reasons why.”

Yeji’s love language might be words of affirmation through… aggression, but it is surely effective at reminding you of the fact that you’re lovable.

And so more time goes by, with things staying mostly normal if you don’t count the way your cheeks seem to get extra warmer with every cup of coffee that Soobin hands you, lately. If your locked gazes stay locked for longer than necessary, or if his goodbye hugs linger a little and cause your heart to nearly beat out of your chest – it is no one’s business but your own. 

You know, deep in your heart, that you never really got over the guy. He left you heartbroken for a total of 36 hours, while he's spent more than 36 days swirling up a swarm of butterflies in your tummy with every action of his.

It is inevitable for you to fall for him all over again.

You have absolutely no plans of doing anything about it, however, because you have come to really cherish the close friendship you share with Soobin. You like the wheel of routine the two of you constantly spin within and don't wanna change a thing about it.

Although, that is not to say that no change ends up happening.

The wheel of routine makes a detour around a week later, some five weeks after your initiation into the broadcasting club, when you find yourself wrapped in a jacket and still shivering, sitting next to the university’s star athlete on the bleachers in the hockey arena, at six in the morning.

“Is that all? For real?” Choi Yeonjun asks you with his eyes wide in pleasant surprise. “That was quick.”

While you just nod with a chuckle, his girlfriend peers at you from his other side and punches him in the side. “I’ve told you the important questions don’t take that long! Your fangirls just wanna extend the interviews because they wanna ogle you longer.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, I promise,” you tell the girl with a grin, which she returns fully.

“Nah, you don’t even have to tell me because I can see it in your body language,” she mumbles, pressing her cheek into her boyfriend’s shoulder, over which he tips his own head affectionately. “You’re the first ever girl to not view him like a piece of meat. I’m not even kidding.”

“Ah, I’m sorry about that. Your man’s okay, but he’s not my type.”

Yeonjun grins widely at your words, while her girlfriend breaks into laughter because she apparently hasn’t heard anyone use the adjective “okay” for Yeonjun ever before. 

Anyone that tries to get between these two must be crazy, you realize, because you’ve sat with them for less than an hour and can already tell how deeply in love they are. And how stinkingly cute they are together.

Well, the general consensus states that Yeonjun is cute, too. Along with being handsome, beautiful, sexy – and a whole plethora of other adjectives that his fans use for him. But it becomes hard for you to agree with the opinion when your heart, instead, chooses to skip a beat for the dimpled cutie seated two steps away from you, smiling at you from behind his camera.

Right as your eyes meet, Soobin waves a hand at you to let you know he has stopped recording. Nodding, you wave goodbye to the couple next to you and leave the spot to walk up to your cameraman. 

“If I get hypothermia, you’re footing my hospital bills,” you announce as you settle next to a laughing Soobin, intentionally shifting closer to him to hopefully absorb some of his body heat. 

“I told you to bring a jacket, didn’t I?”

“And I did, but it was useless.”

“Because it was denim!” He gives a full belly laugh at that, and the sound is so beautiful to your ears that it becomes hard for you to maintain your scowl of annoyance. “Who brings a denim jacket when asked to carry one?”

“Hey, you texted me at five am!” you whine in complaint. “I could barely open my eyes, my brain wasn’t working!”

“Is that why you didn’t question me?” His tone is a little teasing and so are his raised eyebrows as he smirks at you. “I asked you to come downstairs quickly and you arrived within ten minutes, ready to run away to the mountains with me if I asked. What’s up with that, hm?”

Your cheeks feel on fire at the implication of his words. Clearing your throat, you try to come up with a response, but your heartbeat is too loud in your ears and meeting Soobin’s playful gaze might just make it crash due to the onslaught of overwhelming emotions.

Well. At least you’re feeling a little warmer now.

“You – you said it was a surprise and a huge honor that I’d later thank you for… I got excited,” you mumble, entwining your cold fingers and stuffing your hands beneath your knees to warm them up. “Thanks for thinking of me for this honor but honestly…” You gesture towards Yeonjun with your chin. “I don't really care for athletes. They’re not my type. I prefer brains over brawn. This guy’s taken, anyway, so people should really…”

You trail off when you turn to look at Soobin and find him smiling at you almost knowingly, such unabashed affection in his gaze that your throat closes up with nervousness. 

“I… I – I mean—”

“Yeonjun’s not your type?”

Swallowing past your nerves, you very slowly shake your head. “Is that a surprise?”

He shrugs his shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant, but you see the stiffness that enters his spine at the question. “Yeah, kind of. He’s… well, everyone I know either wants him or wants to be him.”

Wants to be him? Oh… Your lips curve up in a small smile as it begins to make sense to you. “Including you?”

His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at you. “He’s the most popular guy at our uni, Y/N. Who wouldn’t wanna be him?”

You should be surprised by his answer but you somehow aren’t. Because this ties up with a number of things you’ve been unable to fully make sense of about Soobin. Most of all, this explains why it would get him so riled up that people would try to use him and his club – one of the most sacred things he holds in his life – just to get close to Yeonjun. It would also explain why he would have felt insecure and jealous about it.

Emotions such as these are hard to navigate. Within the month that you’ve spent working closely with Soobin, you’ve come to know that he cares about his friends a lot – he truly loves them and would go to extreme lengths to help them whenever and wherever. It pains you that he struggles with this burden on the inside.

You need him to know that he shouldn’t. That he doesn’t need to. 

Which is why you shuffle closer to him, to the point where your thighs brush together, and look into his wide, bunny eyes to tell him that: “When I first saw you, I was fully convinced you were the most popular guy at the uni. And it stayed with me for months until I began my research into uni related facts and opinions and found out about our hockey team. This is why I could never gather enough courage to approach you, you know? You were this tall, handsome and sweet guy – textbook university crush material. How could you not be the most popular?”

Soobin’s cheeks turn pink, then pinker, then bright red, and by the end of your confession, he’s got a trail of redness climbing up to his ears. His eyes stay glued to yours, even as he bites down on his bottom lip.

When you see the way he exhales shakily, you finally release a giggle at his flustered state. “What? Are you really blushing that hard? How're you so cool as an emcee but your cheeks go red when a girl compliments you, Soobin?”

Soobin huffs out a laugh through his nose and rolls his eyes, pursing his lips to bite back his smile. Then he shakes his head. “Not just any girl.” 

This time, you feel a similar blush begin to cover your face. You attempt to joke it away. “I… I’m h–honored, I guess?”

Smirking at your stutters, Soobin simply averts his gaze from yours and goes back to packing up the recording equipment. “Speaking of honors, by the way. This isn't exactly what I was talking about.”

You frown in confusion. “Oh? So what is—wait. Why did you wake me up at five, then?!”

“Woah, easy!” he laughs when you get up and brace your fists on your waist, ready to throw hands. “I brought you here because having your first solo interview with Yeonjun would give you a good boost of publicity for your future with the club.”

“Ow, are we using him for clout?” You scrunch your nose up when Soobin proudly nods.

“Precisely. And also to give you a small rehearsal so that you know what all to focus on when you prepare for the freshman orientation that’s coming up soon.”

You freeze in the middle of a nod.

To prepare you for what? 

Your brain refuses to comprehend the words. He couldn’t possibly be talking about the orientation, right? 

Eyes wide and jaw dropped, you stare at Soobin while he seamlessly continues to speak.

“You're pretty comfortable with the mic and you actually enjoy interacting with groups. I still remember the clips your friend had shown me. Orientation stage requires the ability to interact well and improvise upon the script efficiently, because you’re tasked with making sure these bunch of seventeen year olds feel welcome into their new surroundings. And you, ma’am, happen to be an ace at both the arts.”

Still in disbelief, you sit next to him again and forward a hand to hold onto his forearm, bringing his focus back on you. “Soobin… are you sure? I’ve – I’ve been here for a month, and—”

“And you were amazing even before you joined us.” He turns to you to take both your palms between his, and says your name. A surge of sparks passes through your nerve endings at the warm contact, but Soobin’s gaze grounds you – it’s so open and honest that it compels you to believe every word he says to you. “You’ve only improved with each day, right? You will be great, I’m absolutely sure.”

Nodding slowly, you begin to smile when he does.

Giving your hands a jerk, Soobin points at the couple seated a few feet away. “Just you wait and see, you’re about to go viral when this bit is released. The one girl that remains unaffected by Choi Yeonjun’s charm? Oh, you’re gonna pull so many admirers within a week. Get ready for fanboys crushing on you and sliding into your DMs. Bet they’ll have a fan page up and running before your next public appearance.” 

You break into laughter, craning away from him at his teasing. But Soobin tugs at your hands to pull you back up, this time bringing you closer to him than you were before. The previous traces of playfulness have given way to a small, expectant smile on his face.

"Do I get brownie points for being the first in line?"

What? What? An awkward chuckle leaves you, quickly dwindling when Soobin's smile remains unchanged as he continues to look into your eyes. "What… what are you talking about?"

He tilts his head sweetly, giving your hands a small squeeze as he says your name. "As if I haven't been so obvious… You're the most talented member our group has seen in a while, you know? I can't look away from you when you're working and, like, initially I thought I was being a fan… But then I started to daydream about your bright eyes, gorgeous smiles, your cute giggles, your huge fucking heart that is always so kind to everyone, and…" Soobin pauses with a sigh, cheeks turning red and dimples flashing. "Come on, are you really gonna make me say it?"

Your breath comes in stuttered gasps as you try to gather your thoughts. "Soo–Soobin, I… I… Do you really…?"

"Really like you and really want to go out with you? Yeah, I do.” He smiles at you, bringing your faces close enough to boop your nose with his own. "Is there a problem?"

"You… like me?" You feel terribly confused, somewhat lost, and just a bit scared. If Soobin doesn't mean it with one hundred percent sincerity, you'll never recover from this hurt. So you just try to deflect: "But you barely know me?"

He pulls away with a small scoff of disbelief, eyes widening in surprise. "So it's believable for you to have a crush on me when you'd never even held a conversation with me, but you can't accept that I like you because you're the most beautiful, most intelligent and the most caring person I've ever met in my life?"

Your breath hitches on an exhale – and you're unable to breathe in again for long moments after that. 

He thinks you're beautiful, intelligent and caring.

He likes you.

He actually likes you.

Yeji's words of aggressive affirmative circle in your head: He likes you, boo, and he's probably got a list of reasons why.

She was… actually right? Holy shit…

You're so freaking emotional right now, you might cry.

A cross between a chuckle and a sniffle escapes you despite your attempts of stifling it, catching Soobin by surprise. His hands immediately let go of yours to cup your cheeks in concern.

"Hey, hey, what happened? Please don't think too hard about—"

"Soobin," you cut him off with a whisper. "I like you, too. So, so much."

A slow smile begins to curl his lips up, beautifully. "You do?"

"I have for so long. I… don't think I ever stopped."

"Even with the way I hurt you so bad?" His face becomes somber for a moment. 

"Yes, even then. You've shown me who you really are, Soobin, and that person is amazing. You've proven to me that I caught you in a moment of weakness, and… I think I understand it now more than ever." You smile when his lashes flutter, eyes gazing at you as if in wonder. "Besides, I think I forgave you when you first got me my correct coffee order with that cute smile of yours."

He blushes again. "Ah, so my smile is cute?"

"The cutest." You solemnly nod, cheeks still held in his palms. "Your whole face is."

"Well then, I hope you're okay with my cute face doing this?"

You know what is coming as you watch him erase the space between your mouth and his, and yet you're not nearly prepared for the way your blood turns electric the moment his plush, heart-shaped lips make contact with yours. Pure fire surges through you, body strung tight one moment and then fallen pliant in his hold the next.

Soobin's thumbs brush against the heated flesh of your cheeks, as if attempting to comfort your loud heartbeat – but it's to no avail. Your heart works faster and faster with every push of his mouth against yours, so full of giddiness that it eventually seems to levitaties up and above your body, leaving you weightless and breathless.

You try to kiss him back to the best of your abilities, but you feel like you've been entranced – held in a dreamlike state that has rendered you completely immobile and turned your brain to goo.

Soobin seems to recognise your condition, somehow, pulling away from the kiss with a chuckle brushed against your slightly parted lips. Lidded eyes look into yours with a smile held in them, his chocolate irises turned to thin rings due to how dilated his pupils are. 

"You good?"

His voice comes out all hoarse and breathless, making your stomach clench with desire and you're instantly spurred into motion.

Reaching out with both your hands, you grip onto the back of Soobin's neck and the side of his jaw, and this time pull him in for a proper kiss with equal participation. His breath hitches for a moment, but is released in the form of a small grunt when you open your mouth against his – and that is all you need to absolutely lose yourself into the taste and feel of Choi Soobin.

You would've probably stayed lost for quite a bit too, had a loud whistle not echoed around the arena, making both you and Soobin jump apart with startled gasps. Wide eyed, you look at each other, and then two stairs above you.

Yeonjun's girlfriend is grinning at you with her entire teeth on display, while the guy himself has his arm extended towards the two of you, thumb pointed downwards.

"Her first interview isn't even out yet, dude!" he calls out, booing Soobin with his entire arm. "Literally obliterating her popularity before she could even gather bitches, you're so lame and insecure, Soob, boo hoooo!"

Soobin tosses a random plastic case towards the guy, whining into your ear as he rests his chin on your shoulder grumpily. You giggle at his pout, entwining your hands together to bring them up and press a soft kiss to the back of his.

"Are we going on that date before or after the interview is aired, then?" you tease the guy, wiggling your eyebrows.

Soobin glares at you through playfully narrowed eyes beneath lowered eyebrows, until you're giggling again and he's kissing your smile. "Definitely before."

© yeonboy 2023 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Torres: I Told You Not To 

My first NCIS attempt. I just started watching season 14 and I LOVE Nick Torres. This is set before he joins the team. Let me know how I did in catching Nick’s character. I’m still learning his personality.  

You didn’t know it was possible to be this on edge while simultaneously feeling so fatigued. The fatigue was soul-deep and not something that would be fixed with even the best night's sleep. You felt completely wrung out. It made the hypervigilance that you couldn’t turn off much more unsettling. You have been running for almost two months now. There was the constant fear of being found and killed, or worse. You didn’t have the skill set to be on the run. You didn’t know how to dodge and redirect the dangerous people trying to find you. You didn’t know how to shoot a gun or protect yourself. You were a humanitarian. You came to Argentina to volunteer at an orphanage that doubled as a battered women's shelter.  

You were well aware that you did not have the skill set necessary to protect yourself in the situation and it had never occurred to you that you might need to. Helping people without using the correct channels had never come back to bite you in the ass this hard though. Granted it had always been in America where you had the home advantage. When the woman had come and asked you for help escaping her abusive husband with her young son in tow, how were you supposed to know that everyone else had turned her away in fear of the repercussions of a powerful man. A man who ran an underground child sex trafficking ring. 

The only thing that stood between you and him was an undercover NCIS agent, Nick Torres. He had saved you after his cover had been blown and had been dragging you around since. The man was paranoid, or so you had thought in the beginning, and on constant vigilance. He was sure of a mole in NCIS and didn’t trust anyone. It left the two of you in this constant state of motion. At first, the ordeal had been frightening, a constant rush of adrenaline. It had now turned into a constant uncomfortable prickle of anxiety and suspicion of everyone and everything. It was chronic mental exhaustion. If it made you feel as bad as you did, you could only wonder how bad it was for Nick.  

He was the one who could keep you both alive. You had watched his strange humor which had the desired effect of lightening the mood in difficult and often uncomfortable situations turn into a stoic silence for the last week, maybe two. You weren’t sleeping much but it was nothing compared to him.  

You had scoffed when he told you “I don’t sleep” but had soon found it near close to the truth. He barely slept over the last two months, the last few weeks being the worst. When he did drift off it was light and fitful. Every noise or movement woke him, and it would only be after a complete recheck of the area that he would try to sleep again if he chose to even try. Most of the time he would shake himself more awake and persist wherever he was leading you to next. 

Nick was a handsome man, but he looked rough, sitting next to you on the commercial bus. His body language read exhaustion as did the dark circles underneath his eyes. They showed prominent even over his dark skin which was starting to take a more yellow jaundice undertone. Not that you were judging. You were sure that you looked like a hot mess express. You had been living in Nick’s oversized clothes and showers weren’t a frequent thing. Your hair had been in a braid for almost a week because you couldn’t stand how greasy it had gotten. Most of it was covered by Nick’s plain black baseball hat that he had forced on your head, bill pulled down low to cover most of your face. He liked you as hidden as possible saying you looked out a ghost in the land of the living. A pale white girl who couldn’t hold a conversation in Spanish in a sea of fast-speaking Latinos. It was rude but you couldn’t disagree. 

The bus had just taken off, and Nick was slumped in his seat when a chill went up your spine. You had the eerie feeling of being watched. You knew the drill, no quick movements, you had to make checking your surroundings look natural, causal.  

It was easy to spot him the man. He was a few seats behind you and openly staring. It seems too blatant to be one of the men that you have been running from, but your body tenses and you feel the blood start to pump faster through your veins. “Nick,” Your voice is low and tense. It catches his attention, and you can feel him become more alert and sit up straighter next to you. “Do you see that guy a few seats behind us? He is watching us.” Nick did a much more casual job of surveying the surroundings and when he was done, he chuckled before relaxing back into his seat. You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. 

