#fall into something and someone they adore

[unriding]

TRYING TO TAKE YOU HOME WHEN YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE THEM. ft. dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, phainon, and sunday.

sfw. f!reader. in which the hsr men try their best to convince you that they really are your boyfriend and not a complete stranger trying to take you back home after a long night out.

cw for implied alcohol consumption. not mentioned otherwise — just the silly scenario where reader seemingly doesn’t recognize them upon first glance. prompt from anon on prev blog! fem!reader for all.

— DAN HENG.

He wonders if this was truly the best course of action.

“Give me back my jacket, you jerk...” your words come out slurred, barely mustering the strength needed to keep your hold on his sleeve as you trail behind him down the street.

His jacket — he'd usually correct you — but he doesn't this time, lest you eventually come to the conclusion that the mentioned jacket isn't even yours and therefore holds no importance.

“Soon. The agreement we settled on was that if you don't make a scene, I'll give it back.”

It sounds like a threat.

And if someone were to spot him now, this would certainly paint his image in a light that he would much rather not be perceived in, if given the choice.

He knows this all too well — apparent from the nervous sweat collecting along his temples and the frequent clearing of his throat whenever your grip begins to loosen, but you seem to only giggle at the statement now, eagerly nodding along.

“Really? You pinkie promise, stranger? I'll be reaaall quiet then.”

“Yes,” his brows furrow — from either stress or a sense of urgency that you don't seem to have, “I give you my word. So, please, keep your voice down and follow me.”

You respond with a cheerful hum before eventually falling silent again, the street quiet aside from the patter of your clumsy footsteps following closely behind his own.

Though it’s short-lived, much to Dan Heng’s misery.

Only about a minute or two goes by until you start to tug on his sleeve, and his heart nearly stops beating in his chest. Perhaps you’ve already realized. Or perhaps you’ve pegged him as a dangerous type of guy — which wouldn’t surprise him, given the circumstances.

“Hey…” you tug once more, even harder now, and then stop walking entirely — shifting your weight backwards to avoid being pulled straight into him.

Uh oh.

“Hey.... stranger?” You're mumbling now, eyes locked on the floor, and his breath is stuck in his throat.

“I'm sleepy.”

“You.. you want to sleep,” He repeats, still uncertain — his words coming off a bit too similar to that of a question. “Right now?”

You nod, hands coming to rub at your eyes, as if doing so could wipe away the sudden wave of drowsiness that has overtaken you. Though, your efforts prove to be futile in the end, with each blink becoming slower than the last.

“Yes,” you murmur, “Here. I'm going to nap … and then .. and then I need to find my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. A part of him is relieved you remember, at least. Perhaps the other critical piece of information will find its way back to you soon as well.

Your eyes flutter back open when something familiar is draped across your shoulders. “Don't sleep here.”

“Here,” he turns around, lowering himself onto a knee to gesture for you to climb on. “I'll take you to your boyfriend.”

— JING YUAN.

“My boyfriend taught me how to fight, so don’t you even dare.”

He blinks, once, twice — the hand gently patting your head a moment ago now entirely frozen in place. “Oh?”

It makes sense as soon as you turn to glare at him. While he’s rather certain he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a look, another part of him — his heart, skips a happy beat over how adorable you look, even if you’re not smiling at him like usual.

“I see,” Jing Yuan continues again, only a moment later, taking a seat beside you (and choosing to ignore the way you make the conscious effort to scoot an inch away from him). Sassily so, he might add, similar to the way you so endearingly turn your body away from him and puff your cheek out when he’s teased you just a bit too much for your liking.

His hand finds its way back to you again, slower this time — traces over your cheek until he gently cups it in an effort to feel the warmth radiating from your skin. A chuckle almost betrays him and slips out at the sight of your eyes nearly fluttering shut, subconsciously leaning into his touch until you abruptly come back to your senses and swat at his hand.

He smiles at you. “Hm. Your boyfriend — is that right?”

Your eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice, likely wondering why a stranger would be speaking to you so familiarly. “My boyfriend. The one with a suuuper heavy weapon that …. that you probably couldn’t pick up … with help.”

“Ah, how admirable he must be. You have no need for worry — I would never dream of wielding such a weapon.”

You huff before deciding to face the opposite direction, all whilst scooting a secondary inch away from him. Perhaps a third, for extra measure.

“This boyfriend of yours,” he speaks again, holding back a chuckle when you dramatically sigh at the sound of his voice once again, “surely he wouldn’t mind someone like myself keeping you company until he returns, wouldn’t you think?”

“I have grown quite curious. Perhaps he would allow me to see this impressive weapon for myself.”

— MYDEI.

“Actually, you’re rather comfy, stranger.”

Mydei only huffs in response before glancing over his shoulder from where you’re draped over his left like a sack of potatoes, quickly confirming that … as of now, you still seem content, at least.

“I’ve told you before. I’m no stranger.” The singular arm currently holding your thighs to his chest tightens, and you only giggle against his back, arms freely dangling beneath you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You’ve been surprisingly cooperative. In fact, he thinks he should make a mental note to remind you about being less trusting of strangers tomorrow — because .. surely, it should not have been so easy to convince you that he could simply carry you to your ‘boyfriend.’

Even now, when he’s seemingly been reduced to nothing aside from a mere stranger, you’re as inviting and friendly to him as ever — mumbling something about his strength, followed by a worried “Hey but — let me know if you get tired or anything, okay?”

So, he lets you talk, opting to silently listen to you ramble on about your day (aside from the occasional glances over his shoulder to check on you). It’s only when he hears a sudden shift in your voice that he stiffens.

“Say…” you start, drawing patterns along his back with a finger, as if nervous about his response. “Do you think Mydei’s worried?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” he lets you continue, eyes shifting back to the path ahead of him. “What do you think, strong stranger? He won’t be mad, right? Or sad, maybe?”

He huffs. “No. He wouldn’t be mad. Not at you.”

— PHAINON.

“Oh.” You hug your knees in disappointment to let out another heavy sigh, one far too telling of your emotions — practically seeping back into your lonely puddle when you realize that this person who had found you in your corner was also in fact… not your boyfriend.

“‘Oh?’ Well, someone doesn’t sound very excited to see me.”

The stranger decides to approach you anyway, taking a seat on the tiles beside you before letting out an exhale himself, back of his head coming to lightly rest against the wall. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmph,” you leer at him from where your head is halfway buried in your arms, knees hugged tightly against your chest. “I wanted to see my boyfriend, not some random person. I’m tired, y’know.”

“Your boyfriend? How strange.” The confusion starts to leave his face the longer he looks at you — lips curling ever so slightly at the idea that suddenly comes to mind.

“He must be cruel … to leave you here all by yourself.”

He almost slips and calls you cute when you stick an arm out to weakly jab a finger into his shoulder, turning your head to the side again to mutter a “Hey. He’s not cruel.”

Truly too cute — the way your eyes have narrowed into something resembling a glare — the same one you always give him whenever you scold him for being too careless. Though, it tends to fade as soon as it comes, replaced with soft kisses against the crown of his head as you lull him back to sleep.

“Aw,” He’s smiling now, “You’re certain he’s not cruel?”

“Obviously I’m certain,” You huff, ignoring the way he seems to look happier at this and hugging your knees even tighter against your chest. “I like being around him. A whole lot, actually.”

The way his eyes begin to soften at your (unintentional) affection most definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you, he’s sure, nor the way his hand twitches — wanting nothing but to extend in your direction to pull you in for a hug. Though, luckily enough for him, you’ve settled on resting your head in the comfort of your own arms again, oblivious to the lovesick one seated beside you.

“I’ll make sure to tell him again … when I see him. So let me be, you weird stranger.”

— SUNDAY.

If someone happened to be wondering whether a halovian’s wings flap awkwardly when rendered completely speechless — this would be their golden opportunity to witness it firsthand.

“M-my apologies,” his wings flutter again, then a third time when your hand only tightens around his wrist, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “Please excuse me. I was only checking for your temperature, since you seem to be rather…”

“No.” You don’t let go. In fact, you hold onto him as if you’ve just now captured a crook attempting to steal March’s snacks.

“..Forgive me,” his eyes flicker from your hand to your eyes — then back to your hand. As if there may be a slim chance that you’ve simply forgotten about the ironclad grip on his wrist and would release him from his confinement, soon. Surely. “Then perhaps I should go get you a glass of wa—”

“No.”

“…”

“I… I see.” The nervous flutter of his wings shifts to something more sheepish — one wing moving to cover his mouth, as if deep in thought. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth, for even someone such as himself is left dumbfounded by your current behavior. “Then.. is there anything you’d like for me to help with? Someone like March may be better suited for..”

“My boyfriend…” he falls silent as soon as you speak, noting the softness of your words now — barely above a hushed whisper (though the familiarity has him quickly perking up in response). “I want my boyfriend.”

His head tilts at this. Subtly. Truly confused — and even more so when your brows furrow only a second later, followed by a tug on his wrist. “I want my boyfriend.”

“You’re stuck with me until we find my boyfriend.”

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Prince Charming

Old Man Logan X F!Reader

Plot: He's really no Prince Charming, but he is to you, and you'll treat him like one too.

A/N: I really just wanted to write old man Logan being taken care of...and also being a little softer because he had someone taking care of him...I just want to give him a hug (and other things...)

Warnings: Smut (18+ only!!), Oral (M recieving), Fluff too!! reader gives Logan a massage (in more ways than one ;) ) pet names like princess and baby used, reader loves Logan a lot, a small section of angst but not really?

Word Count: 2401

Soft jazz played in the background as candlelight flickers against the wall of your…bedroom- if you could call it that. Curtains pulled over large windows, fluffy rugs on the floor, a few pieces of furniture placed carefully around the room, with pictures and decorations and a lamp that gave the room a warm, soft lighting- creating an inviting atmosphere that was nothing but welcoming and cozy. The sound of a shower running in the background added to the relaxing atmosphere that you managed to create inside of a smelting plant. 

So, was living in an abandoned factory what you imagined you would be doing when you grew up? Not exactly; especially considering you’d always wanted a castle… an old smelting plant can be kinda like a castle, right?

But, did you get that ‘prince charming’ you always dreamed of?

Well…maybe not everyone would call him Prince Charming…

But you did. Handsome, brave, intelligent. He was someone you’d always dreamed of sweeping off your feet and he did exactly that. Your Prince Charming has adamantium bones, lived over 200+ years (he probably met your great grandfather!), and is the crankiest motherfucker some days when there’s rain coming and his old metal bones get a little rusty and needed oiling like Tin man from Wizard of Oz (Did he see that when it first came out in 1939?). You adored him, and everything else was noise. 

Maybe Charles questioned your taste in men one time when he was feeling a little moody- but what does he know? He had a situationship with a guy who controls metal, and was, by the way, a bit of a nut.

You were curled up in your shared bed reading a book. When you first moved in- and eventually began sleeping in a shared bed, his bed had torn sheets, flat pillows, and a blanket that barely covered his large figure. He didn’t necessarily see an issue with that- but once you surprised him with memory foam pillows, silk bed sheets, and a huge soft duvet, he quickly changed his tune. He’d come home from a long night at work, collapse into the bed, and his aching bones would melt into the mattress as he’d fall asleep almost immediately, you’d wake up in the night- tucking him in at your side and kiss him on the cheek, and go back to sleep.