“He isn’t watching us,” Nick stated flatly. You give a scoff of disbelief and go to object. You may be getting paranoid, but you can still tell when someone is staring. Nick cuts you off before you can get a handful of words out. “He isn’t watching us. He is watching you.” It takes a moment for the words to process. A soft oh falls from your lips when it finally clicks. 

Nick leans into your space, his hand coming up to cup the side of your neck. You exhale in surprise, but the touch is light and not unwelcome. It floods your body with a tingling warmth. “Is he still looking?” You search Nick’s face before looking back at the man. His attention had broken off you and he was now slumped against the wall staring out the window.  

“No,” His fingers brushed your cheek lightly catching a strand of hair that had come loose and securing it behind your ear.  

“Yeah, most people get uncomfortable with public displays of affection. Just like most men will respect another man when they realize that the girl they are trying to flirt with is taken.” He gives you a long look before glancing down at your chest and whispering, “I told you not to wear that.” He dropped back into his seat.  

You made a face at him, you two had gotten into a small argument at the station where you had refused to wear one of his long-sleeved shirts. It was hot and the bus was a hotbox. You had been sweating for days and washing up in the skin hadn’t tackled the problem. You just wanted to be comfortable for your trip. You had snagged a white wife beater out of his bag to put on instead. It was tight in the chest, but it felt much lighter and cooler. Nick had wisely said nothing when you came out in it. 

His comment made you look down at the shirt. I was tight and clinging to you like a second skin but the top where it was pulled tightly across your breast you saw the problem. You had been sporting a bright red bra when you left, and it was the only one you had. Because your boobs were so large there was no way of forgoing it. The flimsy white shirt that had been great for the purpose of keeping you cool did nothing to hide your bra’s florescent color nor the outline of its lace. Your cheeks flushed bright in embarrassment. You were a hot mess and gave quite the show. 

The two of you rode in silence for a while. Nick's eyes were open just a sliver as he tried to keep himself awake. It was a losing battle. He would start to doze, and his head would slide to the side waking him back up. “We have three hours until the next stop, right?” 

“You have to go to the bathroom already?” You glare at him. He had made a point to complain about your need to use the bathroom more frequently than him. “Yeah, about that.” He agreed. You nod in decision and turn to put your back against the corner where your seat meets the wall, your knees turned more toward the center aisle. 

“You should get some sleep,” He looks ready to object, “You’ve already checked everyone out on the bus, and I’ll wake you up before we hit our next stop or if anything weird happens.” He still looks hesitant, but his brown eyes have a heavy exhaustion cut deep into their depths. You pat your lap urging him to rest his head. “You’ll sleep better if you lay down.”  

“I’ll be okay,” He shimmies against his seat trying to get comfortable. The seats are hard and sleeping upright is uncomfortable in the best of circumstances. Nick is stubborn and even with everything he has done for you doesn’t want to ask for any small favors or comforts you can give him. You grab his shoulder and pull him forward to lay down, even with objections on his lips he allows you to maneuver him to lay with his shoulders and head in your lap. Nick, who had complained one too many times about you getting yourself in trouble by being too selfless chuckled lightly into your thighs as you assured him.  

“Don’t worry I’m doing it for purely selfish reasons. If you are sleep-deprived and miss something or get hurt, it will be all over for me.” You tease him, even with the truth of your words ringing in your ears. 

Nick is stiff laying in your lap for a few minutes, but it doesn’t take long for him to readjust and get comfortable enough to fall asleep. When he does, he is out cold. His body is a heavyweight against you, and he starts snoring. The physical contact felt nice. You were no stranger to his touch. Nick had been pulling, pushing, leading, and on occasion dragging you around. All of it had a purpose and none felt like real physical contact. The warmth of his body that lay on yours was soothing. You tried not to examine that feeling too thoroughly.   

Nick being relaxed enough to sleep made your own anxiety settle slightly. You still made sure to look out the window and be aware of what was going on around you, but it wasn’t as needling. You silently wondered if you two had been feeding off each other's nervous energy for too long. That paired with a lack of sleep made for a volatile combination.  

The first hour went by in a blur of Nick’s snores and passing scenery out the window. By the middle of the second hour, your ass and legs were getting numb from sitting in the same position for so long. You were trying not to fidget or shift because Nick was getting some real sleep, and you didn’t want to risk waking him. Another fifteen minutes in you couldn’t take it anymore. You set a hand on the middle of his back and started slowly shifting trying to move your leg. You had moved maybe an inch when you felt the slight jolt of movement from Nick. This body was tensed, you could feel the strong muscles in his back flex under your palm.  

“It’s okay, we’re still over an hour out.” You whisper to him running your hand down his spine. “I just need to sit a little different.” His half-lidded eyes meet yours as he lifts his body a few inches allowing you to pull your leg up onto the seat. You press your back more directly into the wall rotating the way you were sitting on your butt. He half moves half slides up your stomach as you slide down the wall. He ends up draped across you, his head on your stomach his torso resting in between your thighs. One of his hands smooths up your thigh and stops to rest there as he passes back out. 

Your hand still rests on his back. He has a hole in his dark shirt that you fiddle with for something to do. You notice his shirt has ridden up leaving a few inches of tan olive skin showing between it and his pants. The man’s body is all firm muscle. You would have to be blind not to notice how attractive he is, only exacerbated by his cocky attitude and smartass remarks. You try your best to stamp down that thought-examining the way he makes you feel would be a disaster. The only way you want to see him is as a protector. A man who is standing between you and those who want to hurt you. That's all it can be. The rest you know to ignore. You smooth down his shirt where it has bunched around his broad shoulders. You absently continue the motion rubbing his back. His back is a mess of tight knots and muscles. 

You spend the rest of the bus ride alternating between loosening the knots and resting your hand on his back and feeling it rise and fall as he breathes. You noticed the man who had been staring at you earlier kept taking quick glances at you. He quickly would avert his gaze if you happened to look his way at the same time.  

You see the sign for the first stop five miles out. You rub up Nick’s back, he hasn’t moved at all since he fell back asleep. You don’t want to jerk him out of his sleep like last time, so you set your hand over his on your thigh and squeeze it a few times. You whisper his name and see the flutter of his long dark eyelashes. “We are about five minutes out.” You expect him to immediately sit up and start his causal special agent surveillance mode. What you didn’t expect was him to lay there languidly.  

He rolls his neck, and shoulders, and then stretches. You heard a few loud pops, and he groaned in satisfaction. He then rolls onto his back and makes eye contact with you from where he is lying. He has his normal cocky smile back on his lips. The few hours of uninterrupted sleep had done him a lot of good. He seemed to be in much better spirits. You quirked an eyebrow at him in question. “Finalmente encontré tu fuerte (I finally found your forte). You make a fantástica pillow.” 

“I’m glad you approve.” You tease sarcastically. He doesn’t move to get up, so you rest your hand on his stomach, the other on the back of the seat. When the bus stops people make their way off. The man from earlier who had been watching you stops by your seat before he exits. He says something in Spanish. You catch none of it, but Nick does and clearly didn’t like it. His body is still relaxed against yours and his tone is teasing with an undercurrent of hard warning as he answers. The only thing you catch is- Entender amigo. Understand friend. The man glares at Nick before storming off the bus. “Do I even want to know?”  

“Sólo sabes cómo causar problemas (You just know how to cause trouble).” Nick watched as people started to file onto the bus. You sigh and are about to ask him to translate, silently cursing yourself for opting for ASL in school instead of Spanish. Nick’s gaze turns back to you and looks down at your chest which is now basically at eye level before redirecting up to your eyes. “I told you not to wear that shirt.” He repeats. “The next stop is ours. I squirreled away some of my own money there before I went under. Just in case. You can never be too careful, ya know? How does a hotel room sound for the night?” 

You moan in delight at the thought, “Sounds like a hot shower and a real bed. Heaven.” Nick chuckled before readjusting on your lap. 

“We have two more hours before our stop. You mind if I catch a little more sleep?”  

“Knock yourself out. Apparently, I’m a certified pillow.” You smooth his hair out of his face. It’s supposed to be a teasing gesture, but it ends up being a lingering touch. Soft. Comforting. Affectionate in a way that wasn’t intended. If Nick closes his eyes again and leans into the touch you ignore it. Just like the butterflies that are trying to awaken in your cold traumatized stomach. 

I hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think xoxo 

[gravehags]

separated by a degree

Pairing: Cirrus x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: domme Cirrus, mild BDSM, face sitting, pussy eating, fingering

Words: 2,742

Summary: You've had a rough week. Cirrus is here to make it all better.

a/n: RING A DING DING PART 6 Y'ALL like it goes without saying but Cirrus could step on my neck and I'd say thank you so this is an ode to that