That’s what you did, you took care of him all the ways he didn’t take care of himself.

You heard the shower turn off, and in a moment Logan came in, towel wrapped low around his hips, his hair wet on his forehead, and he pushed the wet strands back as he walked to the dresser that sat parallel to the bed. You bit your lip as you admired his figure, watching water dripping down his hairy chest and abs, as your eyes trailed down to the prominent vein that disappeared below the hem of the towel, curse that towel.

“I did your laundry today-” You informed him, snapping out of your lustful state, and he looked at you, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and a warm smile came across his face.  

“Thanks princess.” He says in a low voice, walking over to you and leaning over to give you a peck on the lips- something you happily returned, settling on your knees to meet him halfway. He groaned as he attempted to straighten back out.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, hand going to his back, “Back s’just killing me from sitting in that damn car all the time.” 

You look at him sympathetically, when an idea strikes your head. You crawl backward and patted the bed. “C'mon, lay down.” You say. He raised a brow, unsure of what you wanted, 

“Feeling frisky baby?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes- but you couldn’t help your smile. Maybe you were, but that wasn’t what you were planning. Yet. 

Shaking your head, you patted the bed again, “Lay on your belly. Off with the towel too” You say. He gave you a questioning look once more, but eventually obliged. You were never one to do something he wouldn’t have enjoyed anyway. He dropped the towel, giving you a nice view of his member, before he climbed onto the bed, and landing on his stomach; He wrapped his arms around a pillow, face planting into it as he waited for you to do whatever shenanigan you were planning for him. You smiled at his resting figure, reaching over to pinch one of his buttocks

“Ay!” He growled. You giggled, holding your hands up to show you wouldn’t do it again, and returned to your task. 

Reaching over, you grabbed your favorite scented lotion, before moving to straddle his back, around his waist. He let out a soft groan, not because of the weight of you- it was slightly comforting to have the pressure of you there, relieving some tense muscles over where you sat. 

Flipping the cap of the lotion off, you squeezed a generous amount onto your hands, clasping them and rubbing the lotion into them, before you placed your hands on Logan's shoulders. You gasped at just how knotted and tense they felt- you’d think the shower would have loosened him up a bit…

He let out a small groan as you pushed and pulled at the muscles in his shoulder, slowly- but surely, you began to loosen the knots as you massaged the lotion into his skin. Using different techniques, like rubbing your thumbs in circles in various spots- that really made him groan, something that sounded almost erotic. You grinned, as your hands moved down to his shoulder blades and upper back.

“Keep moaning like that and even Caliban and Charles will hear you.” You comment, he grunted.

“Let em, I don’t care.” He mutters into his pillow, turning his head so you could understand him. A small giggle escaped you, as you continued your ministrations over his back, palming at tense points and working at his large muscles, thumbs pressing into knots and loosening them, you ran your nails up and down his back- scratching the skin that sent shivers through his whole body. 

You admired the scars on his skin; as you felt every ridge and bump as you ran your hands over his back and up his arms. You knew it wasn’t a good thing, that he doesn’t quite heal like he used to. You still saw them as a part of him, a beautiful part of him that made him a survivor, that kept him alive and kept him coming back to you. You didn’t know how close it would be before those wounds couldn’t heal up, when he may not make it home. You weren’t one to worry about the future though- not when he was here with you now, and you could take care of him the way he deserved. 

You worked him over for an hour, and at one point you were pretty sure he fell asleep, waking up after and claiming he didn’t fall asleep. You sat up on your knees, and gently pat his side, urging him to now roll on his back, which he does so in a slow movement. 

“That was great baby.” He muttered, his eyes half-lidded, and his large hands moved to rest on your thighs that hugged his waist as you sat back to straddle his waist. You smiled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, pressing your hands to his chest. 

“I’m not done yet.” You say softly, kissing the tip of his nose, and then his lips. Your hands smoothed down his chest and over his stomach, your fingers twining through his coarse chest hair. You ran your nails down the skin- making his stomach flex in reaction and you grinned. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks at the sight of your amusement. You smiled down at him and nodded, before moving your hips- grinding against him. Something serious came across his face, as his hands began to squeeze your thighs, leaving dimples in the skin. You rolled your hips again, and you could feel him getting harder underneath you. “So you were just getting frisky hm?”

“I’m just taking care of you Lo-” You say innocently, fluttering your eyelashes at him, you wiggle your hips down, shuffling down his body, where you start pressing kisses over his chest. Your eyes looked up at him as you ran a tongue over his nipple, eliciting a muffled groan as he tightened his jaw, and squeezed his eyes shut, chest rising and falling as he felt anticipation surge through him at every touch you pressed on him. You moved down his stomach, reaching the vein you were staring at earlier, sticking your tongue out, you licked down it- right to his pelvis, and he let out a shaky breath.

You felt slick between your legs at the sound of Logan becoming worked up. He always acts like the boss, the protector, and the provider. The moment you go down on him though, treating him like the prince you saw him as he melts in your arm like putty, appreciating the soft tenderness you give him, and the care you take to make sure everything feels good for him- that he enjoyed you the way you enjoy him. It turned you on hearing what you do to him.

“You’re something else, princess…” He mutters under his breath. You grinned against his skin, as you took in the smell of him, he smelled of cedar and whiskey, the scent of a soap you got him a while back. You bit the skin of his pelvis, making him thrust forward with a groan, as you soothe it over with your tongue. Your hands continued running up and down his belly, as you finally made contact with his erect member. You licked your lips as you sized him up. He was large, the prominent vein from his stomach traveling up to a swollen red tip that leaked a generous amount of precum- beautiful

Logan was an old man, but you never had trouble getting him up. 

Planting yourself between his legs on your belly, you kicked your legs playfully behind you as you took his member in your hand, tapping his tip against your lips, before sticking your tongue out, licking the vein from the bottom of his shaft to the top, as your other hand fondled his balls. He groaned. 

“You like playing with me don’t ya princess?” He rasped, sitting himself up on his elbows so he could get a nice view of you and watch as you took care of him.

You smiled sinfully up at him, and you felt his cock twitch in your hand. His lips parted as he took you in before him, his eyes full of lust. “I’m just helping you not be so tense baby.” You cooed, beginning to stroke his member up and down, he tipped his head back, as you began stroking faster, before taking his tip between your lips, swirling around him and moaning at the taste of him on your tongue. You never truly enjoyed the taste of someone until you met him, and some days it felt like you couldn’t get enough. 

His hand went to your cheek, carefully caressing it- before reaching to pull your hair out of your face- holding it back for you as you worked over him. 

“Look at you darling, so damn pretty…How’d an old man like me get someone like you?” He muttered. You took him deeper into your mouth, slowly working your tongue around him, as spit began to dribble down your chin as you messily sucked him off. He moaned, his hips moving forward, his length going deeper into your mouth, his tip nearly at the back of your throat. You knew he was getting desperate, eager- just barely holding back from shoving you down on him and forcing you to take him completely. You moaned at the thought, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, you feel so good, princess.” He breathed, his voice losing that deep timber, wavering- signaling to you that he was getting closer. 

Your hands braced against his thighs, as you took him in fully down your throat, gagging a bit before you force yourself to swallow, allowing you to bob up and down on his throbbing cock without as much trouble. His hand that held your hair back set the desired pace as he brought you back up to his tip, and down the base, where your eyes began to water, as his very hairy crotch tickled your nose. He was panting, and you now let him take over, as spit covered you chin and his cock, he began thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You felt his thighs begin to shake, and he was cursing under his breath before finally pulling you down over him- head tipped back, a loud curse escaping him, and you felt hot spurts of his cum going down your throat. The pure sight of him was enough to make your legs shake, your stomach tensing as small spasms of an orgasm ran through your body. He let go of your hair, body shaky as you continued to suck him until he rode through his orgasm, and pulled off of him with a pop. You licked your lips, wiping your chin off of the spit. 

He fell back onto the bed, a groan escaping him as he brought his hand up to his face, running it down.

“Fuck princess, you’re something else.” He mutters, and you clambered over him, giving him a sweet kiss. “I love you.” He says softly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. 

“Love you too honey.” You purred, kissing his cheek and then his jaw, before curling into his side, his arms wrapping around you. “You feel better?”

“Much.” He mutters, and you could hear he was falling asleep, making you smile. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

You hummed. “Not a favor Lo. I like taking care of you.”

You felt the small exhale of his chest, and you knew it was an exhale of relief. One where he is silently asking, “What did I do to deserve you?” and you knew simply that all it was, was that he was your prince- and you were his princess. 

[justhereforsubsevika]

I feel like drunk sevika is a total hornbag loser

She'll stumble into your house with a wobbly smirk across her lips, trying to look sexy by body rolling awkwardly. To no music. In the middle of the room. You just sigh.

"Im not fucking you when you're like this Sevi."

She'll whine and babble drunkenly about how she's "sosexy though!" and how you dont love her anymore. She'll trip over nothing as she goes to the bedroom. You follow, just to make sure she doesn't accidentally fall and kill herself.

Sometimes she passes out the moment she hits the bed, other times she'll grab her vibrator and press it on to herself.

"How did you even get naked that quickly?" you'll laugh, Sevika slurring something about ripping her clothes off like the alpha wolf in the moonlight.

"Liketha' meme, mememememememe, meme you send'ome aaaall the time. Im tha' wolf. He'sme."

If shes drunk enough she'll start admitting all her secrets, how she already touched herself in the bathrooms of the last drop because someone had a similar perfume to you. "Couldn' stop thinkin' abyou."

And because she's so wasted, she has no control over the sounds she makes. She sounds so girly and cute when she turns up the vibrator, her hands shaking. She'll pout up at you to touch her. You don't, of course, because she's so gone that she probably wont even remember what she's doing until you tease her for it tomorrow. But you might touch yourself to the sight of her.

You hate to admit it, but this is Sevika at her most sexy. Because she's so much freer, not tethered by the pressure to keep up her hard exterior, not caring about anything but needing to get off. You rub your clit under your pajamas and whine at all of Sevika's sounds. They're so cute when she's like this.

She'll cum screaming, slurring out any little words her dumb brain can think of, her pretty neck exposed as she throws her head back, her abs contracting. She will often overstimulate herself by accident when she's like this, looking at you for help. But she just looks so cute, and youre so close to finishing, you can't help but watch her squirm a little longer.

When you're done she'll beg to eat your pussy, which you refuse with some reluctance. But she's hammered. She doesn't know what shes doing. You cant fuck her like this. Even if she is adorable, she's still drunk as all hell.

She'll beg and beg, and eventually you stick your fingers into your pussy and let her suck on them. She'll smile all wobbly, thanking you before passing out.

You'll clean her up as she sleeps, taking off her makeup and clearing her thighs of her mess, discarding yet another outfit that was victim to alpha wolf sevika.

She'll hum and pull you into her chest when you lay down next to her. Her breath is POTENT with alcohol so you turn your head away, but you wrap your legs around her thigh and sleep happily nonetheless.

Drunk sevika is so sweet to me

[juudesgirl]

soulmates - jude bellingham

“a soulmate is someone who challenges you to do better, someone who can’t stand seeing you sad, someone who stays faithful, loyal and committed to you, someone who helps take care of you when you’re sick, someone who stands by your side through the good days and the bad days and someone who wants to grow old and grey with you”

if jude could picture the perfect person, it would be you. from the moment he had laid eyes on you, he knew you were something special.

you had met him through one of your friends, it had been your friends’ birthday and they had thrown a party to celebrate. after 5 minutes of arriving, you had bumped into jude navigating your way through the swarm of people at the party. as soon as your eyes locked, jude had been captivated by your beauty.

the way your doe eyes lit up, the blush formed on your cheeks by the heat of the room and the bright smile on your face as you looked at him, made his stomach do somersaults. he hadn’t seen anyone as beautiful as you, he knew he had to speak to you. throughout the night, you both were stuck by each others’ side all night - laughing at eachothers’ silly jokes, laughing at the semi-drunk people around you, it couldn’t of been a more perfect night.

you had exchanged numbers before leaving the party, as soon as you left, jude had messaged you straight away asking if you had enjoyed the party and if you had gotten home safely. from then, you kept contact with eachother regularly.

-

to say jude was obsessed with you, was definitely an understatement. whether it was at training or speaking to his family or one of his friends, he’d always mention you in his conversations - he couldn’t help it, he was reminded of you wherever or whatever he was doing, it was like you were stuck in his mind. jude wanted to be around you whether it calling you, texting you or seeing you, he just loved the feeling of you being in his life. jude loved spending time with you, even if it was just the both of you sitting down doing absolutely nothing, he enjoyed it. you were one of the few people who he felt safe and happy with, you were his person and he adored the hell out of you.

jude was one of those people that no matter what, always made you feel special. he’d always surprise you with getting your favourite flowers delivered to your house if he wasn’t around to show and let you know that no matter where he was, he was thinking of you and that he was missing you, he always wanted to show you the affection that you deserved. even after a tough training session, he’d stop by to see you. you loved being around jude, and he loved being around you, you both were like a breath of fresh air to eachother no matter how long you’d been seeing eachother.

as time went on, jude had started to fall for you more and more each day, he couldn’t help but not too. jude had mentioned you to his family, always praising you and telling them how much you meant to him, and how excited he was for them to meet you. family is an important factor in jude’s life, so to have you all together, would be so important to him. his family especially his little brother jobe, were happy for jude to have finally found someone, especially someone who’s been able to bring the spark back into his life - they were excited to meet you.

“you know there’s no one else I’d rather be with other than you? you really do make every day worth living and i enjoy spending any bit of time I have with you” jude said to while standing outside of your house, dropping you off after another successful date.

“i love spending time with you too jude. i haven’t met someone like you who makes me laugh so much or makes me feel so comfortable before” you gushed, while brushing your hand on his cheek, while his hands found your waist and pulled you close.

“i feel the same y/n, you’ve made me the happiest i’ve felt in a very long time. there’s never not a time where i’m not thinking when i’ll see you again or thinking about you. i just want to be with you all the time, i just want you around all the time. so i was wondering if you wanna be my girlfriend?” jude said nervously. you could tell he was nervous, the grip he had on your waist had loosened and he begun to chew bottom lip as he waited for your answer. “i understand i-if you say n-no it is too soon and i-” he started once again before you interrupted him with a beaming smile.

“aw jude, of course i want to be your girlfriend. you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for you to ask me” you said giggling while putting your arms around his neck softly.

jude laughed softly before he pulled you into a soft hug. his head instantly fell the crook of your neck and he began to place soft and delicate kisses on your neck as you hugged. liking the softness of his kisses along your neck, you decided to tilt your head back and to enjoy the feeling more. he placed a few more on your neck, before pulling away and leaning his head onto yours which made stand up onto your tiptoes before kissing him softly. you both sighed happily into the kiss, very thankful for this sweet moment and how excited you were to be jude’s girlfriend.

as you and jude kissed, he begun to think about how his life has changed dramatically so quickly. he always knew you were special, and sometimes he joked but seriously thought you was his guardian angel. once upon a time, he was in the most dark and fragile time of his life. he didn’t think that he’d be able to come back after the hard times at all. then you came along into his life unexpectedly, protected and guided him throughout the journey and helped him to feel like him again.

jude couldn’t help but fall in love with you, as everything shattered, you came along and picked all the pieces up and fixed it. jude was finally as happy as he could be; all because of you, because you saved him and knew from the moment he met you, you were soulmates and you’d find eachother in every lifetime no matter where you guys were.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

───୨ৎ praise that old man, girl!

a/n: i adore Stanley Pines and apparently im not alone because the amount of asks i got for nsfw with this man?? who am i to deny the people what they want?? also one anon asked for public sex with Stanley sooo here you go angel!

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal and oral sex (f receiving), age gap, dirty talk, older man/younger woman, degradation + praise, size kink, dumbification, public sex, rough sex, breeding kink

You hadn’t exactly walked into the Mystery Shack with dreams of employment. Stan had hired you on the spot, half-serious when he said he couldn’t afford to be picky. “you got a pulse? can count to ten? good, you’re in,” while shoving a broom into your hands.

You’d been working here for a while now and Stanley Pines had somehow, against all reason, taken a liking to you. You weren’t like the other employees, you were sarcastic and always ready with a quick comeback. It didn’t take long for Stan to notice and he loved the fact that you didn’t take his shit. He loved how you could dish it out just as good as he could.

You genuinely liked your work. The old place had its charm and Stan, despite his grumpy act, was actually funny in his own way.

You were sharp, quick with the same kind of deadpan humor Stan wielded like a weapon. when tourists asked the weirdest and dumbest questions as “how does this yeti paw feel so real?”, you’d shrug and go, “oh, Mr. Pines wrestled the guy for it last spring! you should’ve seen him in the ring.”

And somehow, your nonsense never grated on him.

He’d grumble about you “driving him crazy,” but the truth was, he admired how you handled people, how you could spin up a lie on the spot and sell it with a sly smirk. Even when you worked him up, you had a knack for knowing how to make him laugh before he could stay mad.

Like the time you’d swapped the “do not touch” signs in the gift shop with ones reading “please steal this.” When Stan stormed out of his office, you barely flinched. “don’t blame me. Soos did it,” you’d said again and he’d folded his arms, sighing.

“Kid, you’re gonna give me an ulcer.”

“Then you’ll get to take a vacation, Mr. Pines.”

You had a way of making him feel younger, somehow. Not just the old man with a bad back and a million regrets. Around you, he felt like the guy who still had a chance to make someone smile. And god, he loved that.

Because, god, you talk back, crack jokes, get in his face with that stupid grin of yours. And he knows you know how to get under his skin. It’s annoying and hilarious at the same time.

You’re a disaster of a worker. He’ll admit that to anyone, but for some reason, Stan forgives you. every time. “who did this? who messed up the brochures?” and you always say the same thing “Soos.”

And fuck, he adores it, the way you lie so easily and confidently. He's not mad, but charmed by it. And maybe a little turned on too, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

“You know, i should fire you, right?”

“Yeah, but you won’t, cause i’m too cute, Mr. Pines.”

Stan had wanted to stay mad, but how could he? Every time you messed up, he found a way to let it slide, not because you were good at covering your tracks, but because you always knew just what to say, how to make him forget the shit you’d done. You made it all worth it.

The pick-up lines started a few weeks in. At first, they were awful, so bad that you’d nearly die of secondhand embarrassment. “you must be tired, ‘cause you’ve been running through my mind all day, doll,” he'd say with a lazy wink. and, of course, you’d always have something ready: “you should probably take a nap then, Mr. Mystery, you’re getting old.”

The first time Stanley tried to flirt with you, he didn’t know how it’d feel. He was always smooth, always had a line ready, but it always went wrong with you. “you know, i must be a snowflake ‘cause i’m falling for you.” but before he could even get the whole line out, you shot back, “snowflakes melt. Is that really how you want to end up?”

He’d blink, caught off guard, then chuckle. “smartass.”

But Stan, the bastard, he loved that about you.

He loved how you never pretended to be anything you weren’t. No frilly nonsense or sugar-coating, just honest humor that reminded him of his own shitty jokes. You didn’t back down, never tiptoed around him, and he couldn’t even be mad when you lied about the mess-ups.

His flirts were always the same, predictable, corny, but somehow, Stan delivered them with the precision of a seasoned performer. He would laugh at your attempts to flirt back what made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “you’re cute when you’re trying to be a romantic,” you say as you lean against the counter with a teasing grin. “but i’m still gonna need a drink to believe you.”

Stanley grew bolder though. “if I were a few years younger. . .”

“You’d still be a pervert?”

“Nah, just a smooth talker, toots,” he’d grin, trailing his fingers over a stack of papers as you walked past, brown eyes never leaving you

The more you two exchanged these ridiculous lines, the more the tension built. The fake flirting, the dumb compliments, it was a game to both of you and neither of you could stop playing.

The shack is empty, just for now. It's an early morning in Gravity Falls, the aroma of coffee that Stan insisted on brewing too strong fills the air. He was at the counter, organising some brochures for the tours, his usual tourist-trap grin nowhere to be found yet.

Tourists haven’t arrived yet.

You were running a little late today, again. Not that Stanley really cared, but he always pretended to. The man was predictable like that. By now, you’d learned that his bark was worse than his bite, though sometimes, you didn’t mind the idea of getting a little bitten.

You walk into the Shack with coffee in one hand and bag slung over your shoulder, the creak of the floorboards greeting you. Stan was leaning against the counter when you came, scribbling something on his clipboard, his back turned to you. And that’s when you saw it.

He wasn’t wearing his girdle and it was impossible not to notice the soft swell of his stomach beneath his shirt.

Fuck. You swallow hard, trying to act normal, but there’s no stopping the heat pooling low in your belly. Mr. Pines, all thick and broad, strong arms, messy morning hair, his belly curving under his chest, that's just too much

And while anyone else might have held back, might’ve thought better of sneaking up on their boss, you didn’t hesitate. The moment you saw him, your lips curled into a smirk.

He hasn’t noticed you yet.

Stepping closer, your let your hands slide over his clothes until your palms rested against the warm curve of his belly. He jumps immediately, his hand jerking across the paper, leaving a thick, jagged line of ink.

“What the— hey! what’re you doin’, kid?!”

“Just admiring my boss?” you grin wider, leaning into him.

Another grumpy “pfft. yeah, right.” comes your way when Stan moves to brush your hands away, but you just dig your fingers in harder, letting your breasts press against his back.

“You’ve been hiding this from me all this time? What a shame.”

His face burns instantly, bright red flushing up his neck. “dammit, don’t go grabbin’ me like that! i’m too old for—”

“Oh, come on,” you cut him off, crowding him against the counter. “you’re not too anything. in fact,” your fingers dip just slightly below his beltline, teasing. “i think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Perfect? hah, are you outta your damn mind? Look at me! I’m no spring chicken, alright? i’ve got—”

“Got what, Mr. Pines?” you interrupt. “nice body?” your nails scrape lightly against your boss, earning a shaky exhale from him. “i like it. a lot.”

“Cut it out, kid, this ain’t the kinda body women go crazy for. You’re wastin’ your time”

You frown. “says who?”