@terzosbignaturals EAT UP

~~~

This week had just been too much. Too fucking much.

Ever since you bid Mountain and Aether a lingering, intimate adieu after your evening together, everything has gone to shit. The plumbing in your shower - no one else’s, you sourly think - has gone out, forcing you to have to travel all the way across the abbey to Cumulus’ room every night just to bathe. It’s not that you don’t want to see her - quite the opposite - but something about inelegantly stomping the halls in your damp flip-flops and wet hair back to your room makes you agitated. On top of that, you’ve been assigned to your usual library duties as well as being an altar sibling every mass. You’re exhausted, both mentally and physically, and you haven’t been this anxious since you were a novitiate in Papa Secondo’s summoning classes. You’ve barely seen the ghouls, let alone spent time with them, and the loneliness is beginning to take its toll. You’re currently flopped on your duvet half naked after a long mass led by Papa Nihil, groaning into the empty space when there’s a knock at your door.

“What?” you shout, throwing an arm over your eyes.

“It’s me,” comes a feminine voice from the other side whom you identify as Cirrus. Shooting up from your bed you pad over to the door and open it while still hiding your body behind it.

“Gonna let me in?” she purrs, giving what’s visible of your form a once over.

“Uh…I’m…indisposed.” you say stupidly, to which she snorts.

“Half the pack has seen everything you have to offer and now you’re shy? Cute.” She’s smirking and leaning against the entryway as you grip the door tighter.

“What’s up?” you ask in a high pitched voice, changing the subject. If this is a come on you’re flattered, and part of you aches for it but the ache in your brain and body is much more powerful.

“Wanted to offer my services,” she says, tracing a claw down the wood of the door.

“Oh?” you say, somewhat intrigued. “And what does that entail?”

“Stress relief,” Cirrus says airily, “you’ve been going through so much recently, sweetheart. And I,” she steps forward slightly, entering your space, “can help.”

You don’t even realize that you’ve opened the door wider until she’s curling a lock of your hair around her long finger and staring at you intently. Her tail slips around you and rubs gently against the curve of your ass. Your lips are parted and you’re about to say something when all of a sudden she’s stepping back. 

“Not tonight, though, I understand,” she says, examining her nails with a sigh.

“I need to shower,” you blurt out. A vaguely sinister grin unfurls on her lips.

“Use mine,” she says, leaning her head against the doorframe, tail flicking behind her lazily.

Your mouth is dry. “Okay. Yeah just let me…let me get my stuff.”

“Just a robe should be fine,” Cirrus comments, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling. “You won’t need much else.”

You clench your thighs together at the surge of wetness that creeps out of you and your clit throbs at the brief contact. If Cirrus sees you do it, she doesn’t comment on it. Abandoning your post at the door you go back to the bathroom and remove your bra and panties, already soaked through. Sliding the fluffy, dark red bathrobe over your shoulders and securing it at the waist, you return to Cirrus.

“Ready,” you say, sounding altogether too goddamn eager and Cirrus knows it judging from the way the points of her teeth peek out from between her lips.

“C’mon baby,” she purrs, escorting you down the hall with her hand on the small of your back. “I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

The walk down to the ghoul den is quiet, but you do pass Aether in the hallway and give him a little wave. When he sees who accompanies you he lets out a rather ominous chuckle and winks at the other ghoul. Cirrus looks entirely too pleased as she opens her bedroom door and ushers you inside, closing the door behind the both of you with a loud snap.

Her room is a beautiful collection of dark blues and blacks, making you feel like you’re hanging amidst the stars in the night sky. It’s calming and she seems to enjoy how your shoulders slump in relaxation.

“Go shower,” she nudges you towards the bathroom door, “then I’ll take care of you.”

You’re about to shut the door behind you when she calls out, “oh and…no need to put the robe back on.”

There it is, that sensation in your belly you feel in every encounter you have with the ghouls. That wonderful feeling of anticipation that lingers in your veins, the promise of something positively delicious, has you grinning as you turn the water on.

Cirrus’ products are nice…very nice…and you enjoy the heady fragrance that perfumes your hair after you step out of the shower. Drying off, you regard yourself in the semi-fogged over mirror. You have no idea what to expect from this encounter and it turns you on immensely. With a sigh, you drop the towel and head out to see Cirrus. Opening the door you hesitate slightly, until you peek your head around it and see what’s waiting for you. While you were in the shower, Cirrus transformed. She is no longer wearing the standard ghoul outfit you’ve come to expect, but rather a beautiful black lace lingerie set that makes your jaw drop. Your gaze drags over the rounded curve of her hips and her dark nipples - hard beneath the expensive material. Suddenly, you become hyper aware of how you’re standing stark naked in Cirrus’ bathroom doorway and move to cover yourself. She watches you hunch over yourself and grabs something from the nightstand. You recognize what’s in her hands as a leather flogger, the handle intricately and tightly woven. She runs the tendrils through her fingers as she approaches you. Flushing from tip to toe you move to touch her - anything to distract from your vulnerable state - but she stops you with the end of the whip against your sternum.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she smiles, canting her hip, “you have to earn that, pet.”

You pout at her and she gives you a look, tucking the end of the flogger under your chin to raise it.

“Get on the bed,” she snarls suddenly, “hands and knees.”

You feel her eyes follow you as you make your way to the bed and climb atop the dark duvet. On your hands and knees, as she requested, you feel a sense of humiliation wash over you and also…something else. You’re enjoying yourself. With a grin, you arch your back to expose your ass and cunt to Cirrus’ gaze. She approaches behind you and runs the flogger along your back and down your legs, making you shiver. When you attempt to crane your neck to look at her she strikes, hard and fast against your ass. You cry out and jolt forward, making her giggle.

“Look at you, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat,” she purrs, once again dragging the flogger gently against your bare skin. The sting of the first strike hasn’t faded when she hits you again. The bite of the leather tendrils against your haunches makes you cunt ache and you feel yourself drip onto the covers. She hums as she observes the mess you’re making.

“Do you like being exposed like this?” She strikes a third time, your mind spinning. When you don’t answer she strikes again.

“Yes!” you howl, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Yes, what?” she asks sweetly.

“Yes…mistress?” you guess and she strikes you again, making you sob.

“Say it like you mean it.”

When she runs the flat of her palm over the abused skin of your ass you want to cry. It’s the first time she’s touched your bare flesh and you ache for her.

“Yes, mistress!” you pant as she squeezes the globe of your ass hard enough for her claws to dig in.

“How much more can you take?” Cirrus wonders aloud, coming over to your face to tilt your chin up once again. Your damp hair hangs around your face and tears streak down your cheeks. Cirrus gives you a pointed look, indicating that although she is in control, she is ultimately asking you for permission. You nod your head in her grip.

“More, please,” you say hoarsely. She breaks character for a moment and allows her face to split in a beautiful smile.

“Good girl,” she coos, running a single claw down your cheek. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale shakily, feeling more wetness slide down your thighs.

When she returns to her position at your ass and cracks the flogger across your skin once more, you practically choke on the broken moan that slips out of you. Your arms are shaking, trying their damndest to hold you up. She slides the leather tendrils between your thighs to graze against your clit and your arms give out. You sob into the duvet as you prop yourself up on your elbows - the best you can do in your state. Cirrus doesn’t seem to mind as she is instead content to drag the flogger through your sopping folds, enjoying the way your mess glistens on the leather.

“Can you handle two more?” she asks idly, caressing your ass again.

“Yes, mistress,” you pant, whining when she removes her hand from you. The flogger comes down on your skin twice in rapid succession and your moan is more of a shout. Cirrus steps away from the bed and sets the flogger down.

“So good for me,” she croons, running a finger down your spine. “Can you be good for me a little longer?”

Your forehead hits the duvet as you whimper into the fabric. The ache in your backside stings like nothing you’ve ever felt before, but the ache in your cunt takes precedence. You push yourself back to sit on your knees and let out a ragged breath.

“Yes, mistress,” you say with surprising steadiness. Cirrus beams at you and climbs on the bed next to you.

“Lie down, pet,” she murmurs, nudging you up. You crawl towards the pillows and practically collapse on them, simply relieved to no longer be on your knees. She watches your every move as you adjust and then slowly, she slides up your body. You’re desperate to touch her, and tell her so. She laughs, her breath hot against your skin as she traces patterns into your side.

“Hmm, I suppose you’ve earned it,” she murmurs and your hands fly to her waist. You want to see more, feel more of her so you cautiously slip the lace underwear she’s wearing off her hips. She allows it, still propped up above you, and kicks the garment off when it slides down her legs. 

“You have one more task, pet, and you’ll get your reward,” she coos in your ear, before pushing herself up. Grabbing the headboard she pulls her body up yours and in a smooth motion straddles your head. Cirrus hovers there for a moment and you sigh when you glimpse how fucking wet she is. The knowledge that she is just as affected as you are makes your heart sing and you’re desperate to taste her. Slowly, too slowly for your liking but you remain silent, she lowers her cunt to your mouth. You slide your hands up her thighs to grip at her hips before leaning up to give her an experimental lick. When your tongue runs through her folds, tasting her for the first time, the both of you moan in tandem. You are dying to hear her make that noise again so you swipe your tongue upwards once more, this time teasing at her clitoral hood. Her hips buck and you hear the headboard creak under her grip. When you latch your mouth onto her cunt, she gasps so hard she almost chokes. Exposing her clit you wrap your lips around her and suckle at the bud.

“Fuck, baby,” she whines from above you, and your grip on her hips tightens. “That’s it, don’t stop.”

So you don’t.

Your face is a dripping mess as you continue to suck at her clit, pausing every once in a while to drag your tongue through her. You can tell she’s trying her hardest to remain in this position, her thighs shaking with the effort. When you bring her hips down lower onto your mouth, you groan into her folds and she whimpers. Gently, you probe your tongue inside of her and she lets out a loud moan that makes your clit throb. As you fuck her with your mouth her hips begin shifting. She’s riding your face as delicately as she can but when you latch yourself onto her clit again her bucks become fiercer. She’s chanting your name as you moan against her cunt, sliding one hand in your hair to pull at it. Her body is tensing - you know her end is coming - so your assault becomes vicious, wanting desperately to see her come undone.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she pants, “I’m gonna cum, baby. Ah–ah–I’m gonna–”

Cirrus climaxes with a high pitched drawn out moan, and you continue licking and sucking at her. Her body twists and contorts above your head as you hold her firmly against your mouth. After several moments, she murmurs your name and you reluctantly release her from your grasp. When she moves off of you and settles in between your legs, she gazes at you adoringly. You’re a mess - covered in her slick from the nose down - and you lick your lips as you look at her.

“You,” she breathes, and you let your lips slip into a smile. You’re practically glowing with pride and she beams back at you while stroking the insides of your thighs.

“You’ve more than earned your reward, my pet,” she says, nuzzling your mound. When she finally spreads your legs, a litany of “thank yous” fall from your lips. Just as she did, you cry out when her mouth slides over your clit and she wastes no time in drawing your pleasure from you. She hums against your cunt as she slides one finger, then two in between your folds and begins fucking you intently. Cirrus isn’t here to tease you any more - she’s on a mission - and she’s ruthless. You’ve got your fingers buried in her hair, thumbs caressing the base of her horns, as she pistons her fingers inside you at a staggering rate. 

“Cirrus,” you keen, all formalities forgotten, “Cirrus, honey, don’t stop.”

When you reach your climax you feel it from head to toe, building at the base of your spine and spreading to all your extremities. You cry out her name again and again and she continues fucking you through your orgasm. Your body is limp and twitching and she’s still going until you finally beg for her to stop. Now her face is covered in your juices as she leans back and removes her bra, finally exposing all of herself to you. Arousal twitches slightly in your gut as you view her bare breasts, but ultimately nothing comes of it as she snuggles against you.

“Goddamn,” you breathe and she smiles against your shoulder.

“You good?” she asks, reaching up to pet your still-damp hair.

“You could say that,” you grin, turning on your side to face her. She looks beautiful, her cheeks just as flushed at yours. And just as sticky. When you move to get up to grab a wet rag she frowns and drags you back down, wrapping her arm around your body and bringing you close.

“You smell like me,” she says, inhaling deep at your scalp.

“Yeah, I’m covered in your pussy juice,” you say wryly, which makes her laugh out loud. The sound makes your heart ache and you rest a palm on her cheek.

“Thank you for this,” you murmur quietly. She leans in to give you the only kiss of the night you’ve had, and it’s so terribly soft. She’s purring as she pulls away from you.

“You make a good pet,” she says with a little half-grin. “Think I might keep you,”

That wouldn’t be so bad.

[justmeinadaze]

Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is that idea I told y'all about when my PTSD was really bad last week. I actually liked writing some of this out <3. It did help a bit. I wish I had them and a Red to help me through those rough days.

I did set this after the events of Season 4 so slight spoilers involving Max mostly. Im kind of excited to explore a bit more of Steve's PTSD involving the show. I did it a bit here. I also chose to utilize my own trauma as the readers trauma. I'll delve a bit more in the warnings.

Anyone struggling with their mental health, you are not alone <3. You're feelings are valid and we just have to take things one day at a time. I love you :)

Warnings: Steddie X Fem Reader, No smut yet, Fluff with the reader trying to make them feel better and vice versa. Angst, trauma involving the show is mentioned especially with Steve's feelings of what happened to Max, mentions of Eddie being blamed and the town treating him like trash, he does talk about his abuse as a child very briefly as does the reader. No details are mentioned just that it happened. Reader has a panic attack that the boys help her through.

I do expand on symptoms of PTSD and how the reader feels. Symptoms of mental health can be different for everyone so I focused more on what I experience with my own PTSD. As I progress in the chapters and she becomes more open with them I will most likely talk about things that happened to me. I didn't want to generalize what she was going through mostly because its hard. PTSD and trauma are complicated in it of its self so...

Word Count: 5314

You had been coming to this group for years because of your mental health. Your doctor suggested it stating that it might help you to hear from other people going through the same thing you were. Truth be told it never worked. The other people in this post traumatic stress support group were mostly military vets or officers who had just moved to Hawkins to “get away from the chaos.” You imagined it was a quite a shock for them when the earthquake hit…

While a lot of their symptoms and aftermath stories were similar to yours, you struggled to connect. If anything, you felt more alone. So why did you keep coming back?

Routine, maybe. Or the need to have any kind of human contact since you spend the bulk of your time by yourself at home. Hell, you even worked from home so the only living thing you interacted with on a daily basis was your service dog, Ren. You rarely ever spoke in group, choosing to sit there and listen to the other people speak. 

Since the earthquake, however, more people had joined to your dismay. Most of the citizens that came in took up most of the time talking about the event and how scared they were about what happened. You tried not to let the disgust show on your face when they spoke, understanding that everyone experiences things differently but they didn’t really know. 

They didn’t know what it was like to spend years replaying an event in your head even when you’re asleep. To have those moments where something that would be random to someone else meant something significant to you triggering a panic attack that knocked you on your ass for the rest of the day. They didn’t know what it was like to be so scared to even go to the fucking grocery store to get essentials without the fear that everyone is talking about you and judging you because you’ve been standing in front of the canned goods for a little bit too long wondering if you buy this will you actually eat it or will it just sit there for months at a time because some days you don’t feel like eating. 

Your PTSD consumed a lot of your life for most of your life whereas these people were just now stepping into it and were most likely going to step right back out. After a few months, you were correct. All those citizens gradually stopped coming in till it was just the regular survivors once again. 

After grabbing some coffee, you and Ren sat in your usual spot, waiting for the meeting to start. The dog grabbed your attention when he whined and without warning placed his head on the stranger beside you. 

“Oh. Hey, buddy.”, he coos as his big hand reaches down to pet his head. 

“I’m sorry. He probably senses your anxiety.”

“Well shit. He’s not wrong. I’m not really good at any of this.”, he gestures around the room. “But some of my friends insisted we come so…”

“We?”

“Yeah, um…” The boy’s eyes glance up towards someone headed for the seat next to him and it takes you a moment to realize everyone else’s eyes on him as well. 

You recognized his face immediately, Edward Munson. The metalhead had been accused of being a satanic worshipper who murdered a bunch of teens a few months ago. He had been cleared of those charges thanks to the help of the old police chief, some detective journalism by Nancy Wheeler, and his friend… “Steve Harrington?”

“That’s me. Do I know you? My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“She had school with us and graduated along with you, Harrington.”, Eddie sighed as he folded his arms.

“Oh. I’m sorry. What was your name?”

“You look different.”, you blurted before turning away from him and closing your eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry. Sometimes…my mouth moves before…before my brain catches up.”

Ren senses your heightened anxiety and places himself between your legs so you can pet his head, down his back. 

“Alright everyone, let’s get started.”, the overly cheery coordinator grins as he sits down and crosses his legs. While glancing at his clipboard, he addresses the circle. “Does anyone have anything they’d like to share before we get going?”

“Why is he here?”, someone sneers as they point towards the metalhead. 

“He should be in a cell not in group therapy.”, says another.

“Hey now. Mr. Munson is entitled to care just like everyone else and I expect you guys to treat him with the same respect we do everyone else. If that’s going to be a problem, I completely understand, feel free to leave and meet us at our other scheduled time on Thursday.”

Half the people in the room stood up and walked out, the last person slamming the door of the room for emphasis. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve pat his back comfortingly as Eddie lets out a deep, heartbroken sigh.

“Would either of you like to introduce yourself to the rest of the group?” 

The metalhead continued to glare forward as Steve spoke up. “As some of you may know, I’m Steve Harrington and this is my friend Eddie. Our other friend Robin suggested we try this since we, uh, we’ve been having some trouble lately.”

“Good, very good. Nice to meet you both. This is a safe space so please feel free to be open here.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s, uh, let’s continue down the line here. Y/N? Do you feel like talking? I see Ren is on duty today. Something you’re anxious about?”

“Everything.” The man chuckles as people around the room nod in agreement. “I’m ok today, thanks.” 