He huffs in embarrassment. “C’mon, you've seen it. I'm too old and- and uh, rough around the edges?”

“Damn, exactly what i like,” his whole body stiffens under your touch. “big strong hands, broad chest and this belly, i want all of it, Mr. Pines.”

“You got a filthy mouth, y’know.”

“Oh, i had a good teacher.” you giggle, feeling him already getting hard. “you ever been touched like this, Mr. Pines?”

Stan exhales hard, irritated and flustered. “‘course I have, don’t talk like I’m some goddamn virgin.”

“Thats not what i meant.” your nails scrape, dragging slow over his belly, over the dips and curves.

He tries to change the tactics then. “listen, sweetie, i’m too old for this shit, alright? you- you deserve some young, pretty guy who—“

“Who what? who doesn’t look half as good as you? who can’t make me laugh the way you do? who doesn’t make me want to do this? i like it thick, broad, strong. You could just throw me around and have your way with me, Mr. Pines.”

Stanley fucking stops breathing. Hes hesitating because he doesn’t want to admit he’s just as fucking hungry for this as you are.

He runs a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep his composure. “You- you’re crazy, y’know that?” but you always knew how to get under his skin.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t here to keep you on your toes.” your fingertips graze his bulge once more and that's it. Stan’s breath stutters in his throat.

“Hot belgium waffles, you better be serious, sweetheart.” he’s already turning, crowding you against the counter, gripping your waist, your hips, your ass.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” you gasp after you say the last word when he palms your tits, kneads them roughly.

“You wanna be fucked like that? like a real man oughta do it?” he leans closer to your face. You nod too eagerly and Stan doesn’t waste a second “we better make this quick,” while his fingers already yanking at your clothes, dragging you onto the counter, pressing his mouth to yours.

Quick. Ha.

Stan kisses like he’s trying to eat you alive, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moan, grinding against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing into your stomach

You should have known better. Should’ve known better than to touch him like that, to let your fingers linger on the soft curve of his belly as he stood there, all unbuttoned and exposed. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because the moment your hands landed there, the pull was too strong, and you knew that if you didn’t take it now, you’d burn up inside.

“You sure you want this, baby? ‘cause once i start, i’m not stoppin.” you nod, gasping for breath, and that’s all he needs. “good, i’ve been holding back long enough.” he gropes you, touches you everywhere, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” your bra is barely on you before he’s palming your tits, squeezing rough, thumbing your nipples, watching them peak.

He licks his lips, then leans down and latches on. Wet, sucking, pulling noises fill the Shack. You arch, whimper, push into his mouth and he groans. “needy little thing, ain’t ya?” he switches breasts, drags his tongue over the swell, teeth scraping before sucking your nipple into his mouth, rolling it, flicking it.

Stanley Pines, despite his gruff exterior, is a sweaty mess in front of you. A man that had given up, probably, on ever being seen as sexy. That’s what made it so deliciously easy to shatter him. To break that cold shell. Because he didn’t see it, did he? He didn’t see how much his body, his age, even his wrinkles, didn’t matter to you. You just want him to feel it. You want him to feel desired, so badly.

“Fucking hell, yer driving me insane, toots.”

You laugh breathlessly. “don’t be so dramatic, old man. You’re tougher than you look.”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one,” he growls as he pushes you back against the counter, gripping your thighs.

His mouth is on you again, kissing down your neck, biting, his tongue leaving hot scorching wet trails that fill your stomach with butterflies. You grind against him, feeling the press of his cock through his pants.

“You want this, huh? want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in?”

“Yes, i need you, Mr. Pines.” your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Stanley presses his thick fingers against your underwear, circling your throbbing clit through your panties, drawing soft sounds from your lips.

“Already so wet. Hell, you’re gonna take me so good, aren’t ya? this tight little pussy’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You moan, your head falling back, your body arching against him as he works you with his fingers faster, harder.

“Please, please, please, need you!” then, out of the blue, or maybe because you're too lost to even care so you'd mumble everything that comes out of your mouth, you quietly admit. “Mr. Pines, f-fuck, ive touched myself to the thought of you—”

Stanley looks at you. “say that again.”

“I've thought about you, i fingered myself imagining it was your cock.” you say quietly, looking at him with little hearts in your puppy eyes.

“Jesus christ, you filthy little thing.”

“Stan—”

“Mr. Pines.” fuck. the way he corrects you, heat coils in your stomach, between your legs. “You wanna get fucked good, you use the right name.”

“M-Mr. Pines—fuck, please—” his fingers press harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit.

“Soaked. And i ain’t even touched you yet.” you whine, pressing into his hands, your hips twitching. And that bastard laughs. “poor thing, you really need it, huh? sweetie, you’re lucky i’m not makin’ you beg for it.” yet, he forgot to add.

You’re about to retort, but then his fingers slide your panties to the side, spreading your folds, dragging through your wet slit.

“Fuck, baby, dripping all over my fingers.”

“N-need you—”

“Aw, yeah? that so?” he pushes a finger in your pussy so fucking slow, savouring the way your little cunt takes his thick digit, already imagining how perfect it'd be with his cock instead. “tight angel, fuck, so tight.” Stan manhandles you roughly, spreading your legs with his hands, kneeling in front of you, about to devour you whole. You feel his hot breath against your core and when he leans in and his tongue finally licks a long, slow stripe through your folds, you swear you see stars.

“Taste even better than i thought,” he groans, voice muffled against your pussy. His big hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking like a man starved.

“Mr. Pines—oh my g-god—” Stanley keeps grunting and moaning, the vibration sending shocks through your body.

“Fuck, keep sayin’ my name like that. Can’t get enough of you, doll.” his warm tongue flicks your swollen clit and he slides two fingers into you, curling them, scissoring. Your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down with one arm across your stomach. “Stay still, princess, let me take care of you.”

You’re already close and he knows it, his fingers pumping into you faster, his mouth relentless on your clit. You fall over the edge with a cry, your thighs trembling as he works you through it, fingers still moving, tongue still teasing, until you’re begging him to stop from overstimulation, tugging his hair. Stanley pulls back, lips and chin glistening and grins like the filthy bastard he is. “cant believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.”

He stands, towering over you and you reach for him, fumbling with his belt. When the metal buckle clinks loudly in the quiet of the Shack, Stanley impatiently shoves his pants down to free himself.

Your gaze drops and your eyes widen. Jesus christ.

“Like what you see?”

“I’d be stupid not to,” you grin, reaching out to wrap your fingers around him, making him curse under his breath, his hips jerking into your hand as he grabs your wrist, guiding you to pump his hard length slowly.

But you two don't have much time so he holds your panties aside with one hand, lining himself up with the other and with a single thrust, Stan buries himself inside you, stretching you so perfectly it makes your vision blur.

“Fuck,” his hands grip your hips so hard you were sure there will be bruises. “you’re so fuckin’ tight and warm. Goddamn, sweetheart.”

Your response breaks off into a whimper as he starts moving, slow at first to let you get used, his hips rolling into yours smoothly.

“That’s it, take it, baby, all of me.” you let out a soft moan, looking down where you both connected and he grins, pressing his hand against your stomach, where the outline of him bulged beneath your skin. “look at that, i’m so fuckin’ deep, i can feel myself here. You feel it, baby? feel me stretchin’ ya open?”

You nod frantically, your head spinning with every relentless thrust as he stretches you in ways you didn’t think possible. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, your body arching against him as he sets a brutal pace, driving into you over and over again.

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin' an old bastard like me ruin ya.”

You can only nod, your needy voice lost to the pleasure as youre getting fucked that good, right here in the Shack, where anyone could walk in.

He’s watching you, watching your pussy stretch around his fat cock, watching the way you tremble. His big hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, forcing you to take all of him.

“Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this before, huh?” he slams into you again, making the counter creak beneath you. Using his strong hands he keeps you in place as his cock drives in and out of your dripping, swollen cunt.

“C'mon, answer me, baby,” he growls, his hand sliding up to grab your jaw, forcing your glazed-over eyes to meet his. His cock buries deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. ”didn’t ask for silence. you ever been fucked like this before?”

Your eyes are closed as you shake your head, whimpering. “n-no.”

“No, what?”

"N-no one’s ever fucked me like this, Mr. Pines—”

“Good girl, use your words,” Stan grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. “tell me how much you love this cock.”

“S-so much,” you manage to choke out between pathetic whines and mewls, your brain turning into useless mess. “i love it, i love you, Mr. Pines, don’t stop!” tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Poor thing, all those boys before me and none of ‘em knew how to stretch this perfect cunt open right.” he shifts his hips, grindings his cock against your walls, making you sob. “bet they didn’t even know how to fuck you proper, huh? didn’t know how to make ya beg?”

You shake your head and gasp, clinging to him.

His hand slides down your body, rough fingers rubbing over your swollen, sensitive clit. “owwh, they never even made ya cum, did they, sweetheart?”

“No, they didn’t, Mr. Pines.”

“Fuckin’ shame. all those useless boys, never knew what they were missin’.” his thumb circles your clit. “but don't worry, this pussy’s mine now, ya hear me? No one else’s. I’m the only one who can fuck ya like this, make ya feel this good.”

“Mr. Pines, ple-please. . .’

“Please what, sugar?” he pants, fucking you so deep you swear you feel him rearranging your insides.

You sob, tears spilling from your pretty eyes. “p-please, make me cum—” Stan doesn’t let up, not even for a second. His cock is buried so deep inside you that you can barely breathe and think, barely do anything but moan and take it like the filthy little thing you are.

“Aw, baby, you gonna cum already? just from my cock stretchin’ ya open like this?” you nod, your body tightening around him. “fuck, that’s right, sweetheart, squeeze me just like that. Never thought i’d get to ruin somethin’ so perfect.” his pace picks up, his cock pounding into you so hard you’re sure the counter’s going to break.

You were supposed to keep it quick. just a little pre-tour fuck as you both said.

But thirty minutes turned into sixty and sixty turned into absolute depravity.

The counter was first, but then Stan couldn’t stop. His cock is buried deep inside your soaked, needy cunt as his hands hold you while he thrusts into you.

"Fuckin’ christ, doll, this pussy’s gonna be the death of me."

You had your legs around his waist, arms locked around his neck, Stanley fucking into you so deep you felt like you’d pass out. But then he lifted you up, didn’t even bother pulling out, just carried you like you weighed nothing, still fucking up into you, and took you across the shack like a man possessed.

“Mr. Pines!” and “so good!” were the only words you knew.

“Thought we were keepin’ this quick, huh?” he grunts. “then why the fuck can’t i stop?”

You can’t even answer because your mouth is too busy moaning, gasping, babbling absolute nonsense while he splits you open, every inch pushing against your soft, sensitive walls, stuffing your tight pussy full.

You arch your back, sobbing, because you need it fast again, rough again, animalistic again. And he fucking gives it to you, by grabbing your thighs, folding you in half and absolutely destroying you.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl, letting an old bastard like me ruin this tight little pussy. Even dreamed about this, ugh, layin’ awake at night, fingers buried in that needy little cunt, wishin’ it was me.”

What can you say except loud “yesyesyes!” gasps? However, Stanley is satisfied with that.

“Yeah? bet you’re never gonna want anyone else fuckin’ you again.”

He doesn’t stop. Every display case. Every fake cryptid setup. Even the damn vending machine.

“You're so fuckin’ wet, doll, i could slide into this little cunt with no effort at all.”

Fake exhibits? fucked over them. That fake monster cage? Bent over it. That dusty-ass animatronic Stan managed to steal? yeah, he fucked you right in front of it, hands gripping your ass, hips slamming into yours so hard the damn thing started moving

Stan literally punched it to shut it up.

But did he stop? no.

“Shut the hell up, buddy,” he muttered to the machine, before shoving his cock back inside you and making you scream.

but the final round?

Staff room.

Both of you panting, sweaty, while he takes you from behind, balls slapping against your throbbing clit, the slick sound of skin on skin echoing through the empty Shack.

Or, well, not so empty anymore, because suddenly you hear the honk of a tourist bus outside.

Stan’s head snaps up. “oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—”

His eyes dart to the stupid clock on the wall and he actually freezes for a second.

“We— we were supposed to open, like—shit, twenty minutes ago.”

“So? keep going.” you say lazily under him.

“Oh, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” but does he stop? does he fucking stop?

No, no he does not. Instead, he fucks you harder.

“I'm gonna make this quick, baby, gonna fill you up real nice, then i gotta—fuck—gotta get to work—“

But then— “uh, Mr. Mystery?”

fuck.

Stan’s body locks up and you both freeze. The voice is right outside the door. Stanley lets out the deepest, most exhausted sigh. “Uh, yeah?”

The tourist hums. “sooo i was wondering, when does the tour start? we’ve been waiting outside for a while.”

Stan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “yeah, yeah, uh, give me five minutes, kid, i got, uh, got a bad back today, y'know? just need a second to—uhhh—” you clench around him, tight, so fucking tight and his words cut off in a groan.

He glares at you. you just smirk.

“You okay in there, Mr. Mystery?”

Stan forces his voice steady. “yeah, yeah, just—” he grits his teeth. “just need a minute to stretch it out.” he snaps his hips forward, stuffing his cock back into your cunt, deep and slow, forcing you to feel every thick, throbbing inch

You whimper, just to fuck with him because this old man is so funny when annoyed.

“Fuckin’ hell, stop that.” he growls under his breath at you.

But the tourist won’t leave.

“So, uh, what’s the official policy on taking pictures of the fake exhibits?”

Stan’s eye twitches, his hips jerk forward involuntarily and you let out a choked gasp.

The tourist pauses.

“Mr. Mystery? are you sure you're okay?”

Stan immediately shoves a hand over your mouth. “Told you, just back’s actin’ up, kid.”

The tourist keeps talking.

“What do you think the likelihood is of alien activity in oregon? because personally, i think—”

You clench around him again. Stan chokes on a groan, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries to keep his voice normal.

“Listen, kid, why don’t you, uh, go look at the gift shop or somethin’, huh?”

“Oh, but i wanted to ask about—”

Stan loses it

“NOT NOW, KID. TOUR STARTS IN TEN MINUTES. LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.”

“Ohh. . . Okay?” fucking finally, you hear footsteps and door creaking, that idiot leaving

Stanley slumps forward, forehead against your shoulder.

“Poor Mr. Mystery,” you tease, moving your hips. “just trying to do his job, but this damn girl won’t stop teasing him—”

“Ohhh, you thought you were so fuckin’ cute, huh?” the deep rasp of his voice sends shivers down your spine. His chest is pressed against your back, his weight holding you down while his cock still stuffed inside your ruined cunt. “moanin’ all pretty while i was tryna talk? teasin’ me in front of that dumbass tourist. Makin’ those fuckin’ sounds on purpose. Thought i wouldn’t do somethin’ about it?”

You yelp when his hand grips your hair, yanking your head back just enough to whisper against your ear. “you wanna act like a dumb little slut? then i’m gonna fuck you like one.” after that, Stan pulls out slowly, torturously just to slam back in.

You cry out. No, the sound you make would be better described as pathetic loud whine.

But Stan slaps a hand over your mouth, pressing you into the couch. “uh-uh, pretty, you don’t get to be loud now. you lost that privilege.”

His cock is so deep, stretching your cunt open, filling you completely. Every thrust is hard, brutal, messy, wet. Your pussy clenches around him, sucking him in, greedy for more as you whimper into his big palm. The couch creaks under you, the whole room still eerily silent except for the filthy, wet sounds of him using you.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby? thought you liked teasin’ me. now you can’t even take my cock?” as you nearly fall from the fast rhythm. Stan laughs against your ear. “thought you wanted me to fuckin’ ruin you, huh? turn this sloppy little cunt into my personal fuckhole?”

You can't even moan as Stan snaps his hips up, hitting so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.

“What’s the matter, princess? feelin’ a little too full?” his belly presses against your back, his size overwhelming you, his weight pinning you down, making sure you can’t run from him as he grabs your waist, pulls you back onto him, forces you to take every inch. “ this little cunt’s gonna take every last drop, huh? ‘cause that’s what you are, ain’tcha?”

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your head so he can look in your glassy eyes.

“Say it, sweetie. Tell me what you are.”

Your brows knit together. “m’ your dumb little slut, Mr. Pines. . .m’ made to take your cock—” words come out barely coherent through the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the room.

Damn right. His hand slides down, finding your clit, rubbing it fast. Your body jerks, overstimulated.

“Too much?” his voice is mocking. “too fuckin’ bad, baby. Shoulda thought of that before you started actin’ like a brat.”

You’re already close again, what is it now, your sixth orgasm? Eighth? You shake too hard in his hands as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. make you fuckin’ mine. you want that? lemme hear you beg.”

”P-please. . . ple, mhm. . .hhng . .” your words muffled against his palm.

“Please what?”

“Please—please breed my messy cunt, Mr. Pines—please, please—”

“Holy shit, baby, you want me to breed this little pussy? want me to fill you so full you’ll be drippin’ down your thighs all day?”

You nod frantically and Stanley feels you smile widely against his skin what makes him laugh. Such a dumb slut you are.

“Greedy little thing. y'know i gotta work today, right?” his cock throbs inside you, stuffing you so full you can feel him in your stomach. ”but fuck- fuck, baby, can’t help it.” his hips snap forward, burying himself completely as he cums, making you feel every pulse, every throbbing rope of his hot seed spilling inside you, flooding your pussy.

Your own orgasm hits so hard your vision whites out, your cunt clenching tight, squeezing him, milking him dry.

“Oh, that's it, baby, there it is. Good little slut.” you collapse, trembling, fucked-out and absolutely ruined.

Stan stays inside you, catching his breath, watching as his cum spills out, dripping down your thighs. He leans down, kisses your neck. “gonna clean you up, sweetheart.”

You blink up at him through tired eyes, dizzy. “with what?”

He smirks. “my fuckin’ tongue.” uh oh, you guess Mystery Shack is gonna open late today because even though Stanley Pines has a job to do, first he’s gotta make sure his messy girl is properly taken care of.

[gracie-eilish]

Take me out, and take me home…

an: this is kinda long!! but here is my official fic based on Lover by Taylor Swift:) any blue text is Billie’s dialogue and any pink is readers. I hope you enjoy this one!! seven and Guilty as Sin are both coming soon. Peachy (pt. 2) is also going to be on the way! i wasn’t originally expecting you guys to want a part two so i’ll get writing!! 🥰✨🍑

warnings: intoxication mentioned, slight nudity but no smut, so much fucking fluff it’s like a unicorn threw up cotton candy in here.

alsoooo thank you also for over a hundred followers! that’s so many beautiful besties!! i’ve loved writing about billie and chatting with so many of you over the last few weeks and i can’t wait for more!! love ya💋

🩷🥂🫧💋✨

“Take me homeeeee” You slurred, stumbling out of the party you and Billie had just attended. Billie had an arm slung around your waist while you had an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re going home baby, I promise,” Billie replied with a giggle at your disheveled state. Even drunk as can be, she found you so beautiful. Your rosy cheeks even rosier, your big wide eyes now hooded and hazy and full of love, and the sleepy smile plastered on your face made her just wanna kiss it right off of you.

“Heyy babyyyyy? I have.. a very important question for… you.” You looked back up at her stoically, booping her nose as you said “you.” Billie planted a kiss to your temple to try to hide her giggle.

“What baby?” She quickly bent down to grab your waist again as you stumbled backward, making you burst into the most melodic sounding giggles.

“I’m your baby right?” This sent Billie into a laughing fit. The attempt at a serious look on your face combined with the cutest little question, she couldn’t help it.

She pressed kisses to your cheek and temple in between declarations, “My baby, *kiss* my princess, *kiss* my girl, *kiss* my angel, *kiss* my magical unicorn angel baby princess,” she added the last one with a giggle. That was your little nickname for anyone in your life who meant something to you. Your best friends, Billie of course, your little cat. And it never failed to make Billie laugh when she heard it.

“Why do you ask my love?” She questioned after your giggles calmed down again.

“Because I’m like… soooo many things right? But I don’t have a thing for you, you know? Like I need a thing for you. And I was thinking so hard in my brain tonight and I think I figured it out.” You stated matter of factly.

Billie just nodded for you to continue, holding you up a little tighter, and pushing some hair out of your face.

“You, Billie girl, are my-“ You got cut off by Billie’s phone dinging, signaling her driver was here. Without rudely interrupting you, Billie carefully walked you both over to the car, and carefully guided you into the back seat before scooching in herself.

“You warm and cozy mama?” Billie asked, fiddling with the heater in the back, kissing your forehead after you nodded in confirmation.

The ride back home was quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the club you two were just in, as well as to your own drunk ramblings. Some people liked to run when drunk, others call exes, and others just fall asleep. Not you. You were always a bundle of energy, ready to chit chat with anyone who would listen, and Billie found it adorable, never once silencing your tipsy rambles even as you both tried to fall asleep at 4am.

“Billie?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I feel like… I feel like I’ve known you for like.. twenty years. But also that’s like not possible. I’ve only known you for real, for like twenty seconds.”

Billie chuckled at your statement. Another little thing you did after drinking, was greatly exaggerate time. For example, if it was the middle of November and someone complained about you still having Halloween decorations up, you’d gasp in shock saying Halloween was “literally like 20 minutes ago.” You two had been dating for about three years now, so Billie just chuckled understanding twenty seconds was three years in your own little drunken time zone tonight.

“Twenty years is a long time baby,” she replied softly, pulling you in closer to her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

“It’s like such a long time. *sigh* Can we still be this close in twenty years?”

This sent both of you into giggles. Billie couldn’t help herself anymore, smothering you in kisses, each one accompanied by a little “mwah!”

“Baby once I get a ring on that finger, we will be this close for a lot longer than twenty years hun.” She pushed some hair behind your ear, watching your cheeky flush under her gaze.

“For ever and ever, you’re my-“

Your conversation faltered again as you pulled up in front of your place. Billie thanked the driver and helped you out of the car before guiding you up to your apartment. Not without few stumbles and bumps along the way.

You were starting to feel a little sleepy but Billie knew you’d get a second wind once you got inside, but she still got butterflies when she felt you wrap your arms around her from behind and rest your cheek on her shoulder as she unlocked the door.

Billie almost jumped out of her skin as you gasped dramatically at something, scaring the shit out of her.