The remainder of the meeting goes by smoothly without any incident and as it ends everyone rises to leave except the two people next to you. They expect you to leave as well but when you stand, instead of heading for the door you place yourself next to Eddie. He doesn’t move or make any gestures to acknowledge your presence and you’re ok with that. You aren’t really one for small talk or anything like that but something about his demeanor gave you a gut feeling that you decided to expand on. 

Your therapist was always preaching about learning to trust your gut and positive self-talk making your eyes roll every time. 

“Um, this is Ren. He’s a service lab for me because I, uh, I get shaky and anxious really easily. He can sense when I’m nervous or about to have an attack so he helps ground me. I can just pet him or he’ll let me hold him. At home, he’s trained to bring me my medication.”

Steve watches you speak, seemingly trying to get a read on you while Eddie continues to stare straight ahead. You can tell he’s listening though because his head tilted ever so slightly towards you as you began explaining things. Personally, he was so ecstatic to hear a stranger talk calmly with him but he couldn’t display that for fear of ruining the moment or worse, it being a lie.

“Do…do you want to pet him?” 

His head finally whips around to look at you as his eyes scan yours. Swallowing nervously, he sat up straighter, rolling his eyes in faux frustration as his palm reached out to pet the dog’s head. 

“Why Ren? How did you come up with that?”, Steve asked.

“The morning before I got him, I saw Footloose at the cinema. I like Kevin Bacon’s character and his name was Ren. Do you want to see something cute?” Without waiting for an answer, you stood in front of them and motioned for the lab to stand in front of you. Holding out your hands, you sang the Footloose theme song and he jumped up to place his paws in your hands to dance with you.

Both men smiled and you knew you’d never be able to explain why but it comforted you. 

“I, um, I know this town can be full of assholes but I hope you do come back next week. Craig, the coordinator, will take care of you. He’s a little quirky but he’s nice.”

Again, you don’t wait for an answer as you gather your things and Ren before heading out the door. 

****

When Steve got home that night, he immediately went on the hunt for his yearbook. 

“What are you doing, man?”, Eddie whined as he threw himself on the bed. 

“Looking for my yearbook. I’m surprised I don’t remember her. The guy said Y/N, do you remember her last name?”

Of course, he did. When you were in school together, he had a few classes with you especially English. Junior year you wrote a story that the teacher made you read in front of the class about a girl who was hiding in a forest behind a tree as she watched two monsters argue about how they were going to eat her when they found her. The other kids thought you were weird but he identified with it; picturing his parents fighting as you read.

Eddie never found the courage to speak to you but he was always your hidden knight, watching over you. One of the party boys had talked about how they fucked you and how much of a freak you were so he slashed the kids tires and spray painted “Asshole” in big, bold letters on his car. You probably didn’t remember but on valentine’s day he had slipped a note in your locker that was a drawing of you battling your monsters you had written about. 

“No. Come on, Harrington. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re going back anyway.”

Steve paused his search as he sat down and crossed his legs. “Why wouldn’t we go back?”

“I don’t know if you noticed but people weren’t exactly excited I was there.”

“Fuck those people. At least one person was excited. Two if you count the dog.”

“Yeah sure. Let ruin that by bringing her into our shit. Plus, it’s not like we can tell anyone or talk about what really happened.”

Steve sighed as he got up to sit beside him. “Ed, first off, there isn’t shit to bring her into. Vecna’s dead; we killed him. Secondly, we don’t have to talk about what happened…just what happens after.”

“Really? You want to play that game, Steven? He may be dead but we still got shit. Max is still in a coma, Dustin is still struggling, the town is quite literally cut in half, and ALL of us still have fucking nightmares with all that other fun post traumatic shit. Things are still so out of whack we haven’t even told our friends about us yet.”

“They have enough on their plates.”

“Exactly. So, I reiterate, why do you want to bring this girl into our chaos?”

The man sighs again as he hangs his head making Eddie feel a little guilty as he leans his head on his shoulder while reaching for his hand.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about her that makes me feel comfortable and safe.”

###########

“You came back.”

“Yeah, it took some convincing but…”, Steve grinned. “Hey Ren. May I?”, he asked before petting the lab when you nodded. 

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?”

The metalhead softly smiles at you as he tilts his head in your direction. When the meeting begins you can already feel that the energy is different. One of the regulars is extremely agitated today as his leg bounces and he folds his arms. As soon as Craig reaches him, he shouts his problem as he struggles to control the volume of his voice. Your eyes close as you try to stay present and remind yourself that your safe.

No, no, no. Please. I can’t have a panic attack here in front of all these people. Everyone will look at me. They’ll think I’m weak. No, no, no.

“Y/N?”, the coordinator calls your name and you fold into yourself. “Y/N, you’re ok. You’re safe.”

Ren places his front paws on your knees as he rests his head on your shoulder. You couldn’t do this, pushing him back as you stumbled out the door into the hallway before sinking to the floor.

Your service dog continued to do what it was trained to do as he ran after you and laid beside you in your arms. The sound of your bag and a bottle of water being placed beside you startled you but you couldn’t move to acknowledge it.

You felt your head being lifted and placed on something relatively soft as you continued to try and calm down. It took a few moments but once you felt like you could breathe you opened your teary eyes to see Eddie looking towards the window.

“Hey, hey, take your time.”, Steve soothed in a soft tone when you tried to sit up. “I grabbed your bag and some water. Do you need your meds or anything?”

“C-C-Can you help me?”, you asked as you reached your arms back to try and push yourself to a sitting position. He leaned over to help you adjust as you laid against the wall with your head on the metalhead’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t want you laying your head on the hard floor. I hope that was ok.”, Eddie tenderly grinned. 

You nodded, watching heavily as Ren dug his snout in your purse before producing your medicine and placing it on your lap. 

“Good boy. Steve, in there is his treats. Can you give him one?”

He smiled as he did what you asked and your dog wagged his tail happily. 

“Do you need help?”, Eddie whispered.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Without saying a word, he grabbed the meds from you lap and opened the bottle, shaking one into his hand and popping it closed. He placed the pill near your mouth and your eyes met his as you slowly opened, allowing him to place it on your tongue before holding the edge of the water to your lips and tipping it back. 

“You’re not any trouble. I…we…appreciate you being as kind as you have been to us.”

As he extended his arm to place everything back in its proper place, his jacket sleeve slid up and you noticed some slight scaring around his wrist. When he felt your eyes on him, he followed your glance, quickly covering it up as he leaned back. 

“Thank you for coming out here. You didn’t have to. I struggle with aggressiveness like what Jeremy did in there.”

“Is that not normal for him?”

“Usually, no but I imagine this earthquake and the aftermath hasn’t helped him with his flashbacks.”

“How has it been for you?”, Steve asked.

“Um, not to chaotic. I had a harder time a few months prior when this town was going crazy and playing police officers like they were the law or something. Oh shit. Eddie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—”

“No worries, sweetheart. I’m used to it now; the stares, gossip, and questions.”

“Should you be?”

His eyes met yours again before quickly looking away as the door to the group area opened and people filed out. The man who had been yelling came over to where you were sitting and apologized in a much more gentle tone then he had previously. After accepting it and smiling towards him, you slowly wobbled to your feet with Steve helping to guide you.

“Are you ok to drive? We can take you home if you’d like.”

“No, I’m alright. I just need to eat something and get a little energy back.”

“Would you like to have dinner with us?”, Eddie offered carefully.

“Sure.”

***

As the three of you entered the restaurant, your eyes darted around as your brain did its regular anxiety check. You made sure to clock where all the exits were and how to get to them, scanned the current patrons to make sure no one was someone who would hurt you, and marked which seat you would prefer to be in just in case you needed to run. 

When you glanced towards Steve, you blinked back surprise when you realized he was doing the same thing. 

“I have to leave, Harrington, but get it to go and we can eat in my van. If that’s ok with you.”

You nodded, panicking slightly as he walked back out the door, unsure of what he was hiding from. To avoid another episode, you did the same leaving the other man to order. When you made it outside you found Eddie in the driver’s seat smoking a cigarette, his eyes darting to you when you climbed into the passenger’s side. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I saw Jason’s parent’s eating at a table so…”

“I never thought you killed those kids.” As soon as the words blurted out, your eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Finger reached out to touch your arm causing your eyes to open again, meeting his kind chocolate-colored ones. 

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

When you apologize again, both of you let out a breathy, genuine laugh. 

“When I saw on the news what happened to Chrissy, I knew you couldn’t have done it. Yeah, you were always loud in school but you were also really sweet… at least from what I remember.”

You two jumped when Steve opened the back of the van and threw himself in. “Eddie, go.”

Without any hesitation, he started to put the vehicle in gear but he wasn’t fast enough as Jason’s father appeared by his window and aggressively knocked on the glass. 

“Where do you think you’re going, freak?! You’re the reason my son and his girlfriend are dead!”

“Go, Eddie!”, Steve commanded.

The metalhead slammed his foot on the gas and sped off with the man shouting behind him. The rest of the ride was silent until he parked near the hill that surveyed the town. You watched as he continued to grip the wheel like a lifeline as his chest rose and fell. You wanted to help but you didn’t know exactly how. They only thing you could think of was to grab his palm and place it on Ren’s head. The dog was used to limp pets as Eddie’s hand lazily fell down his back but he promptly rested his head on his lap as you praised him. 

Steve leaned over the seat and placed his arms around him as he whispered things in his ear furthest from you. After a few moments his hand began to move against Ren’s fur making the dog’s tail wag as the other boy released him from his hold. 

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

############

It was actually the perfect evening for eating outside. The van doors remained open as the three of you munched on your meals in the back. From this spot Hawkins looked different; less chaotic than it was.

While you guys ate you casually talked about yourself. They told you some general things about themselves and you did the same. Even though you felt safe with them you didn’t want to bombard them too much with the mess that was your life. You felt like they were holding back as well, omitting certain information they were afraid to tell.

“You can work from home, you know?”, you mentioned after Eddie brought up how hard it was to find a job because of who he was. “That’s what I do.”

“I could do that.”

“Wouldn’t that be hard for you, Ed? You’re very talkative and outgoing. Don’t you like thrive off of people or some shit.”

“Thrive off of people… No, Harrington. I’m not a vampire.” They grinned at each other when you giggled. “I mean it wouldn’t be much different. Everyone already thought I was a freak beforehand. Now I’m just a murdering freak.”

Everyone went silent as the metalhead turned away to glare outside. 

“You should stop saying things like that.”, you murmur. 

“It’s how they feel.”, he shrugs.

“Who cares how they feel. What matters is how you feel and the truth. You didn’t do it so stop saying it.” Eddie’s eyes jerked towards you as your tone got more agitated.

“Yeah, well, what would you know?”

“Eddie, stop it.”, Steve warned.

“It’s ok, Steve. I can handle this. I’m mentally ill not weak.”

“No one said you were weak, Y/N.”

“What makes you so confident I didn’t do it, hm? You weren’t there. Maybe I did.”

“Eddie…”

“No, Harrington. I’m curious. What makes her so confident? I have to know because besides my friends and my uncle you are the only person in this town who believes I didn’t do some satanic ritual to murder Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Jason. That I didn’t hurt Max to cause that fucking earthquake. Why?”

Steve angerly threw the water bottle he was drinking from hard against the inside of the van making you jump.

“Jesus Christ. Are you fucking kidding me, Ed?! We finally find one person who believes the truth and you have to fucking question it! Who gives a fuck why she believes you! Just embrace it.”

He crawls out of the vehicle and begins to pace as he lets off steam. Ren puts his head on your lap and you pet him as you watch Eddie climb out as well and hug the boy from behind, resting his cheek on his back. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you.”, Steve apologized without looking your way. 

“You didn’t. I…I feel safe with you, both of you. That’s why I believe you. I can’t explain it, Eddie. I wish I could. My therapist says that because of my trauma I had to learn how to read people so I could protect myself and prepare just in case. You two…I just don’t get this vibe that I need to be afraid of you.”

“Like a superpower?”, the metalhead grins softly as he comes to sit back beside you. 

“You could say that.”, you giggle and his heart melts. Abruptly, you lean over and wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling his body stiffen only for a moment before fully accepting it. “You’re a good person Edward Munson.”

Steve watches you both as he stands in front of you, also taken aback when you turn your love towards him by hugging him to, circling your arms around his lower back.

“You to, Steve Harrington.”

****

The following week you were happy to see they attended group again and seemed so much lighter than they had the other times they had come. As the meeting started, once again you felt that shift in energy. 

“Y/N, I know you don’t talk much here and that’s absolutely fine. I was hoping maybe we could talk about what happened last week.”

“Oh, um, I don’t want to make Jeremy feel bad.”

“I’m ok. I want you to talk about it. It helps me understand…”

You gnaw on your bottom lip at his answer as Craig looks at you with earnest eyes. “I, um, he got aggressive and I panicked.”

“He did get verbally confrontational. Was it the yelling or what he was saying that triggered you?”

“The…yelling doesn’t…doesn’t really bother me or what is said. It…how it was being said.”

“Huh. Interesting. Please, go on.”

“My mom…was always kind of…forceful with her words…”

You don’t see it but both the boy’s protective modes had kicked in beside you especially Steve’s. It takes all his energy not to comfort you in some way. Yesterday, you had hugged him and Eddie but you three had been alone. Right now, you were in room full of people and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He settled for casually extending his legs a bit so his knee was just barely touching your own. 

“I don’t want to talk anymore if that’s ok.”

“That’s fine, Y/N. How about you Steve? I noticed you and Eddie got up pretty quickly to make sure she was okay. I’m sure she appreciates that. Are you usually the protector of your friend group?”

He smirks slightly. “They would probably say I’m more like the babysitter.”

“That’s funny.”, the coordinator laughs. “I have seen you around town with some of the younger kids like Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler. You and Mr. Munson there.”

“How’s Max Mayfield doing?” Both their heads shot up to look towards the member that asked the question. “Is she doing any better? I heard her mom is wreck.”

“Jackie, you know the rules. We don’t gossip in here.”, Craig scolds. 

“I’m not gossiping! Max was dating that Sinclair boy, right? Who hangs out with Michael and Dustin who apparently hang out with them so…I just want to know.”

Ren, who had been laying on the floor by your feet, suddenly sat up and waddled between Steve’s legs before lifting himself up so his head was on the man’s shoulder.

“Hug him.”, you whisper as you reach out to rub the boy’s back.

Slowly, he wraps his arms around him and pets the dog’s head. “Good boy.”

“Let’s, uh, Let’s move on to someone else.”

As the coordinator began talking to another person, Steve got up to leave as you and Eddie followed behind. Unlike you, instead of sitting in the hall, he continued to the parking lot towards his BMW. 

“Steve, wait. Wait a second!”, the metalhead called to him trying to keep up.

“I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

“If you’re fine then why are we leaving?”

“Because I know they are going to ask about her again and I don’t want to hear it so…”, he aggressively gestures towards the car. 

“Isn’t that the point of this therapy group bullshit? To talk or whatever the fuck you said. This was your idea. You can’t just drag us here and then leave when it gets hard.”

“Ok, well, you know what? You were right, okay? We can’t talk about what happened so—”

“But they aren’t asking what happened. They are asking how she is. They already think they know what happened.”

“Fine! Fine, Eddie! Let’s go back in there and answer her question! ‘Oh yeah, Jackie, Max is fine. Just all of her limbs are broken and she’s in a fucking coma but hey the doctors say she’s not brain dead! Always a silver lining!’”

“Steve…what happened to her wasn’t your fault.”

“Fuck this. I’ll walk home.”

The metalhead ran in front of him, trying to block him with his body. “What happened to her, me, Dustin, and Lucas wasn’t your fault. You killed him. You, Nancy, and Robin saved us all but you’re not fucking superman, babe. You can’t be everywhere at once and can’t protect everyone.”

Steve’s head hung and they clung to each other as Eddie embraced him. When they disconnected, they were almost startled by your presence, forgetting you were there entirely. 

“Hey, um, before my brain glitches, I drew you something last night.” Eddie digs in his pocket and hands you a folded piece of paper. 

When you open it fully, you softly smile at the image of you in boots and a superhero style outfit with your palm in the air as a zig-zag force field surrounded you. Next to you was Ren with his tongue hanging out and mask over his eyes. At the top was bold 3D lettering that read “LADY EMPATHY” with smaller print underneath; “Senses Emotions and helps heal the innocent with her trustee four-legged side kick Anti-Depressant.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but you loved it. No one had ever done something nice like this for you except that one time someone slide a drawing into your locker.

Your eyes met his as a light bulb went off in your head. 

“Do you two want to come over to my house? We can hang out and eat some food. I would like to show you something.”

Eddie glanced at Steve who nodded his approval. 

“Ok. Sounds like fun.”

****

“Wow, this place is really nice.”, Steve muses as he looks around. 

“Thank you. I don’t have much but I don’t need too much so…”, you shrug as you watch them move around. 

“You seem to like a lot of movies, huh?” Eddie walks around looking at your posters hanging on the wall. 

“I do especially the fantasy ones. It’s nice to hide from reality in movies like The Never Ending Story or Dragon Slayer. I can’t wait for Labyrinth to come out. You know that new Bowie movie?”

The metalhead chuckles when Steve shrugs. “He doesn’t know who that is, sweetheart. Steve isn’t exactly well versed in most media.”

Your eyes widen as you head towards your sound system and push in a cassette. “Let’s Dance” flows through the speakers and he bobs his head he listens. “Pretty cool.”

Eddie laughs harder when you playfully sigh as his musical ignorance. “Yeah. Welcome to my world. What did you want to show us?”

After disappearing into your room, you come back with a frame in your arms, the image facing your body. 

“When I was in high school, I was pretty good at being invisible but sometimes I wasn’t so lucky. The jocks would pick on me a lot and pretty girls like Tammy Thompson would make my life hell.” Steve sighed praying that he wasn’t one of the people who hurt you. “That was nothing compared to what I was dealing with at home. My parents…they, um, they weren’t nice with each other and sometimes…my mother would take that out on me.”

“I always loved English class because I could write about what I was feeling. One day a teacher had asked me to read something I wrote in front of everyone. I told him no but he insisted and as I stood there, I could hear people snickering. It was awful; I hate talking in front of people. But anyway, a few days later, I found this in my locker.”

You turned the frame around to display the image Eddie had drawn for you as you slowly moved toward him. 