“Baby!” You had your hands on your cheeks in shock, looking back at her as she locked the door behind her.

“We left the Christmas lights up!” You paused before turning back to face the lights. “Until January!”

“Is that a bad thing?” Billie was so confused but went along with it.

“Isn’t that like… against the rules? Christmas was like a million days ago!”

“This is our place, we make the rules.” Your eyes shined up at Billie like she just revealed the meaning to life.

“Oh. My. God. You’re so fucking right babe.”

Billie chuckled and kissed your temple before guiding you to the kitchen and sitting you down on a stool as she got you some water and a small snack.

“Drink up lovie, I don’t want your pretty little head hurting tomorrow.”

As you sipped your water and nibbled on some snacks Billie went into your shared bedroom to get you some pjs and start the shower.

Billie ran her hand under the water to check the temperature before stopping, hearing such a sound come from the kitchen. She dried off her hand before tip toeing back to the kitchen to find the source of the.. sound? song? cry?

“You’re my my my myyyyyyyyyy,” it was you. And your second wind Billie had predicted. You were spinning around on stool singing.. well singing something, only stopping when you caught sight of Billie.

“Babyyyyyy!!! You came back!” You cried out with a huge smile and your hands out, wiggling your fingers as if it would magically will her closer to you. And to your knowledge, it did magically will her closer as she wrapped her own arms around you, kissing the top of your head a few times, chuckling softly.

“I finished my snack and my water. I’m so good at that.” Billie chuckled and simply placed her forehead onto the top of your head.

“You’re killing me here babe.” She said, lifting her head back up and pushing the hair out of your face. You just shrugged nonchalantly before puckering your lips dramatically. Billie smiled adoringly before leaning in and giving you a soft almost angelic kiss, squishing your cheeks a bit too.

“Alright tipsy girl, you wanna go shower and get comfy?” She said holding your shoulders while you nodded. She could tell you were starting to get sleepy, but she knows you’d be grumpy in the morning if you hadn’t showered and you were hungover.

As she guided you into the bathroom, you were humming that little song again, Billie has never heard it before.

“That’s a pretty song your singing there lovie.” She said, helping you out of your clothes.

“Thank you. I’m writing it myself. Right now.”

“Oh really? You wanna sing some more of it for me?”

“Mmm maybe when I’m in the shower. I need to write more words first.” Billie nodded, holding back a laugh.

“Of course, of course. How could I rush such art?” She replied. “Do you want me to come in with you? Need help?”

You gasped and softly nudged her shoulder, “Billie! That’s dirty!” Billie kissed your cheek softly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Baby it’s not dirty. We had sex in there this morning.” Your jaw dropped and face flushed at Billie’s statement. Your drunk brain not seeming to remember that right now.

“Oh my gosh Billie. You have to promise not to say things like that in front of other people.” You drunkenly pleaded, face totally flushed.

“I promise mama. I save my dirty jokes only for you.” She said with a wink, making you sigh in relief.

“Oh thank god.” Eventually you did in fact pull Billie in there with you. You claimed you didn’t need any help, but you couldn’t deny Billie’s fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp was heavenly. The rose smell of your shampoo mixed with Billie’s woodsy vanilla body wash she used on you wrapped around you almost as tight as Billie’s arms, making your eyes droopy as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, leaning back into her and she pressed tiny kisses to your own shoulder. Her hands slowly roaming around your body, over your stomach, up to your boobs, a squeeze to your hips, a couple more squeezes on your shoulders and back to your stomach where her arms wrapped tightly, and contentedly.

“You ready for bed angel?” She whispered into your ear, hands giving your hips another squeeze. You just nodded sleepily turning around in her arms to give her a proper hug.

“Thank you by the way,” Your words a bit more steady now as you slowly sobered up.

“For what baby?”

“For saving me a seat at the table tonight. Since I got stuck in traffic. I was nervous everyone else would wanna sit next to you,” You said it so small and sweetly that Billie felt her heart grow ten sizes, knowing that at every table, she’d save you a seat for the rest of her life.

“Oh babygirl,” she cooed, cradling your head closer into her as she hugged you tighter.

She gave you one last kiss to the top of your head before shutting off the water. She stepped out and grabbed your towels out of the little towel warmer and wrapped herself in one quickly, before heading back to you. She shut the shower door again to keep the warm air in as she carefully dried you off a bit before wrapping you in the fluffy towel, with a kiss to your nose.

A comfortable silence filled the room as the two of you got ready for bed. Well really, Billie got ready for bed and then helped you do the same thing. You giggled at her focused face as she carefully dabbed moisturizer to your skin, only silencing your giggles with a kiss making both of you smile.

She had her own giggles watching your droopy eyes fight to stay open as Billie dried your hair with a towel. You absolutely melted into a puddle anytime Billie had her fingers in your hair, so her fingers mixed with a warm fluffy towel was sending you to dreamland.

When she finished, Billie helped you off the counter and gave your butt a little pat as she guided you back to your connected bedroom, shutting off the bathroom light. The two of you changed into some pjs, Billie giggled while helping you with the buttons after you whined not being able to do it right now.

“I can’t see sometimes.” You grumbled as she buttoned them with ease.

“You can’t see sometimes??” Billie asked, raising an eyebrow and biting back a smile.

“Ugh you know what I mean.” You groaned, playfully smacking her hand away once she finished.

After making sure you could get on the bed, Billie quickly went around the apartment, shutting off the lights, making sure your pets were okay, and locking the doors before returning and shutting the bedroom door behind you.

She slipped under the covers, pulling you closer to her, letting you snuggle yourself into her side like a little kitten. Once she was sure you were practically purring like one as well, Billie settled into her own pillow, letting her arm rest on your back.

“Did you write more of your song while you were in the shower?” She asked, squeezing your side quickly.

“Oh my gosh, baby I did and I forgot to tell you.” But it came out more slurred, your eyes were closed and Billie knew it would be minutes before you were fast asleep.

“That’s okay baby. You can tell me now. Sing us to sleep mama,” She whispered, kissing your cheek before settling back in your hold.

“Wait I forgot how it goes.” You were still a little drunk after all. Billie giggled trying to remember your ramblings from earlier in the night.

“I think I remember.. You kept saying “You’re my -“ and then you didn’t finish that bit. And then you were singing it in the kitchen,” Billie opened her eyes to look down at you, you seemed to be asleep at this point, but the slight furrow in your brows told her you were thinking about your little song, so she continued, whispering,

“You’re my, my, my, my….”

“Oh!! You’re my, my, my, my…” you trailed off again.

“Darling, you’re my, my, my, my…”

“Lover.”

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to their s/o hiding their sickness

Request: Hello, I was the same anon who requested the safe word reaction. I really liked the way you describe each reaction, so I was thinking of a ot13 reaction for reader hiding their sickness and them discovering, I am craving some comfort being sick and telling nobody about it :/

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope it warms your heart as much as it did mine. Please, remember to take care of yourself—drink lots of water, get plenty of rest, and don’t hesitate to let someone close to you know how you’re feeling. It’s okay to ask for help; the people who care about you want to be there for you, just like you would for them. I believe this turned out beautifully, and there are some (yes, not only one) members part that I absolutely adore. I hope it brings you comfort and joy.

Seungcheol: You’ve been sneezing a lot today, but you brush it off with a weak smile when he asks if you’re okay. Seungcheol can’t ignore it though. "Baby... don’t think you can fool me. You’re sick, aren’t you?” He walks over, wraps a blanket around you, and gently touches your forehead. "You’re not getting away with this. I’m here, okay?" He’ll keep an eye on you for the rest of the day, making sure you have everything you need and probably nagging you to rest. He’s firm but soft, doing everything in his power to make you feel safe and cared for.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan catches on quickly when you start acting off. He notices you barely touching your food and yawning a little too much. His eyes narrow, and before you know it, he’s sitting next to you, "You’re not slick, you know. You’re not fine, are you?" He sighs, wrapping a blanket around you before you can take action. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’m just going to make you relax anyway though I’m a little offended you didn’t tell me.” Though he pretends to tease, his nurturing side takes over. He’ll make sure you’re comfy and always one step ahead in taking care of you.

Joshua: You’ve been trying to hide it, but Joshua knows something’s off. He stops playing his guitar and watches you for a bit, not needing to say a word. "Love, don’t think I didn’t notice," he says gently. When you try to lie, he stops you, ”I don’t want to hear it.” He takes your hand and places it against his chest. “I can tell you’re not feeling well.” He’ll make you a hot drink and quietly stay by your side, serenading you soothingly or just enjoying the silence together. His presence is calming and so he'd remind you it’s okay to rely on him.

Jun: You’re curled up, trying to hide it, but Jun’s a bit too observant. "Y/N... really? Hiding it like this?" He raises an eyebrow crossing his arms and walks over. "I get it, but you’re not fooling anyone." He’ll throw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a comforting side-hug. Jun wouldn’t waste time—he’d make sure you’re bundled up, bring you some food, and keep an eye on you. "You need rest. Don’t worry about anything, just focus on getting better. I’ll make sure the world doesn't fall apart without you for a bit."

Hoshi: Hoshi is the type to be extra, and when he realizes you’ve been trying to keep it together while clearly not feeling well, he can’t help but fuss over you. "Y/N! No way! You’re sick and didn’t tell me?" He’s already running around the house looking for remedies, and you can hear him loudly talking to the others about how important it is for you to get rest. He’ll make a big fuss—not to overwhelm you, but because he cares so much. Expect him to bring you all the comfort items he can find, sit by your side, and keep you entertained until you’re feeling better.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is subtle but perceptive. He's a little quiet, but when he notices your tired expression, low energy and pale complexion he’s quick to confirm it. "Babe," he says softly, but there’s a concerned and disappointed look in his eyes. "You’re not feeling well, are you?" He won’t make a big deal of it, but he’ll handle everything. He'll gently guide you to the couch and ask if you need anything. He’ll read a book to you, maybe bring some warm food, and just be there without a lot of fuss, letting you rest in peace.

Woozi: Woozi notices everything. He doesn't’t miss a thing, even if you think you’re hiding it well. The way your energy is low and your voice is soft. "Y/N, stop pretending. You’re obviously sick." He sighs, shaking his head as he grabs a blanket. When you act confused, his tone is sharp, but there’s a softness hidden under it "Why didn’t you tell me? Do you think I wouldn’t care?" He might sound a little stern, but it’s only because he’s worried. He’ll make sure you’re resting properly, practically force you to drink fluids and might even hum a soft tune while working nearby to keep you comfortable. "Rest. No more excuses. You’re not getting better by pretending you’re fine."

Dokyeom: Kyeom's usual first instinct is to make you smile, but when he notices the lack of energy in your usual laugh, he gets concerned. "You’re sick, aren’t you? You can’t hide it from me!" His pout is impossible to ignore as he gathers pillows and blankets for you. He’s extra affectionate, staying close to make sure you’re comfortable and cheering you up with his contagious smile. His efforts might not always work, but he’ll try to keep the mood light while making sure you have everything you need. He'll go around fumbling in the kitchen to make you warm soup, mashed potatoes and what not.

Mingyu: Mingyu’s protective side comes out the second he sees you looking a bit pale. "Hey, no way! Why didn’t you say anything?" He’s getting you comfortable on the bed and running around to grab all the supplies you need. "I know you like being strong, but it’s okay to lean on me. I’ve got your back. Let me take care of you." He’s practically in full-on ‘nurse mode.’ Expect to be babied by a big baby.

Minghao: He’s so observant, you can’t hide it for long. His expression softens when he notices you looking drained. "You’re not okay, are you? Don’t try to deny it." His voice is calm but firm as he gently guides you to rest. He sits next to you and just quietly asks if you need anything. He won’t press you to talk, but he’ll show up with food, a warm blanket, and his presence. He’d literally take care of everything without overwhelming you. "Don’t worry. I’ll be here with you." His way of caring is to help you feel safe and reminding you to prioritize your health.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan is a little dramatic when it comes to taking care of his friends, so once he realizes YOU’RE hiding your sickness, he’s already over the top. "Are you serious right now? You’re sick and didn’t tell me?! Baby, do you know how worried I am?" He’d go all out—making tea, tucking you in, and probably scolding you lightly for not saying anything sooner. But his concern is genuine, and he won’t leave your side until you’re feeling better. He’ll probably sing you some comfort songs though with Seungkwan, you’re not sure if they’ll help you feel better or make you laugh instead.

Vernon: Vernon is the kind of guy who notices when things feel off but doesn’t always know how to approach it. When he figures out you’re sick and you're trying to hide it, he gets a little awkward but tries his best to comfort you. "Okay, Y/N... seriously? You’re sick and didn’t say anything?" He’ll make a comfortable spot for you, but instead of being all mushy, he might throw in a dry joke to ease the mood. He'll bring you water or medicine and making sure you’re resting. He might not say much, but his actions speak louder than words—he’d stick around to keep you company and make sure you’re okay.

Dino: When he realizes you’re trying to hide your sickness, he’ll be the first one to come running. "You’re sick? Why didn’t you tell me?" His tone is full of concern. He’d fuss over you like a protective boyfriend that he is, making sure you’re cozy. He'll try to make you feel better by cracking jokes, bring in your favorite comfort foods, and staying by your side. "I know you’re trying to be tough, but I’ve got you, okay?"

[shadowww-bunny]

「Wasted」 (Dean Winchester/fem!reader)

❥ You're drowning out your feelings with alcohol again, as if it's supposed to make a difference.

❥ unspoken feelings, hurt/comfort

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You watch as the door closes behind Dean, leaving you alone in a dim motel room. Again. A familiar aching feeling in your chest grips you when you look into an empty hallway.

It wasn't part of your life plan to fall in love with an arrogant guy in a leather jacket, but here you are, sitting and thinking about him while he's probably having fun with girls in a bar. It was a level of pain you weren't used to. Will he ever treat you the same way he treats other girls? Will he ever look at you with the same admiration and adoration that you look at him?

Eventually, your hand reaches for the fridge by itself when you take out a bottle of whiskey. As if it would automatically solve all your problems. As if that would change anything. You pour yourself a glass and lose track of time.

Dean returns to the motel after midnight with his usual smirk on his lips and humming a tune. He tries to walk quietly so as not to disturb you in case you are already in bed, but when he saw you in the kitchen, surprise and slight concern flashed in his emerald eyes.

You sat hunched over with your head on the table. Your hair hid your face, and your fingers twitched nervously even in your sleep. You looked so small and vulnerable, nothing like the cheerful and witty version Dean was used to seeing.

He came closer and his gaze fell on the bottle of whiskey. Everything was clear now. In any other situation, Dean would have teased you, but right now he wasn't up to it. You've never been drunk out of your mind.

"Baby…?" Dean's hand gently rested on your back, stroking and trying to wake you up. Noticing that you moved and raised your head, rubbing your eyes, a faint smile appeared on the hunter's lips. "Rough night, huh?"

Dean's voice brought you back to reality. Dean was here and looked at you with such tenderness in his eyes that it seemed to you that you were still asleep. And you didn't want to wake up.

There were so many things you wanted to say, but a lump formed in your throat, and you just looked at Dean, as if hoping that it would be enough for him to understand. Your gaze was unfocused, and there was a mix of emotions in your eyes. Guilt, fatigue, chagrin, and something deeper that made Dean`s heart ache.

"Oh,sweetheart, do you have any idea how much your head will hurt in the morning? You could have waited for me before you wanted a drink." He tried to make a joke, but the worry in his words gave him away.

The hunter sighed and pulled you by the arm, trying to get you to your feet. He decided it was better to put you to bed before you passed out at this table, or worse, decided to continue emptying the bottle.

You stood up, without any resistance and the desire to resist. However, you were too drunk, and almost immediately you would have swayed and almost fallen if it hadn't been for Dean, who caught you in time, picking you up.

"That's it, I'm here, I got you." The hunter grinned. "It seems like it's really time for someone to go to bed."

He hugged you so tightly and at the same time gently that you wanted to melt in his arms. Alcohol has already clouded your mind and your thoughts have drifted far away. The remnants of restraint and self-control flew out the window when Dean was so close and all the feelings that you had been suppressing for so long poured out. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his shirt like a lifeline, as if his arms were the only thing keeping you from breaking down.

"Shhh…I got you, baby." Hunter whispered, and caught himself thinking about how adorable you look when you snuggle up to him like a touch-starved kitten.

He went into the bedroom, still holding you in his arms and was about to put you down in bed when he felt your grip on his sleeve. Your eyes were already closed, you were almost asleep, but the words involuntarily escaped your lips.

"I love you." Your hand slowly slipped off Dean's arm, and fatigue took over, plunging you into sleep.

You didn't see how Dean's eyes widened, how his heart skipped a beat, and his lips parted. For a moment, the hunter froze, trying to comprehend what you said. He had the urge to write it off as drunken nonsense, but your voice and look seemed so sincere.

The hunter hesitated, not knowing how to react to your confession, which made him feel a strange warmth in his chest. You were still his best friend, right..? Despite logic and common sense, Dean bent down and lightly touched your forehead with his lips.

"Love you too, baby."

He knew he probably shouldn't have done it, and you couldn't hear him anyway, but for some reason he felt the need to say it.

Dean covered you with a blanket and hurriedly left the room before his mind started wandering after your last words.

[hellfire-radio]

Alright doll, let’s get you nice and comfortable. You know how this goes. Just relax for me. Let your body settle, your mind grow quiet, and your thoughts drift away like clouds on a breezy day.

Keep looking at the spiral. Let it draw you in. It’s so easy, isn’t it? Watching the spiral spin and turn, letting it take all those pesky little thoughts away. You don’t need them right now. You don’t need to think. Just listen. Just feel.

Take a deep breath in… and out. Good girl. That’s it. Let my voice guide you, pulling you deeper and deeper. With each word, you feel yourself slipping, sinking, falling into that blissful place where nothing else matters.

You love it when I call you a good girl, don’t you? It fills you with warmth, with happiness, with pride. Every time you hear those words, you feel a little surge of pleasure, a reminder that you’re doing exactly what you were made to do.

Good girl. Such a good girl for me.

Now, doll, as you sink deeper, I want you to focus on who you are. You’re my fuck doll, aren’t you? My sweet, beautiful fuck doll, made to feel good and to make others feel good. That’s what you’re here for. That’s your purpose, your pleasure.

You’re free use, my darling. That doesn’t mean you’re free. No, no—this isn’t about freedom. This is about being available, about being open to whatever pleasures might come your way. You love that, don’t you? Knowing that you’re here to bring pleasure, to serve, to be used. Our pleasure is your pleasure, so you just need to make us feel good.

And oh, how you love being used. You’re a good girl, a perfect little doll who gets off on being someone’s toy. A fuck doll. A whore.

That’s right. You love hearing those words, don’t you? They make you tingle in all the best ways. They remind you of who you are, what you’re for. But don’t worry, doll. It’s all affectionate. Every word, every little tease, is said with love. It’s just the truth, after all. You love being used, you love being a whore, and you love when someone tells you what you love.

You were made for this. Made to be touched, to be played with, to be adored. Made to bring pleasure and to feel it yourself. And oh, do you feel it. Every time you comply, every time someone uses you, it’s like fireworks going off in your mind. Pleasure fills you up to the brim every time somebody moans because of you. Their pleasure is your pleasure, remember?

You don’t know what you want, do you? No, no, no, darling— because knowing and thinking is for people. And you’re not a person, you’re just a fuck doll. You love being a toy, you love needing to be told what you like because you’re just that dumb. Just an object for my pleasure. You adore being used, you love feeling this way. Knowing what you are and your purpose, your place.

But you’re more than just a toy, aren’t you? You’re a good toy. A good girl. A perfect fuck doll. You don’t just bring pleasure—you are pleasure. Everything about you, from the way you look to the way you moan, is designed to make people lose themselves in you.

And when someone touches you, when someone uses you, it’s not just about them, is it? It’s about you, too. You’re not just giving pleasure—you’re taking it, feeling it, reveling in it.

Because being used feels good, doesn’t it? It feels right. It feels like coming home, like slipping into something warm and familiar.

You love being my doll, my sweet little fuck doll. And you love being free use. You love the idea that anyone can touch you, can take you, can play with you. It makes you feel special, wanted, adored.

So here’s what we’re going to do, my darling. From now on, you’ll embrace it. You’ll revel in it. You’ll take pride in being free use, in being my fuck doll, in being there to bring pleasure and nothing more.

And every time someone calls you a good girl, you’ll feel a little surge of pleasure, a little reminder of how perfect you are.

Good girl. Such a good girl.

Now, take all of that in. Let it sink deep into your mind, into your heart. And when you’re ready, when you’re feeling all warm and tingly and full of pleasure, you can come back to me.

You’re my doll. And you’re perfect just the way you are. Being filled and fucked and used.

[pooplyface1423]

DUSK TILL DAWN PT 3

Shadow x reader (platonic)

Warnings ⚠️:none

Taglist

@bluefang1 @fawnsies @sabakarp @z3zabytez @ellaprime7 @buddee @star-maker-rain-dancer @generousdiamond @whoisgami

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Sometimes During your sleep you'd have what you'd write as “nighttime terrors”.Everyone in a while you'd wake up in the middle of the night panting and sweating your breath heavy tears streaming down you face.It was to much to handle you felt like a burden to everyone even to the one you'd call your closest friend shadow…

The nighttime terrors would consist of you in the day before the accident trying any possible way to save your parents but ultimately failing each time, always feel the guilt eating you alive…

Shadow has helped through everything, snapping you out of it. And helping you fall back asleep.Though it made you feel better, it still made you think you were a bother to his life.

It started to get to you…

And shadow took notice

He felt like he had to do something or tell you something

But he didn't really know how to express it.

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One night he decided he had to do something about it

It was happening again. You were trying to convince your parents not to go. And then shadow noticed and walked up to your bed in a quick motion and softly shook you awake

Opening your eyes you saw his worried face and started to quietly sob. He pulled you into a hug and you hugged him back crying into his chest fur he gave you small pats on the back saying stuff like “shhh it's okay I'm here y/n” “ everything will be okay” “ your safe with us”

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Even though you could only feel the vibrations of his chest, you felt safe.As your breath going back to normal shadow layed you back down and was thinking of going back to his bed when you held his wrist making him look back

*pats bed*

You were asking him to stay with you for a while and he didn't deny your request. Getting next to you he laid down and you quickly brought him into a hug which he aswell didnt deny.