“You have no idea what this did for me. In a world full of people where I felt like no one cared, this showed me someone was listening. Someone out there did care…at least enough to take the time to draw this and give it to me.”

Eddie’s eyes met yours as he spoke. “I related to it, your story about the monsters and the kid hiding. My father used to scream at my mother until it escalated. I would always hide in my room hoping I wasn’t next.” Steve came over to stand next to him and rub his back comfortingly. “Turns out I can’t fight any monsters, can I, Stevie?”

The boy growled under his breath as his hand fell. 

“You were always amazing to me. You seemed so smart and strong; I was so afraid to talk to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your story so I drew that and slid it into your locker.”

“So…my superpower works? I was right about you. You are a good person.” You smile when he smirks in your direction. “You guys can talk to me…about anything. I won’t judge you or hurt you or anything. I trust you and I hope that you can trust me.”

They glance at each other and you see the hesitation in their look. They a definitely holding something back but you pray that one day they’ll feel comfortable enough to let you in. Little did you know, the massive secrets they could tell.

[darkmajesty-xo]

up way past my bedtime and the urge to play in Katsuki’s ass is high. don’t judge me too harshly because “the freaks come out at night” or whatever the old folks say

18+ MDNI| tw! prohero!bkg , erotic massage, anal fingering , rimming , dubcon if you squint i suppose

bakugo didn’t really know what to expect when he booked your services.

he’d been having a rough few weeks with villain attacks and pr issues leaving him extremely stressed and irritable. deku suggested that he give you a call, stating that he’s a regular customer and you often help him unwind. he also emphasized how discreet you were; which was a plus for katsuki cause he valued his privacy.

you did in house visits, which was convenient because he didn’t have to worry about extras recognizing him and asking for autographs.

a makeshift massage parlor, fully stocked with various oils, scented candles and ambient music, was set up in his living room thanks to your compartmentalization quirk. it all looked very professional, you even wore white scrubs to top it all off.

he was a bit skeptical when you asked him to undress and lie facedown, hating to be in such a vulnerable position, but you endured that it was all apart of the “process”.

doubt started to creep from his mind when he first felt your fingers graze his back. his muscles tensed and flexed at your touch. he sighed softly as you worked the corded muscle of his upper back with your palm.

you massaged down to his tailbone, being sure to pay extra attention to his previously identified problem areas. then you went down to his feet, working your fingers through his toes and up his calves then thighs before your were palming the globes of his ass.

it was unexpected but he allowed you to call continue your ministrations without interrupting until he felt his cheeks part and your finger slide up the crack of his ass.

“oi! whaddya’—

“just relax, mr. dynamight. it’s all apart of the process”.

he wanted to object but then he felt something cool and wet teasing his hole.

bakugo blushed a fearsome red as your tongue slithered against his asshole. it felt weird but oddly satisfying. you glided over the puckered rim, dipping in ever so often. a full shiver ran down his spine when you spit on his asshole and sucked it back up.

“how are you feeling, mr. dynamight”?

“s��good. so fuckin’ good”.

you hummed in satisfaction, bobbing your head up and down to thrust in his cute pink hole. he was dangerously close to cumming when you pulled away. he whined at the loss of contact but it was short lived. soon he felt something firmer prodding at his rear entrance.

it was a tight fit but with the help of the massage oil your finger glided effortlessly in and out of his puckered rim. you swirled the digit around his walls, paying attention to all the spots that had him bucking into the massage.

katsuki back arched lewdly when you added another finger. you smacked the supple fat of his pale cheeks while your fingers fucked into him. you continuously spanked him, enjoying the way the skin darkened under your palm.

the wet schlick of katsuki’s sloppy hole filled the room. your fingers slammed into his prostate over and over. when you curled your fingers just right he finally blew his load all over the table.

he hated to admit it but that fucking deku was right— he felt so fucking relaxed. he’d be sure to give a good tip.

[mallowstep]

Hii! Previous shipping discourse anon here after doing some Thinking(tm). I think the problem that people see in proshippers is not that it *is* dark or deals with sensitive topics, but that's its weirdly...fetish-y? Like, there's a specific breed of anti that I don't like that's that's kaeluc antis(basically, sworn bros v adopted bros)(because their entire argument is a bit sinophobic) but there are ppl who will go out of their way to make them adopted bros anyway so. You can Tell it's a fetish

Oh man I vaguely remember when we were talking about kaeluc on here. Still know Nothing about it but I remember it (for some reason) came up.

…or I read about it on another blog?

Whatever. More to the point.

I’m a strong defender of “it’s cool to like dark fiction just because you enjoy it.” I don’t think anyone needs a justification. We don’t demand people explain why they like watching action movies with blood and death, do we?

But also I know exactly what you mean. Like. Eurgh. I am way too tired to explain my very complex thoughts about human sexuality. But for one thing, adopted siblings falling in love is like. A really old trope. Do I like it? No. Is it a thing? For some reason! (S/o to Cassandra Claire for letting me accidentally read her weird incest fantasy books.) But okay, I think I can say…

There are people who write things purely for porn purposes. I try not to judge those too much, with a few exceptions, mostly what I referenced earlier.

Then there are people exploring themes etc. Which is like. That’s what I do. Actually it’s funny that you used that example because one of my fic ideas includes the line “Why do I want to call you my brother when we’re having sex?” (It’s a joke in context, but explaining that context is beyond the point.) So like yeah they are generally speaking fine in my book.

And then there’s the middle ground where things get murky. It’s clearly not someone just writing something for the purposes of getting off, but it’s also not a sincere exploration. It’s…yeah, it’s something else.

I’m too tired to really wrap this up. Lemme try anyway.

I think a lot of people…okay, this goes back in part to media literacy, but there’s also some current cultural factors here, but a lot of people struggle to separate their intrinsic disgust from actual risk. It’s like — there was a spider living in my bathroom for a while. It kind of terrified me at first but the spider is just chilling. The spider is not an actual harm to me.

And as an author, sometimes I just want to make people feel revulsed and disgusted. God knows I’m familiar enough with the feeling.

Okay I am literally falling asleep as I type. Hopefully this makes sense? I am so exhausted, it’s been a Rough Ass Week in ya boy.

Maybe like. In reference to my previous comment on Lolita, I want people to understand the disgust they feel in response is part of the stories. Stories are meant to be felt. Sometimes horror is part of the feeling.

Oh my god I cannot keep my eyes open why did I think this was a good idea.

I really don’t have a label in the discourse. I don’t care what I am labeled as, so as long as it doesn’t involve misinformation.

K that’s all for tonight but I’ll check my inbox for you in the morning nonnie

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 70 (part one)

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 62-69 here

***

51. "Fuck, I need/want you so bad."

85. "Th-There are people outside this door--" "Well, this isn't about them, is it?"

145. "Shit, I'm so fucking hooked on you it's not even funny."

148. “Don’t make too many noises or we’ll get caught.” “That’s part of the thrill."

***

A muffled giggle and the sound of a phone camera jarred him to wakefulness, though he kept his eyes closed and muscles relaxed out of habit until he realized where he was.

Blinking his eyes open, he whispered, “Cass?”

His older sister stood on the low bench next to Damian’s bed, phone in hand. Her dark eyes danced with mischief.

Shit. He'd probably slept through most of the morning, then. Tim carefully angled himself up to a sitting position, pressed his finger to his lips, and tiptoed out with Cass following closely behind. Once the door clicked shut behind them, he turned to her. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “Duke and I have a lunch date, and we decided to meet here first. But also I heard what Dick said on comms last night. Wanted to check on Damian. I didn’t expect to see you in his bed.” She paused, long enough that the heat crawling up Tim’s face made it all the way to his hairline. “Though maybe I should have.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to be in his bed, so I don’t know how you could’ve,” Tim replied with perfect honesty. His shoes were just outside the door, so he grabbed them off the floor. He checked his pockets, realized he’d left his wallet and keys in the car, and started heading for the front door. 

Cass followed once more. “Hey. Little brother. Do you really think you’re fooling me?”

Tim stopped in his tracks and tilted his head up toward the ceiling, blowing out a defeated sigh. “What do you mean,” he said tonelessly.

She moved to stand next to him and bumped his shoulder with her own. “I mean the fact that you two have had sex and now you don’t know what to do with him. Your entire body’s screaming about it. I wouldn’t have expected you to be so upset.”

Tim snorted in derision. “Why wouldn’t I be upset about it?” He started for the stairs again while she easily paced him. “It was a stupid thing to do and now it’s biting me in the ass every day.”

“I’m pretty sure biting you in the ass is what Damian would like to do every day. But that’s none of my business.” She gave Tim an angelic smile in response to his outraged glare. 

Tim cartwheeled down the stairs to give himself an out from the conversation, but she followed, sliding down the bannister on her stockinged feet. They arrived at the ground floor in the same moment. Tim dashed for the door, but Cass beat him there and stood with her back pressed to the wood, covering the doorknob.

The playful gleam in her eyes faded as he stood there, shoulders slumped, avoiding her gaze. “Tim. I’m worried about you.”

“I know, I know, it was a huge mistake and I’ll—"

She interrupted with a confused twist of her mouth. “No, I’m not saying that it was a mistake. That’s not something I can tell from body language. But every time I’ve seen you for the past several weeks, you’ve been moving like you were shot in the gut and you're scared it'll happen again.” She took a breath, then continued with deliberation, “And Damian moves like he’s been stabbed in his heart and the knife is still stuck in his chest. If you’re hurting each other, that is my business.”

“Damian isn't hurting me.” Tim stared at his shoes, still clutched in one hand. “I don't know where that's coming from.”

“But you are hurting him?”

He shrugged, shame closing his throat too tightly to let words escape.

Realization dawned on her face, and with it, concern. "You're hurting him and yourself. Don't do that.” She darted forward and pulled him into an embrace. “Don't hurt yourself.”

“I don't know what to do, Cass,” he croaked, letting himself lean into her wiry strength. Her head only came up to his chin but she was so powerful, one of the few people in his life who needed him not at all but wanted him all the same.

She tightened her arms around him until his ribs creaked, but the pressure felt good. Grounding. "Because you're scared. I get that."

"Yeah." His temples throbbed with the tears that wanted to form, but he fought them back. He wasn't a child, for God's sake.

"What if you weren't?" She stepped back to meet his gaze, and this time he didn't try to look away.

"What if I weren't scared? I guess then I wouldn't be in this mess."

She shook her head, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No. I mean, what would you do if you had no fear?"

"Oh." Tim thought about it. He was brave, but it was in spite of the fear he carried with him, not due to its lack. He could never be like Stephanie. "I don't know. It's hard to picture."

"Then pretend you're fearless. See what you would do." She jumped up and kissed his cheek. "I don't like to see my brothers sad. Fix it."

"Yes, ma'am." Tim gave her a mocking salute, and she grinned as she swung the door open to let him out.

***

For the rest of the week, Tim neither evaded Damian nor sought him out, but Damian avoided him. Tim couldn't blame him for that, but he hadn't realized how often Damian initiated contact between them until it stopped. The absence hurt.

Cass's question kept surfacing at the most inconvenient moments in his thoughts, while he was in the middle of a presentation, or when he was trying to fall asleep: What would you do if you had no fear?

On Friday night, he lay down on his couch again to figure it out once and for all. If he weren't afraid of Damian—

No. That wasn't fair. Tim wasn't afraid of Damian, not any longer. He was afraid of himself, of the power he had to wound whoever was reckless enough to want a relationship with him.

So. Pretend sick terror didn't flood every cell in his body each time he contemplated a real, actual relationship with the baby bat. Pretend he was brave like Steph. No need to figure out why, just figure out what he'd do in the absence of the fear.

Put like that, the answer was clear. He'd pursue Damian like he had everything else he'd really wanted. He'd work on earning Damian’s affection and trust, while allowing himself to acknowledge his own desire for the same. He would accept the possibility of failure while refusing to allow it to dictate his choices.

“Fine!” he groaned to no one, picking up his phone.

First, he texted, i hate u for being right all the time to Dick, then copied the message and sent it to Kon too, after deleting the all the time part. 

Next, he texted Damian. hey where are u rn

Almost immediately, Damian responded, I refuse to engage with you via text until you begin utilizing the punctuation skills of a first grader at least. 

A pause, then he added, I’m not far from your home. Currently I’m in the first course of a working dinner with some business partners from London and Father, and bored out of my mind with the inanity of the conversation.

Tim smiled involuntarily. Bruce had invited him to that one and he’d turned him down, so Damian must’ve been the backup plan.

Which restaurant?

Di Fratelli, in the Hotel Belle Monico.

Rolling to his feet, Tim headed for the bedroom. He had some dressing to do.

***

Every upscale restaurant in town was familiar with Bruce Wayne and his coterie of offspring both official and not, so when Tim walked into Di Fratelli the maitre d’ immediately asked, “Joining the Misters Wayne, sir?”

Tim nodded, and followed him to the semi-private area of the dining room where Bruce was charming the money out of a group of five men and women whose entire selves screamed Financial District. Damian was at least giving the appearance of paying attention, although the subtle curl of his lip gave away his true opinion of the proceedings. One of the women touched his arm and hand four times just while Tim was walking over. Damian glanced up and caught Tim’s gaze on her hand. His eyes widened the slightest bit.

Bruce’s casual expression changed to something with genuine warmth as he saw Tim approach. “Ah, here’s Tim! Hey, sport, didn’t think you’d be able to make it. Sit down!”

Tim accepted the extra chair the server offered him, but pulled it up next to Damian at the end of the table, separating him from the woman. Sitting down, he allowed his calf to press against Damian’s, following with his leg when the other would have pulled his own away. Even just that much contact felt so good. How could he have missed the fact that his whole body felt like it was spinning directionless in space until it grounded itself against Damian?

Directing his most charming smile around the table, he said, “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to touch base with some of our most important business partners, Bruce. Plus, the truffle ravioli here are to die for.”

He kept up the flow of conversation effortlessly during the meal, something that couldn’t be said of Damian, who stayed largely silent and startled almost visibly when Tim allowed his hand to rest casually on his thigh under the tablecloth. Tim allowed one corner of his mouth to pull up in amusement at the reaction. Damian would definitely notice that and seethe about it, but he also wasn’t doing anything to force Tim to remove his touch.

After an hour of business dealings under the guise of camaraderie, Damian excused himself. Tim gave him a full five minutes before looking into the middle distance and feigning surprise. “Oh, I see an old friend on the other side of the restaurant! Excuse me for a moment, please.”

Hands in his pockets, he wandered in the general direction of the restrooms, which also took him to the hotel proper through the inside entrance. He’d barely made it into the hall before a side door opened and Damian’s hand dragged him through it into a conference room with only a long table, video conferencing screen, and a dozen office chairs, plus a tiny dim lamp that currently provided the only light in the room.

Tim raised his eyebrows. “What’s up?”

Damian was scowling, but Tim could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Why are you here?”

Tim tilted his head in mock consideration. “Well, the food is really good.” Damian’s frown deepened. Right. Sincerity. “But also, I was worried. I don’t like the way we left things the last time you were at my place, and I haven’t seen you since you got hurt.”

With a shake of his head, Damian reached for the doorknob. “Save your worry for yourself. I’m fine.”

Without missing a beat, Tim grabbed his outstretched hand and threaded his fingers through Damian’s. “I’m not surprised to hear that. You’re an expert in carrying on even when wounded.”

Damian scoffed, but Tim noticed he made no attempt to free his hand. “Don’t flatter yourself. You couldn’t possibly wound me, any more than Faust did.”

“Bullshit.” With a tug at his fingers, Tim pulled Damian closer and wrapped his arm around his waist. “You didn’t deserve what I did.”

Damian’s other arm hung limp by his side. “I expected nothing else. The fault was mine, for being foolishly sentimental.”

Ouch. Tim winced into Damian’s jacket lapel. “No. And I’m sorry for teaching you to expect that from me.”

“Drake.” Damian pushed him back slightly by his shoulder, but kept his hand there after Tim had moved. “You haven’t honestly answered the question. Why are you here?”

“I didn’t want to wait to see you and apologize. I already let too long pass since the last time.” Tim shrugged. “That’s the honest truth.” He let the hand he still had on Damian’s torso slide down a couple inches, just inside the waistband of his pants. “And I missed touching you.”

Damian went still, eyes narrowing. Despite his hesitation, his hand moved over Tim’s arm in what looked like an unconscious caress. “What is this? What are you playing at?”

Tim couldn’t say he didn’t deserve the skepticism. And Damian definitely deserved more of an explanation, but that was complicated by the fact that Tim actually had no idea what he was doing here. He was just flying blind with no plan other than to get into Damian’s pants. 

“I’m not playing,” He settled for saying, and tugged Damian closer by a belt loop. “I told you a while ago that I didn't know what I wanted.” Damian nodded. “I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out. I really want to do this with you, as long as you do too.” 

Damian’s breathing started to pick up speed. He made one more attempt to pretend this wasn’t going to happen, but his entire body was leaning into Tim. “Th-there are people outside this door—”

“Well, this isn’t about them, is it?” Watching carefully for any objections, he moved his hand to Damian’s fly, palming his cock through the fabric.  He was already half-hard, and getting more so under Tim’s touch. With the hand not otherwise occupied, Tim slipped open the buttons of Damian’s shirt. He made an appreciative sound at the sight of his torso, still sporting the patterned marks he'd left. God. He was used to seeing beautiful bodies, since the superhero circuit rarely produced anything else, but Damian’s gorgeously human muscles and warm brown skin were next tier. 

Tim licked across his chest, one long swipe of his tongue. Damian moaned, loud and obscene, and Tim’s breath twisted in his throat at the sound. “Don’t make too many noises or we’ll get caught.”

Damian lifted a sardonic eyebrow that failed to hide his anticipation. “That’s part of the thrill. Right?” He backed up to the table and pulled Tim along with him. Sitting on its edge, he splayed his legs wide. 

Tim straddled one of his thighs so that his cock pressed hard into the thick muscle. “You’re not wrong about that. Fuck.” Angling up on his toes, he kissed Damian once, twice, three times. Tiny, light kisses meant to show liking rather than lust, though both were fighting for dominance in his chest at the moment. “I want you so bad.”

Damian’s only reply was to grab his ass with both hands and yank him closer so Tim’s leg was pressed to his erection too. Tim cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him more thoroughly. Slow, tender, like they had all the time in the world. Tension drained out of Damian’s shoulders as Tim sucked on his lower lip, gently drawing it between his teeth. He’d felt out of control for so long, but with Damian submitting to his touch without question, it felt like he’d gotten a little of it back again. He ground into Damian’s thigh, letting him feel how hard he was. “Shit, I’m so fucking hooked on you it’s not even funny.”

Damian’s face had gone intent with desire, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. He moved with Tim, their hips circling in a slow, steady rhythm that had them both panting for breath. “Drake—this is—so foolish.”

“Mm, see, you say that but I don’t see you trying to get away.” Tim wanted to strip him down entirely until every barrier between them had been discarded. He wanted to hold him so tightly that Damian couldn’t sense the distance between them. He wanted to make Damian feel so happy that he forgot how much Tim had hurt him, for a little while at least. He settled for hugging him closer, nuzzling his cheek and nipping his jaw. Liquid heat was seeping into his core, spreading from their points of contact in a viscous flow of want. “Dami. You feel amazing. Don’t wanna stop.”

“No.” Damian kissed him again, a little desperation bleeding into the pressure of his lips, the blunt pain of his nails digging into Tim’s skin through his clothes. “You aren’t allowed to stop. Finish what you’ve started.”

“Yeah.” Tim picked up the pace, the part of his mind that was always observing from the outside reminding him that Bruce was still sitting at that table and no doubt wondering where they’d both disappeared to. Damian pressed his face into Tim’s shoulder, breath coming out in labored sighs as their bodies slid together, the discomfort of their situation irrelevant in the face of their need. “C’mon, we gotta hurry.”

“I can do that,” Damian mumbled into his collar, sounding drunk. “If you don’t kill me like this first.”

Tim chuckled and kissed his ear. “No dying. Not till after I get you off, at least.” He angled on his toes and moaned as the pressure turned exactly right.  “Are you close?”

Damian nodded against his neck, whimpering. His grip tightened and loosened on Tim’s hips in the spasmodic fashion that always gave his approaching orgasm away. An overwhelming wave of fondness swamped Tim as he recognized the signs. “Here. Let me—" He unzipped Damian’s pants and pulled his cock free of his underwear just enough to duck and fit his mouth over the tip. 

Damian went immobile for a moment. His hands flew to Tim’s shoulders and seized them with painful pressure. Tim only had to wait a couple of seconds before come flooded his mouth. He swallowed fast and licked Damian clean while he twitched and made little noises of protest about the overstimulation.

Tim straightened again and efficiently put Damian’s cock away, pressing a last kiss to his mouth like a parent's final benediction to a band-aid. “Thank you,” he whispered against his lips, before adjusting his own erection to an angle better suited to public situations. “See you back out there.”

Damian said nothing for a second, clearly trying to catch up. Just before the door swung shut behind Tim, he heard, “Wait—"

In the restroom, Tim washed his hands and rinsed his mouth before popping a breath mint from the complimentary basket on the counter. His balls ached in protest, and he was dizzy from lack of blood making it to his head.

“Worth it,” he told his reflection with a grin, and headed back to the restaurant.

day 70 (part two) here

[the-invisible-queer]

How does a grown man beef with a child? Was it his daughter in the kitchen with your brother? Because if so that admittedly is a poor tactical choice.

And yes please give us all the decade old tea I bet it’s still good. Don’t even bother with pseudonyms if you don’t feel like it

OH BESTIE

Buckle the fuck UP and I'll drop initials so I don't get sued because the youth pastor is currently in a legal suit against his own father rn THE TEA IS PIPING

Our Characters:

Eddie - My older brother

R - Senior pastor

M - Youth pastor

M&M - M and his wife because they both suck and are one entity in one story

G - R's current wife

E- R's ex wife BUT NOT M'S MOM

JK - E & R's son

I've got 3 stories so it's long as fuck. There's aren't the only scandals just the main ones that have to deal with M's bitch ass. I can't wait to hear that he died. I'm gonna piss on his grave.

SO Eddie got the title of "junior youth leader" when he was like 15/16 because he WAS the youth group. People only showed up to hang out with him. He knew everyone. He knew everything that was going on. He was the one keeping the peace because we were ROWDY fucking kids.

FOR THE RECORD Eddie's kitchen fingering was not with M's daughter. It was with his first girlfriend.

Story 1: Local trashy white man picks on Puerto Rican teenager

Eddie is actually the reason M's daughter's bathroom fucking scandal wasn't a FULL scandal. He kept that shit underwraps and stopped the gossip because he was friends with both parties involved.

M wasn't our original youth pastor. We used to have this ANGEL named Tim but he moved out of state so R gave the job to his son. I never liked M and then when he gave me shit for taking Fridays off because I was exhausted from school I hated him. He was NOT meant for that position. I think he only got it because he was a big kid (derogatory).

NO ONE liked M. Deadass no one came to youth group for the lesson. We came to hang out with out friends we only got to see on the weekends.

Literally the beef STARTED because Eddie was smoking off property BEFORE youth group with a few other teens. M didn't like that because he's supposed to be an example.

Keep in mind Eddie was 16yrs old. Living in an abusive household. Taking the brunt of the physical abuse from our mom because he protected us. And he was a poor kid going to a private school and had to keep a certain GPA to stay. Man was stressed and JUST wanted to smoke before he had to go infront of his peers and friends act like everything was perfect and he was hyped for God for 2-3hrs every weekend.

So for like 2 months M and Eddie were going back and forth on Facebook. Indirect posts, comments. EVERYTHING WAS OUT IN THE OPEN! Eddie refused to move it to DMs because he's not stupid. If this grown man wants to act a fool he was going to do it in front of EVERYONE!

Like M was judging him so brutally and pulling out Bible verses out of his ass. It was annoying.

It came to a head when R basically told my dad to control his son. Imagine being I'm your late 40s with a son in his late 20s picking a fight with a 16yr old. And you blame it on the CHILD!

That obviously didn't sit well with my dad.

And it wasn't like my dad was just some dude. My dad was head of security. My mom was heading the baby/toddler care classrooms.

We were at the church SEVERAL days out of the week.

That was my second home at that point. It's the church I grew up in.

WE WERE PART OF THE CHURCH!

So we kind of started getting pushed out of the church. I believe we had been there for like 11 years at that point.

We finally left after a year of the awkwardness and feeling like it wasn't home anymore.

Story 2: Death, Devastation, and Divorce

This one is rough. Deals with losing a child. And is still very much a story that hurts me 19 years later.

In 2005, R and E's son, JK, who was only 7 at the time died on an amusement park ride. He was a friend of mine and I was absolutely fucking devastated.

R and E were still married and E was the worship leader at the time.

And it was FUCKED UP devastating. Because E took JK's body home and prayed over him for 3 days for God to resurrect him. Like she admitted this in front of the entire congregation. What made her stop and accept it was he came to her in a dream and told her he was not leaving heaven.

There was a huge rift at the church over it. Instead of people supporting R grieving his baby half of the church ended up leaving following this.

People didn't like that R rightfully took a break from preaching despite E still heading the worship team. He had guest pastors come in and give sermons. I think he took 3 months off.

During this time E had an affair with the man who she is now married to.

So obviously R and E divorced. Got in front of the whole congregation and broke the news. E left the church and opened a little cabaret theater with the money from the amusement park lawsuit from JK's death. E took all the money from the lawsuit because R didn't want it.

Even though I think he could have out some of that money towards the church but I digress.

A few years later R met and married G and they're still together. I adored G and still very much hope she's doing well.

Story 3: NEW TEA POPPING OFF AS WE SPEAK

SO I can't remember the date but I had a dream that Joe and I visited a church in Texas and it happened to be pastored by R. It was a weird dream because I hadn't thought of R in years and why was he in Texas?

TURNS OUT during COVID R and G sold the church and moved to Texas. I HAD NO IDEA THIS HAPPENED!

And the day I had the dream R&G posted on their Facebooks EXPOSING E, M&M and some other not important assholes from the church.

THE FUCKING DRAMA

So when G came into the picture people were weird obviously. She wasn't E. And some Christians don't believe in divorve and remarrying.

But what R&G exposed was some of the leaders didn't accept her. E still had loyalties within in the church. WHICH IS WILD!remarriage. She had spies.

Also despite E getting all the lawsuit money from JK's death, in the divorce she fought for alimony on top of child support. R and E had another daughter.

R claims she had 10% of his salary. He didn't fight or stand up for himself because he was trying to make it as quick and clean as possible for their daughter.

He also took accountability for not protecting and defending G from the sharks in the church's leadership.

E and her spies at the church made R and G's lives a living hell behind the scenes. AND NO ONE KNEW!

And even now that R and G are on the other side of the country E and M&M are still making their lives hell, trying to claim their new ministry is fraudulent.

Imagine caring that hard.

NOW let me tell you about M&M! So M married M² and I had no issues with M² but now as an adult I realize if she chose and married that piece of shit why wouldn't she also be a piece of shit?

So R alleges in his post that M&M did some sketchy ILLEGAL shit in the church that made him ask them to step down from leadership instead of throwing their asses in jail which they didn't like. Which at that point should have just sent them to jail.

He didnt specify because M&M/E and R&G are currently suing each other. It's a big MESS!

And after M&M were forced to step down they left the church and moved to NC.

And M&M/E we're trying to turn the rest of R's family (his mom and siblings against him) but fortunately they all knew better.

People mentioned in the lawsuits are people from the church my family knew personally.

Mostly all people I never fucking liked too. Which is why I trust my gut about people always.

It's a WHOLE thing and my mom is watching Facebook for updates.

[visionkept]

IC NSF.W QUESTIONNAIRE.

intended for writers and muses in the rp community eighteen and over. feel free to repost. BONUS: discover more about a ship’s sexual compatibility at mojoupgrade !

[ OO1 > introduction. ]

[ OO2 > basic. ]

name? Tomoya Aoki ( Tomo ).

age? 25 years old.

gender? nonbinary ( they / them ).

orientation? demiromantic, pansexual.

[ OO3 > in depth. ]

YES! kinks? dirty talk, electro stimulation, breeding, orgasm denial, edging, teasing, daddy kink.

EH! kinks? pet play, semi-public, voyeur ( these three depend on how close you are to them ), wax play, humiliation, brat tamer.

NO! kinks? mommy kink, blood play, choking, age play, and the big general NOPS.

preferred positions? any position that gives them the chance to see their partner’s expressions really ( and doggy style ).

dominant, submissive, both? switch. the best of both worlds.

promiscuous or subdued? promiscuous when single, usual hook ups and one night stands.

lights on or lights off? lights off with casuals, lighs on with partners.

outspoken or reserved / shy? outspoken, can’t keep their mouth shut between the groans and the dirty talk.

traditional or experimental? open to experimenting new things, depends mostly on their partner if they want to keep things vanilla or not.

fast or slow? by default ( with partners that got some experience ): fast. Slow when it’s love making or if it’s their partner’s first time.

quickies or all-nighters? quickies for hook ups. BOTH for partners.

rough or soft? rough. the soft option unlocks when they fall in love.

romantic or dirty? dirty. can accidentally make it romantic with someone they have fallen for. if you got them too deep in a relationship then both.

partially clothed or nude? them clothed, their partner nude ( it’s a kink ). doesn’t mind both, unless it’s in the revived AU and tomo HAS to cover their chest.

what’s their “type”? cryo women or small and breedable individuals. For real this time, they seem to be attracted to those with strong beliefs and unique personalities. Those who aren't afraid to speak their mind, that won’t let others hold them back.

how do they view sex? as a necessity, a basic need for many ( them included ). Tomoya doesn’t mix it with feelings, instead they use sex to cope with their loneliness. Gets pleasure and a momentary connection to feel NEEDED and WANTED even if it’s just for one night.

how often do they have sex? at least once every week - two weeks.

do they kinkshame? nop. they might act a bit confused to some very strange kinks but they won’t judge. 

preferences? heavily prefers to give oral than receive. oh and the classic: thighs > ass > tits.

favorite toys / extras? cat ears + ( plug ) tail for their partner gets them very happy.

do they enjoy porn? nah, prefers being the one acting.

have they ever been in porn? nop.

are they physically flexible? depends on the position. at the end of the day they are a human so don’t get too crazy with them and it will be okay.

ever exchanged sex for something? yeah. . . desperate times require desperate measures. sometimes they need a favour or two and sex seems to be a way to get them.

when did they lose their virginity? yikes ! pretty early in life tbh. they don’t remember with who or how it flowed though.

how long can they go without sex? if they are single and it’s not the single paren’t au, they can’t endure it for more than a month. They are NEEDY and they love the attention...

thoughts on foreplay? if they are single and it’s a casual thing, they don’t care much about it. however. . . if they are dating . . . gosh they love it, IT’S A MUST for them.

how often do they masturbate? not often. only when they haven’t had any action in a long time.

are they vocal (words) during sex? yep, very vocal.

do they like to keep music on? no.

sex on the first date? honestly, the probabilities of tomo asking someone on a date are low af. got a higher chance on sleeping with them rather than a date lmao. if they ask you on a date then that means they have fallen hard so sex on the first date is a possibility.

a sexual secret they’ve never shared? they've never given a boob job and they are EAGER to try it out. pls they got the tits already, it’s just a matter or who rather than when. OH ALSO: they can apply electro to their hands goodbye ✌️ .

[amor-immortalem]

A Change in Routine

Word Count: 5.4k +

Repost from yesterday cuz my dumbass queued it for the wrong day!

A/N: Allergies were kicking my ass last year, so I didn’t have much energy to finish this up before Mammon’s (and Mahlon’s) birthday hit. I’ve had a whole year to work on this instead, so we’ll see if it’s still any good.

“What do you mean he won’t be home for our birthday?!”

“Honey, your father has a lot of souls to judge.” Arella frowns at the look on her youngest’s face. She always hated it when any of the kids were let down. “He’s trying his best to be done with his work by the weekend but unfortunately, sometimes these things happen. I know it’s disappointing because you two always celebrate your birthdays together, but there’s always next year, right?”

The boy only looks away from his mother frowning. “Yeah, I guess…” and then he runs off to sulk.

“He’ll be fine.” the human tells herself, “Learning how to accept changes will be good for him.”

・・・〆・・・

As the week goes on, Mahlon seems to get more upset over Mammon not being home on their birthday. He doesn’t do any schoolwork- not that grade one offers that much schoolwork to begin with. Even if it did, the little one was too distracted wracking his brain over why his father was really missing their birthday. It had to be something he did.

“Maaaahloonnn, are you even listening to me?” Oliver complains as he waves his hand in front of his cousin’s face. “Helloooo, are you in there?”

The pair were waiting for their mothers after school let out that Friday as both Azalea and Cyrus had been stuck in detention, Henry had cut school to stay home and play video games all day, Melissa and Solaris were at cram school and Aurelius had a photoshoot at Majolish right after R.A.D had gotten out for the day.

“No… I wasn’t. Sorry…” the apology was half-hearted at best. “What were you saying?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” the older half-demon sighs as he takes a seat next to the freckled boy. “You’ve been like this all week- I thought you would be super excited considering your birthday is the day after tomorrow…”

“Daddy won't be home for it this year so what’s the point in being excited?”

“You’re sad about it? I thought you’d like having a party all to yourself this year…”

“I like sharing my birthday with Daddy. That’s the only good thing that makes me special from my brothers and sister… you wouldn’t get it. You’re Aunt Paisley and Uncle Belphie’s only kid so things are different for you, but I have to compete for my parents’ attention with the others…”

Oliver only shrugs as Paisley and Arella arrive.

“Hey, boys.” Paisley smiles as Oliver runs up and all but leaps into their arms. “Did you have a good day?”

“My day was good! I didn’t fall asleep at all during class!” the blue and white-haired boy smiles, “I missed you lots and lots though!”

“Awww, I missed you to, baby.”

“And what about your day, Mahlon?” Arella asks, “Did you have a fun time?”

Mahlon only shrugs, he won’t tell her about all the teasing and bullying that went on throughout the day.. “It was okay, I guess… not a whole lot happened so I guess it was kinda boring…”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Arella kneels down, “I know you’ve been kind of down in the dumps this past week so how about we go get some ice cream to make up for the day, hm?”

Oliver’s eyes lit up at the mention of sweet treat. “Can we go too, Mommy? Please, please, pleeeeease?”

“I don’t really want ice cream,” the black-haired boy says softly. “Sunday, I’m gonna have cake. That’s way too much sweets for one weekend. I just wanna go home…”

Arella and Paisley share a worried look. Mahlon loves ice cream- it’s his most preferred treat when his mood is off and to hear the boy turn down such an offer is surprising.

“He’s really taking the whole news about Mammon being away for his birthday pretty rough, isn’t he?”

“Unfortunately…” Arella sighs before turning her attention back to Mahlon. “Alright well, if you change your mind later, we can always go then.” She offers her hand to him which he takes. “We’ll see you all on Sunday. Have a good night, Paisley. Please remind Belphegor we have that meeting on Monday at 8 am and unless he is actively judging souls in Hell, he needs to be there, awake and alert.

“Alright.” They smile, “Also when is your next trip to the human world going to be? I’d like to go visit my sister and see the sun.”

“Next week, I think… I’ll let you know once I check my calendar.”

After that, the two humans part ways, their children in tow.

・・・〆・・・

Once Arella and Mahlon get home, the boy goes straight to his room. He doesn’t even greet Azalea as she sits in the middle of the living room floor attempting to beat the final boss of a new RPG Levi had lent her. Something not unnoticed by the 20-year-old.

“What’s his deal?” she asks as Arella takes a seat on the couch behind her.

“He’s upset that your father won’t be home for his birthday.” The human frowns. “You know how he likes these types of things to be the same every year and the fact that it’s different this year has been affecting him all week.”

“Oh, he’s so dramatic- it's one birthday.” Azalea rolls her eye, “The kid’s gonna have a billion more to celebrate with Dad, one year won’t hurt nothin’. ‘N besides, Cyrus isn’t doing so hot in his training which is causing all sorts of back-ups for Dad- and I’m out here putting in all this hard work behind the scenes so Cyrus can know what he’s doin’, and yet, it’s being wasted.” She feigns a disappointed sigh, “You can tell he ain’t got the spine for the job... so annoying but what can I do?”

“Well, I appreciate what you’re doing to help your brother- and I’m sure your father does as well even if he doesn’t quite realize it yet.” Arella smiles. “Changing subjects, you had an eye-doctor appointment today- how did that go?”

“Shitty.” the freckled girl replies, “Turns out I can’t see for shit out of my remaining eye. I’m gonna need glasses or a monocle or some shit like that. Hey, do ya think if I got a glass eye to replace the one I’m missin’ that that would be weird?”

“No,” Is all Arella responds with at first, “I think it would make for some interesting pranks with demons who don’t know you very well though.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” A mischievous grin paints itself on her features, “Thanks for the idea, Mum.”

“Any time, my dear.”

・・・〆・・・

“So, there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to make it home in time for Sunday?” the human chews on her bottom lip as she washes the dishes from dinner.

“No.” Is Mammon’s response, “I ain’t even gotten through a small fraction of the souls I had to go chase down after Cyrus summoned ‘em but couldn’t judge ‘em fast enough. There has to be a good 5000 left. Probably another 1000 still out runnin’ around the fourth layer too. Some even escaped back up to the human world- Thirteen told me she’d round them all up and haul ‘em back here for me but the whole situation is just a mess.”

He runs a hand through his hair as he sighs.

“This ain’t what I wanna be doing on mine and Mahlon’s birthday of all days. I’d like to be home with y’all, but it just isn’t meant to be this year, I guess.”

“Yeah, Mahlon’s taking it especially hard. I don’t know what it is about your guys’ birthday, but he just refuses to compromise on it. He didn’t even seem too keen on a party because it’s not something we usually do for you two.”

“It’s cuz ya spoil him too much, Babe.” The demon teases, “Every time he even looks like he’s gonna have one of his meltdowns, you cave.”

“And you don’t?” She asks worriedly, “You’ve seen what he does to himself when he gets that upset- the biting, the hitting, the head-banging, the scratching-”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it all. But I don’t let it happen either. I lock the kid down ‘n hold on until he’s done and had a chance to calm down some. It ain’t all that difficult to keep him safe and not let him have his way at the same time.”

“Easy for you to say,” Arella sighs, “I don’t have the physical strength necessary to hold him down like that and with how hard he bangs his head, he might actually break my ribs if he decides to bang his head against my chest, so my only option is to give in to his demands.”

“And that’s why ya have the hardest time setting limits with him, ‘Rella. Get one of his siblings to hold him down- ‘Relius and Cyrus both know how, and Azalea’s seen me do it enough times that she’s got the gist of it too. Anyway, I have to go before I lose these souls that I just managed to bring back. I love you, and I’ll see you... hopefully sometime next week?”

“I love you too. Come back soon.”

She doesn’t know it yet, but the demon’s been lying to her this entire time. He’d managed to catch up on this disaster his son had made earlier in the week and now didn’t have nearly as much work left as he’d told her- maybe just a single night’s worth of work left. All this lying was meant to just be a big surprise for his youngest.

As the pair hang up, Arella can hear some kind of commotion going on upstairs. She runs to go check it out. To her surprise, she sees Mahlon being held down by his sister as he just wails and struggles and screams.

“Hey, hey, it ain’t the end of the world, kid. It’s just one day. It’s not worth hurtin’ yourself over.” Her words end up breaking with each backswing of the six-year-old's head against her chest before she shifted her hands to grasp both of his wrists in one and the other’s placed against Mahlon’s forehead so he couldn’t headbang anymore. Azalea even has her legs placed over his to keep Mahlon’s legs from kicking violently. “It’s okay for things to be a little bit different.”

“NO, IT’S NOT!” The black-haired boy shrieks at the top of his lungs as he coughs in between sobs. He starts squirming to get out of his sister’s grasp, but she’s got him locked down. “I WANT DADDY!”

“Well, Daddy ain’t here and carryin’ on this way ain’t gonna make him magically appear either.” Azalea’s tone is stern as she looks over at their mother. “Look, Mum’s here. You’re scaring her by acting like this. I can let you go but we need to have a calm body first.”

“NO!” Again, the six-year-old wriggles and squirms. “I WANT DADDY! I WANT DADDY HOME WITH US FOR OUR BIRTHDAY!”

“Mahlon, honey, this is quite enough.” Arella is kneeling down in front of her youngest. “I know this is a big change for you, but we can’t help that your father won’t be here. Nothing can stay the same forever. Everything always changes even if it’s just a little bit.”

“B-but I don’t wa-nt it to!” The little half-demon's voice hiccups as he starts to calm down. He’s still heaving breaths as he sniffles.

“I know, Baby.” the human smiles sadly as she wipes the remaining tears away, “But as time goes on, that’s just what happens. There’s no reasoning to it.”

As the child finally de-escalates, Azalea let’s him go. Arella can’t help but try to cover up the wince her face takes at the sight of his little arms all scratched and bitten up. All the wounds were superficial, thankfully, but they still look painful.

“My head hurts...” is all Mahlon mumbles as he leans against his mother.

“Well, yeah, I bet.” Azalea grumbles as she rubs the spot on her chest that he’d been all but bashing his head against. “You’ll feel better in a bit once you calm down a bit more.”

“I can give you something for the pain,” Arella says as she wraps the six-year-old up in her arms. “Azalea, do you want anything for your chest? You look like you’re in pain.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” She’s scrolling through her fabsnap when she comes across a shipping video between her, the poster, and her twin. “Grooooossss, why’re people even inta real-person-fiction? It’s kinda depressing to be honest.”

Arella merely shrugs. “Comes with the price of coming from a family as well-known as ours. Just block them and move on.”

“Those are the types of people who didn’t get bullied enough as kids and it shows.” The 20-year-old chuckles. “Like we’d even be into sharing partners with each other anyway.”

“Azalea. Just ignore it if you’re uncomfortable with it. The longer you watch and engage with it, the more frequently that type of content will appear on your feed.”

“Fine, fine, I’m done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a project I still need to finish before the party on Sunday.” She’s off before either Mahlon or Arella can ask what she was working on.

・・・〆・・・

It’s rather early in the morning- just before the crack of dawn- when Mammon sneaks into the house. This was supposed to be a surprise, not only for his youngest, but for his wife as well who was none the wiser about what was really going on. He finds her in the kitchen, brewing her usual morning cup of tea.

Quietly, he inches closer and closer until...

“Gotcha!” Mammon wraps his arms around her waist.

Arella reacts immediately, head flying back and hitting the demon square in the mouth. The white-haired male recoils letting out a pained groan as he stumbles back.

“Mammon!?” Arella’s surprised as she gets a better look at him in the dim kitchen light. “Oh, Love, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Totally,” He’s still covering his mouth as he leans against the counter. “I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, the human only grabs an ice pack from the freezer. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that? Let me see your mouth.”

“Hundreds,” Mammon does as he’s asked, revealing the freshly busted lip he received from this exchange. “I thought it would go better than this...”

“Well, unfortunately that’s not the case.” She sighs as she wraps the ice pack in a towel and hands it to her husband. “You could have told me you were coming home early, you know?”

“And have you ruin the surprise for Mahlon? Nah. Speaking of, is he still in bed? I thought he woulda been up by now even with it being a rough night for y’all.”

“So, you heard about that? You can thank your daughter for stepping in to help.”

“She did? I’m surprised.”

“Yes, she did. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, he’s still sleeping- well more like he just fell asleep not too long ago. There was a lot of self-injurious behavior, so Azalea’s been sitting with him the past couple of hours. You can be the one to wake him up later.”

“Yeah sure, but for right now…” Mammon wraps his arms around her waist as he leans in for a kiss, “since we’re the only ones up ‘n all, I figured we could-”

“No.” The human chuckles softly as she dabs at his lip with a paper towel. “After I have my tea, I promised Azalea I would finish wrapping the present she made for Mahlon and after that I’m starting on the culinary prep work for today’s party and then breakfast. Buuuut if you’re a good boy today, then I promise we’ll have time for that later once the kids all go to bed.”

“Fiiiiine,” The demon purses his lips in a pout at the rejection. “Can I at least get one kiss? It is my birthday after all.”

Arella leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You can’t trick me that easily, Mammon. We’ve been together long enough that I know one kiss isn’t just one kiss with you. Now, run along and go get some rest. You’ll need it if I’m going to have my fun with you tonight.” She gives her husband a pat to the cheek as she turns back to the kettle that was now whistling.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay and help.”

・・・〆・・・

At about 11:30, after a whole seven and a half hours of assisting his wife, Mammon decides it’s time to wake Mahlon for the day.

As he ascends the steps up to the second level, who should he run into but his daughter. She was just coming out of her youngest brother’s room when Mammon calls out to her.

“Thanks for helping your ma out last night, Zay.”

“Hmm? Yeah, don’t worry about it.” The half-demon yawns. “Cyrus and Aurelius seemed pretty fit to be tied with the kid last night, so I just dealt with it. Don’t expect it to be a regular occurrence though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it- anyway, it’s just nice to know I can count on ya to step up when we need it.”

With nothing more said between the two, Azalea stalks off back to her room and Mammon continues of his mission to wake up Mahlon.

As he enters the child’s room, he knelt down beside his son’s bed.

“Mahlon, time to wake up, Buddy.”

The little half-demon grumbles as he rolls away.

“Mahlon,” the demon tries once more, “Mommy made breakfast for you. Its gonna get cold.”

“Noooo,” this time there’s an audible response as Mahlon pulls his pillow over his head. “Want Daddy.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m the one wakin’ ya up then.” Mammon’s voice is a little louder, a little clearer than the gentle tone he’d just been using.

It takes the boy a little longer to process what he’s just heard than usual, but when it clicks, Mahlon sits up frantically with wide multicolored eyes.

“Surprise!”

“Daddy!”

The seven-year-old leaps forward, nearly knocking his father to the ground as he wraps his arms around the demon’s neck in a tight hug. Mammon’s able to catch himself before he manages to topple over though.

“You said you weren’t gonna be home in time.” Mahlon’s voice comes out muffled.

“Thought I wasn’t for a minute there,” Mammon sighs as he stands up and heads downstairs, “but I worked extra hard so I could be home in time to celebrate with you.” He sets the boy down as they reach the kitchen.

“There’s the birthday boy!” Arella smiles as she sets Mahlon’s plate at the table. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mhm. I slept really good. I’m still kinda sleep.”

“Didn’t know being an obnoxious little brat could be so exhausting,” another voice grumbles under their breath from the table.

“Aurelius, enough.” The human replies sternly. “Finish up your breakfast so you’re not late for your photoshoot.”

“Don’t got one anymore after a certain someone decided to bite me so hard his fangs broke skin,” his green eyes send an annoyed glare towards his younger brother who misses the malice behind it completely.

“Don’t have your arm near my mouth then.” Mahlon shoots back as he sticks his tongue out.

“Don’t be so out of hand that I have to restrain you!” He stands suddenly and Arella puts a barrier up between the two of them to keep anyone from getting hurt.

“No thanks, boys. We’re not doing this right now. Both of you need to finish your breakfast and then you can go your separate ways until the party.”

“And when you’re done, Aurelius,” Mammon pops his head in through the kitchen serving hatch, “come see me in Mom’s office. I wanna talk to ya about something.”

Mahlon just gives his older brother a smug look when neither of their parents are looking, thinking he’d won their little exchange, to which Aurelius just rolls his eyes and shovels what remained of his breakfast into his mouth.

・・・〆・・・

“So, you wanted to see me?” Aurelius asks as he closes the door to the office. He’s surprised to see his older siblings sitting in the chairs in front of the desk. “Well at least I know I’m not in trouble if the two of you are here as well.”

“Ya weren’t in trouble to begin with, kid.” The demon has to suppress a soft chuckle, “Pop a squat, it’ll only be a couple minutes for you. Your brother and sister however- well I got more than just a couple of minutes worth of lecture for them.”

Once Aurelius has taken a seat next to his sister, all three of them wait patiently.

“I want y’all to stop helping with your brother.” Mammon starts after a long pause. None of them can believe what they just heard.

“Come again?” Azalea is the first to speak. “Did you say ‘stop’ helping?”

“I did.” The demon nods as he looks over some files on the computer. “Mahlon’s seven now so he won’t need as much constant supervision like he did when he was really little. Not to mention, I’m leaving modeling altogether after my next photoshoot so I’ll be able to home all the time now.”

Aurelius’s eyes widen at hearing the news.

“So no more babysitting after that?” The youngest of the three asks. “And what about your throne in Hell? Are you abdicating that as well?” This was great news.

“Nah, I’m still gonna hold onto that for a while. With that whole mess that your brother and sister made for me to clean up down there, it proves to me to Cyrus definitely isn’t ready to take over just yet.”

Cyrus only looks away out of embarrassment and mumbles a small ‘sorry’.

“That’s all I really wanted to talk with you about, Aurelius. You’re free to go. Majolish will probly be calling ya by the end of this week to see if you’re interested in filling my spot so be on the look out for that.”

“Right,” the half-demon gets up and heads out, a new spring in his step as he can hear his father lay into his siblings about summoning all the souls that had escaped the throne room in hell. “Well sucks to be them I guess.”

・・・〆・・・

With the party in full swing, Mammon and Mahlon both find it difficult not to let themselves have a good time. While the adults and the older kids were all occupied by hearing embarrassing stories about Mammon’s past, much to the demon’s chagrin, Mahlon and the cousins he was closest in age to just ended up snooping around his gifts- well more like just Mahlon and Oliver. Hakan was trying to help himself to a tenth helping of chips and a taco dip that Isabella had brought.

“What’re you even trying to do, Mahlon? The ginger-haired half-demon asks as he enjoys the newly acquired dip on his plate. “Usually, when people snoop around their gifts, there’s a lot of shaking of the boxes. They don’t just stare at them.”

“I was trying to see if my powers had come in yet or if I had any magic like Mommy yet…” he sighs, “but I guess the doctor wasn’t lying when they said I’d never get either…”

“You don’t need any of that though,” Oliver smiles. “I like you just the way you are.”

Mahlon doesn’t say anything in response. As the adults announce its time to cut the cake, the black-haired half-demon takes off.

・・・〆・・・

Mahlon hides out in the backyard behind a tree as he tries to stifle his tears. How could his cousin say that? ‘I like you just the way you are,’ what a joke. They’re family. He has to like him even if it’s only just a little bit. What Mahlon really wants is for his peers to like him.

As the boy wipes at his eyes, he feels someone take a seat next to him.

“Was the party too much for ya, buddy?” Mammon’s voice is soft, worrying that any louder might push the child into an overstimulation meltdown. When the seven-year-old only shakes his head, the demon lets out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Do ya know what’s got ya so upset?” A nod this time. “Did it have something to do with whatever Oliver said to you?”

“Kinda… he’s not in trouble, is he?”

“No,” Mammon smiles as he ruffles Mahlon’s already messy curly hair. “We were all just really confused when you took off like that. Ya wanna tell me what the deals is?”

“It’s dumb…” the freckled half-demon admits. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“I really won’t. You could tell me the dumbest thing in the world ‘n I still wouldn’t laugh at ya.”

“… it’s ‘cause I don’t have any powers or magic yet. The other kids at school tease me, call me a freak and it hurts my feelings.”

“Oh, Mahlon… I’m sorry, buddy. I know that’s gotta be really tough to go through, especially when you look at your siblings and cousins and see them with theirs…” Mammon wraps an arm around the little one and pulls him into tight side hug.

“They say th-there’s s-something wrong with me. That I-I’m-m broken and-and-”

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay. Just take a couple deep breaths, alright?” He brushes away Mahlon’s tears and holds him tight even as the green-to-blue-to-gold-eyed boy starts to thump the side of his head against Mammon’s chest. “No, we’re not doin’ any of that right now, lil’ man.”

They sit in silence for a few moments until the worst of it passes before the demon speaks again.

“It doesn’t matter what those kids say to you Mahlon, ‘cause they don’t know nothin’. I know what they said to you hurts but you ain’t broken. You’re just built different and that’s what makes you so special. When you grow up, there’re gonna be opportunities that only you will have because you don’t have any demonic powers or magic.”

“Like what?” His multicolored eyes peer up at his father.

“Well, for starter:” Mammon smiles, “you are the only one out of you and your siblings that will be able to have the choice to live in the human world if that’s what you want. No magic or powers means you won’t be so easily clocked as anything other than just a normal human.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.” He smiles. “‘N besides, why would ya ever wanna be just like everyone else when you can be one-of-a-kind? The teasing and bullyin’ll be short-lived but one day, you’re gonna meet people that will like you for you, not what you can do. Trust me on it.”

Slowly, Mahlon nods. “Okay.”

“Good,” Mammon stands, with a slight bounce, making Mahlon laugh as he grabs on tighter to his father, “now, let’s back to the party. There’s a big ol’ piece of cake with your name on it, literally.”

・・・〆・・・

The rest of the party goes off without a hitch. After it seemed all the presents were opened, their family began to take their leave. That’s when Azalea pulls her youngest brother aside for a moment.

“Here,” she produces one last gift from behind her back and handed it to Mahlon.

The box is pretty as the black-haired boy inspects it. He begins to open it slowly, pulling the lid off and peaking inside.

He looks up at her with surprise before reaching in to pull the gift from its container.

“A Blue Jay!” He smiles wide as he hugs the stuffed toy tightly and is delighted to find the toy lets off the calls of the bird it's made after. “Thank you!” He wraps his arms around her in hug. “I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries, squirt. Just make sure you take care of it. I’m not makin’ ya another one if ya lose it or it gets broken somehow.” Azalea manages to extricate herself from the hug before walking past her brother. “If y’re up for one more surprise, follow me out to the Aviary, yeah?”

And that piques Mahlon’s curiosity as he follows his sister’s lead. When the pair arrive, they’re greeted by Mammon’s crows all huddled around their master as he fiddles around with the doors of the incubator he has for eggs some of his younger crows won't care for.

“I got him, Dad.”

“Thanks, Mahlon, c’mere. I wanna show you something.” Mammon picks up something out of the incubator and kneels down to his son’s height.

The young boy can only watch in awe as a fledgling jay pokes her head out of his hands to look around at her surroundings. When the bird sees Mahlon, she chirps happily.

“Wanna hold her? She’s yours.” The demon asks as Mahlon nods furiously.

“Where did she come from?” He asks, “We don’t have blue jays down here.”

“A cat brought her down here to make a meal out of her- if you look really closely, you’ll see her wings still kinda messed up so she can’t fly all that well yet.” He explains, “in a few weeks she’ll be good as new but you’re gonna help me take care of her til that happens.”

“Okay,”

“So, what’s ‘er name?” Azalea asks, one of her own familiars swooping down and landing on her shoulder and dropping a pretty rock into her left palm.

“Doesn’t she have one already?” Mahlon asks.

“You’re her master,” Mammon explains with a chuckle, “wouldn’t be right if anyone else named her.”

“What about… what about Azul… that’s a good name, right, Daddy? Azalea don’t laugh at me!”

“It is if you say it is.” Mammon swats at Azalea to get her to stop snickering at the name her little brother had chosen for his first familiar. “Now, let’s put ‘er back to bed so she can rest her wing. We’ll see her in the morning.”

Mahlon nods as he gives the bird in his hands a gentle kiss on the head as he sets her back in the incubator.

As the three of them all head in for the night, Mahlon can’t help but think this was the best birthday he’d ever had.

・・・〆・・・

Once all the kids are out for the night, Arella takes the time to seek out her husband in the living room where he’s just finished cleaning up the mess left from the party.

He hasn’t realized she was coming up behind him, so Arella takes the chance to get a little payback for this morning.

“Maaaammmon!” The sound of her voice and the ways she wraps her arms around his neck as she jumps up onto his back makes the demon jump.

“Wha- Arella!” He’s not amused by his wife’s antics. “I coulda really hurt ya just now.”

“And it would be worth every bit of pain. Think of it as payback for this morning.” She kisses his cheek and drops back down to the floor. “Did you have a good birthday, Love?”

“Yeah, it was great actually.” He nods as he turns to face her, pulling her close. “Third best birthday ever.”

“Third? What were the first two?”

“The last one we had with Cyrus before he went missing and the year we had Mahlon.” Mammon smiles as he takes a seat in the couch, pulling his wife down with him.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your special day. I actually have one more gift for you. Would you like it?”

“Do ya even gotta ask?” Mammon leans in for a kiss, but Arella stops him by holding up a small box to his lips. “Oh, you meant an actual gift…”

“Don’t worry, Dear.” she laughs softly at his slight disappointment, “We’ll still do what I promised this morning, but I wanted you to open this last- when it was just us.”

“What is it?” He studies the box before opening it. “A new ring? Thanks, Babe.”

“Look on the inside. It’s engraved with a message.”

“For my soulmate, I would conquer time, space, and even death itself…” he takes a moment to take in the words etched into the band. “Oh, you are so corny… but I don’t think I’d change it for the world.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to her lips, leaning his forehead against hers once he pulls away.

“Love you, ‘Rella…”

“I love you too, Mammon. Happy Birthday.”

・・・〆・・・

End

[sinnaea]

Moonlighting, Chapter 1

Summary In order to save money and move residences to escape harassment from an ex-boyfriend, S.T.A.R.S. officer Jill Valentine moonlights as a pianist at a restaurant. After showing up late to work from a rough night, she finds herself in hot water with her boss; the enigmatic Captain Albert Wesker. However, after an unexpected and fateful encounter at the restaurant, a spark ignites affection for each other and their growing attraction would soon be the answers to both their problems.

This chapter follows Jill in the story and what she has been dealing with in the recent weeks.

Warning(s): None Rating: Mature

AO3 link

BANG BANG BANG!!

The chain lock on Jill’s front door rattled violently from the abrupt pounding. The officer jolted awake and instinctively grabbed her gun from the drawer of her nightstand, body rigid as she rose out of bed and ready to defend herself. Gun pointed directly at her front door with her finger resting against the trigger guard, she cautiously side stepped around the corner of her bed and released a deep and shaky breath through her nose, calming her rapid heartbeat.

It was the dead of the night. The studio apartment glowed a dark blue from the soft illumination of the moonlight through her window blinds. It was silent for a moment aside from the light hum of the refrigerator and water softly dripping from a leaky faucet Jill had been meaning to get repaired. The officer positioned herself next to a support post and waited. It was just wide enough to give herself some cover if the situation needed to come to that. Light from the building’s hallway was beaming through the bottom of the doorway, but two shadowy feet pacing side to side made the light look like it was dancing. Still, she waited.

“Open up, Jill! I know you have him!”

Jill’s shoulders and arms immediately dropped in frustration, but her mental guard was still up and her temper rose.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she groaned in anger as she headed for the front door and slammed her gun on the kitchen table as she stomped by. She released the deadbolt lock in a quick fury but left the chain untouched.

The man on the other side planted his hand on the door and tried to force it open but the chain held firm, halting the short rattle. His sweaty and rugged face came close to the crack of the door. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks and judging by his breath, he had been drinking. Jill flinched in disgust at the sharp reek of booze that greeted her.

“Where is he, huh?” the man growled through his teeth. His voice was hushed yet seething with hate. “I know you took him. Where is Ruger?”

“Fucking, what?” Jill quietly yelled in confusion. “I don’t have your dog, James. Now, leave me the hell alone!” Before she could slam the door in James’ face, he shoved his foot into the doorway.

“Ruger? Ruger?!” he yelled through the crack.

“Oh, my god! Will you get out of here before you wake everyone up?” Jill hissed at him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran away ‘cause you’re such a fucking asshole.”

James slammed his fist against the door with a deep grunt, rattling the chains once again. He pointed a threatening finger at Jill. “Wait ‘til I tell your cop buddies about this. I’ll have you fired and your ass will be on the streets!”

Jill gritted her teeth to control her rising rage. Her lips and nose twitching in suppressed anger. But she placed her hand over her exhausted eyes and wiped down her face to ease the tension in her cheeks and jaw. Fed up and maintaining her composure, she replied, “James. It’s been over a month. You need to stop calling me. You need to stop showing up here in the middle of the night uninvited. You need to move on and leave me alone.”

Knowing this was leading nowhere, the rugged man huffed through his flaring nose, spun away from her in an exasperated grunt and walked down the hallway, only stumbling once or twice.

Jill didn’t even think twice to watch him to make sure he was completely out of sight. She was too tired to care. The door shut and she locked the dead bolt, releasing an exhausted breath of relief and grief. Her head dropped, resting her forehead against the door and holding back tears. She was only anticipating the next time her ex-boyfriend would show up again.

After a brief moment, Jill dragged her feet back toward her bed, lazily picking up her gun along the way. But she made a stop at her desk in the corner of the room. Her eyes glazed over a hanging cork board of notes and a messy stack of paperwork until they met a framed picture of a happily sitting golden retriever. She picked it up with a small smile on her face.

“I wish you were here, buddy,” she quietly said to herself. “You’d be better off without him, too.” She carefully placed the frame back down in the darkness then proceeded to unplug her telephone on her desk. A preemptive move against any unwanted calls in the night.

Jill sat back down on her bed. Thinking about Ruger only made her feel depressed and she couldn’t stand the pain of him being lost. As an elite S.T.A.R.S. officer, Jill hated making mistakes even if it was in her personal life. She thought she had found the right man suited for her and even thought about settling down with him, treating Ruger like he was a baby. And even inquired if Ruger was good with children. But that initial dating phase blinded her. Blinded by James’ inceptive charm and gentleman-like behavior. Until he became too comfortable and Jill noticed his drinking problem along with the anger and increasing verbal abuse. And thinking more about him only made her angry, too.

She dropped her gun back into the nightstand and slammed it closed so hard that her alarm clock tumbled off. Too drained to be bothered, Jill fell back onto the mattress and covered herself with a blanket as the sound of a battery quietly rolled across the hardwood floor.

Jill woke up in a grog. Her eyes were puffy but she was still able to notice the immense brightness of the sun shining through her blinds, assuming it was going to be another hot day.

Knock knock knock. “Jill? Are you in there?” A concerned and familiar voice called to her through the front door.

Suddenly, the officer’s heartbeat bolted to her throat and a rush of anxiety tingled her skull. She kicked off her sheets and scrambled to find the alarm clock on the nightstand. Only to find it on the floor with a missing battery. Her eyes darted toward the unplugged phone on her desk.

“Shit!” she scolded herself as she hurried to the front door in a stumble. She found her partner, Chris, in full uniform standing on the other side. He shook his head in disbelief.

“What the hell, Jill?” he asked incredulously. “You weren’t answering your phone. Did you sleep in again?”

Jill ran her hand through her disheveled hair as Chris bombarded her with more questions. “Just- Just give me a few minutes,” she interrupted and shut the door. She hastily readied herself, struggling to put on her boots as she hopped toward the bathroom. She carelessly splashed cold water on her face to wake herself up and reduce the puffiness in her eyes. Tightening her belt as she made her way back to the front door, she met up with Chris who had just glanced at his watch.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said.

“Your beret?” Chris reminded her.

Jill scoffed in annoyance, reached back into the doorway and grabbed her blue beret off a hanging hook. She and Chris quickly made their way down the hallway as she adjusted her beret, tucking in uncombed hair strands.

“The captain is so pissed right now,” Chris remarked, almost chuckling.

“Shut up, Chris.”

Inside Captain Albert Wesker’s office, Jill stood with a hanging head and clenched fists. She couldn’t find the courage to look at him. Her eyebrows twitched and furrowed as the captain’s words scalded her ears. His body language seemed undisturbed but she felt every stab of his icicle gaze shoot right through her.

“This is the third time this month, Valentine. And over an hour late,” he said with a rising tone.

Finally, she looked at him out of respect for her superior. Calmly seated, his hands were neatly folded on his desk but his mute expression and cold glare told otherwise. Chris was right. The captain was pissed. “Captain, I-” Jill began. “I have no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.” She felt pathetic as there was nothing else to say. Or at least nothing she wanted to reveal.

A sharp exhale escaped through Wesker’s nose as he turned his head slightly with a tight lip. The gears turning in his head as his well articulated voice began to lay out. “If I weren’t me, I would temporarily suspend you.” He paused and Jill anticipated his next words in a sweat. “But, because we are who we are and you are one of my best officers, I’m assigning you overtime this evening.”

Jill softly gasped in shock, but it wasn’t because of how easy the captain just let her off. “N-no no no. It can’t be tonight,” Jill blurted out. Then became in disbelief with herself as she inadvertently argued.

Wesker cocked his head. “Excuse me? You would proclaim something better?” The captain was not one to show much emotion but she could feel his temper just below the surface.

“I-I me-meant no disrespect, s-sir,” Jill stammered. She shut her eyes and paused, giving her a moment to breathe and collect her scrambled brain. When she was somewhat calm, she said, “I’ll come in tomorrow. A full shift. And I promise you’ll never have to see me in your office like this again.”

There was a deafening moment of silence as their eyes locked. Jill was internally praying and hoping Wesker would agree.

“You would rather work a full shift on a Saturday than a few hours tonight?” Wesker asked.

The officer stood firm at attention. “Yes, sir.”

Despite Jill’s current stature, Wesker noticed the pleading in her face. It called out to him unexpectedly and for some reason he answered it. A barely audible short grumble vibrated in his throat. “Fine. Now get to work.”

Unknowingly holding her breath, Jill exhaled at ease. “Yes, sir.” She turned away when-

“Wait.”

Jill turned back and saw the captain rise out of his chair. “Yes, sir?”

The captain walked past her and gently shut the door to his office. He stood before her with relaxed shoulders. His perpetual dagger-like gaze and chiseled face somehow softened as he looked down at her.

“Jill. Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned yet warmly. “Everything at home?”

It was strange to hear him address her by first name but oddly comforting. Jill barely knew the captain outside of work but she was touched by his simple inquiry. No one had even asked her that since the break-up, not even Chris. Perhaps it was her emotions getting the better of her as she felt her jaw tremble, stifling tears. She wanted to let everything out and just bury her face in the captain’s hard chest, but she held back.

“Everything is fine, Captain. Thank you,” she replied plainly.

Wesker noticed that subtle yearning in her again, but he opened the door and let her go.

Friday night in Raccoon City was always bustling. The evening air was cool and breezy, providing relief to a rough morning. Waiting patiently on the sidewalk, Jill gripped at her clutch purse as she ignored the citizens passing by, quickly stealing glances at her elegant dress.

The officer was now outfitted in a dark blue, chiffon lace evening gown. A sharp contrast from her daily blues. Her fair skin of one arm and shoulder were exposed to the elements while the other comfortably wrapped in a lace sleeve. The lace on the upper half of the dress were embellished with fine sequins that could be part of the city sky itself. The leg slit revealed shimmering heels at her feet. The overall column accentuated her natural curves and physique. Even the officer’s naturally straight hair was curled loosely at the ends. Jill’s entire getup almost made her seem unrecognizable in the most beautiful way possible.

A yellow taxi pulled up to her and she sat in the backseat, careful not to wrinkle her dress. She was heading north toward the finer part of town. Warming her hands together and stretching her fingers, she gazed up at the high rise apartment buildings touching the night sky. She could only dream of what they looked like inside for now.

Soon, Jill reached her destination. The taxi slowed to a stop in front of a valet and the door was immediately opened for her. She stepped out onto the shiny concrete as the valet slightly bowed and addressed her.

“Good evening and welcome back, Ms. Valentine,” the man politely greeted. He looked young and barely out of his teens. He accompanied her toward the doors of the restaurant.

“Thank you,” Jill replied back with a smile. “I’ll be sure to play extra loud so you and the boys can hear from outside.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that,” the young man chuckled. He opened the door for her and she stepped in.

Jill’s heels clicked on the dark marble floors as she made her way through the restaurant. She passed the wide bar and cocktail lounge near the entrance, waving kindly at the acquainted bartender. The small chitter chatter of the restaurant patrons slowly quieted as Jill walked through the dining area and toward the back, approaching a grand ebony piano. She sat down on the small bench before the ivory keys and a waiter promptly poured her a glass of water and set it on a small round table next to the piano.

Taking in a deep breath and releasing all her tension from the day, Jill fluidly flexed and extended every joint of her fingers then hovered them over the keys. All eyes were on her but her gaze was upon the chandelier and hanging curtains centered on the crepuscular ceiling. This was the only time of her recent weeks that she felt tranquil. Almost as if she had floated into space and was headed toward the stars herself.

Jill began to play.

During that first hour, a curved smile on the corner of her mouth never left her face. Her eyes occasionally closed as she softly played calming tunes from memory. Scattered claps softly vibrated the air after the breezy pieces. Seeing the crowd pleased brought much joy and warmth to Jill’s heart, nearly forgetting why she started this gig in the first place. As patrons began to leave throughout the night, the waiter brought large bills to Jill and placed them in a glass bowl on the small round table. The bowl gradually filled as the night went on.

The evening was coming to an end and it was time for Jill’s final piece. Her very own arrangement she had been forging for months. The room fell silent, knowing her performance was coming to a close soon. She took a sip of water and stretched her fingers one last time and began.

Slow upbeat tunes floated through the air louder than any of the previous songs. It was jazzy, jaunty yet dark with a fun mixture of low and high notes. The permanent smile she bore disappeared as her eyebrows furled in concentration. Her fingers danced across the ivory like a ballet. Her upper body motions were tense yet flowy, projecting all her passion for the song. The patrons were still and silent as they watched and listened on, disregarding their expensive meals and conversations going cold. Even the employees were at a standstill. Time had frozen just for Jill.

Then, she was done.

Every single person in the room applauded her. Elated, a wide smile appeared on her face as she stood and bowed in the limelight. Silently mouthing ‘thank you’ to the patrons. Their claps slowly died down and they returned to their own worlds and Jill to hers. The few hours she spent playing the piano now felt like a fleeting moment of bliss from a dream. A familiar sadness began to creep back as she gathered herself to leave for the night.

The bartender approached her with a tray and a single glass of white wine. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

Surprised and flattered, Jill gingerly picked up the wine glass. At first, her heart dropped as she expected her ex-boyfriend, but then she blushed as the bartender stepped aside. In the distance sitting at the bar, a tall blonde man dressed in a sleek black suit raised his wine glass to her with a smirk.

“Captain Wesker?”

[winderlylandchime]

1/2 We are finally at 4x11!! I’m sorry that I’m only now back in your inbox but unfortunately i am on a straight mans schedule lol. He also had a few rough days with his recovery this week so he’s just now getting back to his normal self (no joke, the doctor actually said to him ‘i can tell youre not okay because you haven’t said anything about that guy yet.’ So im glad to know that’s the way to test him now) and because he’s been feeling like shit until today, he was rewatching old episodes to feel “comfort”. Anyway: The episode starts with Drew refusing to do the shoot ‘ohhhh Brian looks good. I forgot about the early 2000s and everyone wearing popped collars that was fun, i should bring that back. so Drew is being a little bitch? Imagine telling Brian that youre shy in just your underwear. (The scene cuts to everyone in their underwear and the man is dying out of laugher) this is something only Brian would come up with. I fucking love this. Only Brian Kinney’ ‘I don’t know how I feel about Emmett and Drew. I hate the idea of Emy being kept a secret. My baby deserves better’ Lindsay and Sam just came on tv ‘FUCK NO! I FORGOT ABOUT THIS SHIT. Can he fuck off and can she…i dont know do something else besides piss me off?’ The whole time he’s watching the Linds/Sam scene with a grossed out expression on his face. Like he smelled something really bad. And we are at the Linds and Brian scene ‘shes CRYING ABOUT IT TO BRIAN?! It makes no sense and it makes all the sense but its funny because she also judges Brian at times. THEY FUCKED?! Why would Brian ever fuck her? Or any woman? Is that why she has such a weird crush on him? Are they learning about bisexuality? (brian says that one line) wait what? What do you mean not at the same time? I thought thats the whole bi schtick’ ‘michael as a dad is actually fun. I like him like this. HUNTER IS DATING?! Oh my god! Who’s the lucky guy? HUNTER HAS A BOYFRIEND’ and we are at the scene where Em and Deb go to the ball ‘ohhhhh girl you look beautiful! Carl, come on dump that girl and go back to Debbie! Now I want them back’ ‘Why are there bikes all over the club? What the fuck is going on? What the fuck is Liberty Ride? JUSTIN SHOWED HIS DICK FOR A THOUSAND DOLLARS! THIS IS THE MAN I LOVE! Why are Melanie and Ben always in the center of events and being in charge? Whats up with that? *looks at me all happily* this one time i got a medal for participating in a marathon because i accidentally joined them when i missed my path. So i could totally do this ride. THERES BRIAN! Ha, Brian hates this charity money dude. So does he hate anyone that thinks theyre better than him OR can he read people really well (Melanie comes up to ask if Brian is bothering that guy) can she fuck off? This is the type of shit that pisses me the fuck off about her.’ THE HUNTER BEING WITH A GIRL SCENE IS UP!!!! ‘Is that hunter? GET IT BOY! Finally he is being a teenager and making out with boys in a car safely for free…*said in a most shocking voice ever* GIRLS?! SHES A GIRLS?! Isnt he gay? Wait what? Is he bi? Is it a parallel with Lindsay like they both figure out theyre bi? (The girls says shes given blowjob twice) you cant tell me that a part of him isn’t fighting the urge to offer tips’ *pauses tv just as Mel and Linds are on screen* ‘ugh. Hey, how come Justin never worked with Lindsay at the gallery? Wouldn’t that make sense? Like him getting a job at a gallery would be fun. Basically what I’m saying is throw this whole Lindsay and that creep storyline away and give me Blondie making art’ ‘ITS BRIAN! He looks much more healthier. Looks like the radiation stopped kicking his ass or did they forget about that plot? *leans back and puts his hands behind his head* Brian IS thee most successful gay business man. Oh this dude really wants money. I don’t trust him. *looks at me* and yes, it is because Brian doesn’t trust him. Fuck this guy, he has no clue who he’s fucking with. DESTROY HIM BRIAN’

I’m sorry to hear he’s not been doing well! Watching comfort episodes of a show is legit a fan response to feeling under the weather.

Brian coming up with everyone being in the underwear is 100% hilarious and also something that would not ever happen today. Can you imagine, in 2023, the Me Too response to that scene?

“I hate the idea of Emy being kept a secret” I think he’s going to appreciate that Peter is gay.

Also, ughhhh that scene “not at the same time” like bisexuality exists and the biphobia on this show is so strong that rather than have Lindsay be bi, they turned her into a terrible person.

HA! And Hunter could have been bi too. There could have been an entire bisexuality story arc involving Lindsay and Hunter but the writers were cowards. Maybe he can write a fanfic about it!

He will get his way in S5 when Justin has a show at Lindsay’s gallery… and maybe he will wish he never asked about Justin being involved with Lindsay’s gallery. That turtleneck gives me violinist flashbacks.

I love the JUSTIN SHOWED HIS DICK FOR A THOUSAND DOLLARS, THIS IS THE MAN THAT I LOVE. And DESTROY HIM BRIAN.