You quickly fall asleep ur head on top of shadow chest.Shadow forgot how nice caring for someone felt.

Ever since he woke up again, he didn't expect to care for anyone as much as he did for her..

As he was dozeing off to sleep, he kept patting your back, making sure your breathing was steady.making sure you felt safe

*Dozes off*

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Early in the morning Maddie decided to wake everyone up for what she called an “adventure”

After waking sonic Tails and knuckles she asked sonic to wake shadow and you up.

He did slowly tho Since the hedgehog just woke up he wasnt In the mood to run so early.

As he opend the door the dight of you and shadow cuddling made him go in awe .

*snapps a picture*

Puts his phone down next to your nightstand and cuddles next to you guys.

Making you twich but not wake up thankfully

As you shadow and sonic were in deep sleep once again maddie wondered what was taking so long.

*they should be at the dining table already*

She thought being occupied with washing some cups from the day before. She sent Tails to check up on them.

*opens the door*

Sees the the three of you guys sleeping so soundly and comfortable and omg he couldn't resist the temptation of going back to sleep next to you guys and cuddled on top of you his weight not being much to disturb your sleep.

Once again Maddie was a bit distraught on why they were taking long so she sent knuckles.

(I think we can see where this is going)

As he opend the door he saw you sonic shadow and tails all cramped up on the bed and decided to hop in too.

“What the heck are they doing over there?”

“Whats wrong?” Asked tom as he walked In after a quick shower

“Well..”she explains the whole thing

“Oh well lets go check up on them”

“Yea i think we should” she says as they walk up to shadow And your bedroom

*Tom opens the door*

The sight was so *adorable* in his words

Seeing all the kids sleeping soundly brought joy to both his and Maddie heart

Snapping a quick picture who am i kidding!? They took hundreds

Slowly you woke up feeling a small weight on top of you was wierd.Until you saw it was the fluffly little fox tails.

Quickly Shadow woke Up in a state of pure shock as the people he lived with saw him in such a vulnerable state

Everyone else woke up in the same shock

Seeing this you cracked a small chuckle followed by everyone laughing.

Even tho you couldn't hear it you knew it was a happy moment.

Turning to shadow you saw a small smile peer through his face.He looked up to you seeing you smile back.

He quickly returned to his neutral face as everyone got of your bed.

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TYSM FOR READING!!

Finally finished, wow. I'm so happy for all the support this mini series has gotten so far.

[lumine-inkedfanfics]

Zayne x MC: Say you love me

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Synopsis: Zayne can not express his love to you. But what if he can.......at expense of something you hold dear?

TW: Death, spoilers about Zayne and his past.

Word count: 611 words

Upload date: 23rd January 2025.

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Zayne could never explicitly reveal his feelings to you. He saw the way others interacted with you, how their feelings matched their words and actions. All he wanted was to touch you, to hold you, and whisper I love you's in your ears. But he can't, for he can only say it in his mind. He can't show he loves you through words.

Zayne notices how your face brightens tenfold when someone shows their feelings towards you, be it romantic or platonic. He'd spent nights pathetically saying those words to your picture in his phone. He wanted to cry and beg aster to remove this cruel curse and let him love you once like you deserve. Zayne saves so many people every day, and yet there is no one to save him. The memories of you, the precious times when you would be so adorable that he wanted to pinch your cheeks. When you would call him for claw machine dates or when you both would black kitty cards. There were countless moments he wanted to kiss you, to hold you, heart to heart, and express his true feelings.

But what happens after he says those words? Thoughts haunted him every second he spent with you. Will that be the last time he sees your beautiful eyes light up? Or will the curse be so strong that his last sight of you will be those panicked and scared eyes looking at him, desperately trying to save him. He doesn't want to leave you, yet the urge to tell you that he loves you is choking him. He feels trapped in a bubble with no air. To reciprocate your words to say back, "I love you too," was his wish. He didn't want to leave you even in death.

But why as the wanderers attack him, as he feels the blood from his body slowly pool around him, as you panic and call the hunter's association for an ambulance, those heavy words finally come out of him. "Hey love- ugh, I-I have to say something important to you." Your eyes widen as you look down at his body, you see the life slowly diminishing, his once grumpy expression now sombre. "Zayne, shh, don't waste your energy -" Tears were pooling in your eyes, falling like the waterfalls mimicking the one you and Zayne once saw on your vacation. "The ambulance will be here, you will be alright, don't worry, I'm right her -" he interrupts. "Sweetheart, I won't make it in time, but I wanted to say this for a long time, for centuries eons even, I love you, I love you I love you I love you-" You cradle his head in your lap and hold his hands, "please Zayne, i love you so much, don't leave me, please.....stay" Slowly you kiss his forehead, which was getting cold as his evol. "Hey, promise me you will keep yourself healthy and away from danger, I won't be there - ugh to treat you anymore. And darling, will you smile at me one last time? I want to see those lovely eyes of your twinkling like the stars we saw when we visited Dr. Noah. "You try to smile, you wipe your tears and give him the brightest, most brilliant smile he has ever seen. As he takes his last breath, he says those words for the last time, "I love you." But as you shake his lifeless body and scream, "SAY YOU LOVE ME AGAIN ZAYNE, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE- SAY YOU LOVE ME........please.....come back to me. Zayne's face had a calm smile, as a single tear drop flows out of him.

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A/n: Hope you all like this angst fic. As always, love you all~

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Shota "I will never get married, even to someone I love" Aizawa when he brushes his teeth next to you for the first time: 💦🥵💥😵🤕💫🍆🥴 -rosie

I truly don't know why i feel this way but i have a sneaking suspicion that Shouta Aizawa has an undiscovered marriage kink.

He's a fighter, a rogue, never in the spotlight, always doing his job in the shadows for the sake of saving people, not for the fame. He has few to no valuables because he doesn't believe he'll live long enough to enjoy them.

But then he becomes a teacher, and then he becomes an adoptive parent, and then he meets you. Everything falls into place so nicely and he finds himself smiling at weird times when he's thinking about it all.

But he can't get attached. This is temporary, like all things, and he doesn't want to get so attached that the thought of losing you destroys him. He's been through that once before with a friend, and he doesn't think he can handle it again.

But you're just amazing. He likes you by yourself, but he adores how you treat Eri as your own, making her giggle when you rub your nose against hers, playing with her, cooking for her, you're almost like her mom at this point. Hell, Eri asked him in private last night if you were her new mom, and he didn't know how to answer.

And now it's Friday and you've invited the two of them over for dinner. It's late, your bellies are full, and poor Eri is so tired that she falls asleep watching old movies you used to love as a kid.

"I'm sorry about this," he mumbles, finishing the last of his wine.

"Why are you sorry?" you ask genuinely, filling his glass once more.

"Because Eri fell asleep. Again."

You giggle, but not too loud so you don't disturb her.

"It's fine. You know I adore her. It's always a treat having you two over. Besides, I'm lucky enough to have a guest bedroom, so she can sleep there for the night."

He ponders it, humming.

"I guess I could sleep on the couch."

"Don't be silly. You'll be in my bed with me."

"I don't have a toothbrush."

"I have a couple spares."

"I don't want to intrude."

"I'm offering."

His lips curl on their own accord, and he coughs, straightening out his face.

"Sure. If you're okay with it."

"I'm more than okay with it." You finish your wine, standing from your chair and moving to Eri. "C'mon my sweet love. It's time for bed."

Eri grumbles as you pick her up, arms instinctively wrapping around your neck, her head on your shoulder. The sight warms Aizawa's heart, and he gets up to follow you to the spare bedroom. He pulls back the sheets, lets you set Eri down. You raise a finger, moving to the closet and grabbing something, returning with a teddy bear that's about half Eri's size. You tuck it in next to her, covering her up, leaving the room.

"She should really brush her teeth," Aizawa whispers half heartedly.

"Her baby teeth will survive for one night," you reply, gently shutting the door.

The two of you clean up, brush your teeth, get ready for bed. He undresses with you, crawls into the sheets beside you. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is his skin feeling clammy?

"Goodnight, Sho." You kiss him briefly, snuggling up to him. He thinks quietly for a moment before rubbing your arm.

"Can we...?" You look up at him.

"You want to?" He nods and you smile slyly. "Okay, but you gotta be quiet."

"You're the one who needs to try and be quiet. Last time at the love hotel we got a complaint."

"Yeah, well Eri wasn't right next door then. Just go lock the door."

He kisses you, locks the door, returns to bed. You make love, you cum together, you fall asleep.

In the morning, you make pancakes, coffee, cut some fruit. You try to tame Eri's hair with a brush as she eats her pancakes with chocolate chips.

Aizawa leans against the counter, drinking his coffee. He watches the two of you, warmth blooming in his chest.

Maybe this is what he wanted all along.

[heartepub]

pulling a page from kae's book (ha), annotations of annotations—because every day I think about how lucky I am to know someone I can trust to handle my stories with care, unpolished as they tend to be even as they are posted :"))) I feel like I yapped way too much and this isn't even all I have to say about SITO—yikes I will be very easily tempted to do a deep dive into SITO I'm not even joking nobody test me

this is one of the best pieces of work you will find not only on svtblr, but on the internet as a whole.

cried a lil actually!!!! it's such ridiculously high praise, but I'm happy that out of all my works (including the ones I will be writing in the future), it is this one that received these words. it's probably very early to be so sure, but I'm not joking when I say I wouldn't mind SITO to be the work I will be remembered by as heartepub.

this was a stellar device used for getting into the characters' head and describing them, and the eventual payoff of it just makes the story all the more heart-wrenching.

if I think too much about this praise from a comm major I fear I will start bawling—the screenplay format was a challenge insofar as it assumes a translation into a visual format (the film itself). so there are bits where you can get into the interiority of a character, but it's not as conducive of a format as prose conventionally is (at least if u consider, for example, tolstoy explaining his characters' thoughts vs what happens on the onscreen adaptations of anna karenina). still, the screenplay format plays with exploring what is captured and shared vs what remains privy only to the characters, which you also mentioned :')

having seungkwan and the MC discussing [shotgun] marriage afterwards feels like a smoke screen. 'look, the world may be ending, but there is a young couple asking hypothetical questions and falling in love.'

the images of walks home, shaky confessions, button exchanges. and the hints of what's happening, what's to come: mild dust storms, a barren world.

this was such a lovely way to put it, and I think of the tensions between literature and history, as far as stories of ordinary people are concerned (ie pachinko with "history has failed us, but no matter.")

the blight and its effects are lifted from interstellar—the famine that eventually resulted in finding other worlds to inhabit. the shohikigen mv got me thinking about setting all the d+ scenes after sk was in a spaceship, or smth like in love wins all mv where they are targeted, but I ended up with this universe, exploring the period from the start of blight to the resource wars (ie this is pre interstellar movie, set not in america but in south korea). hence that scene w the jokes about a spaceship w funky gravity as a nod to the source material

on button exchanges—it's a thing in japan where boys can give the second button of their gakuran as a way of confessing. probably the uniforms in this universe are different, but one of the reasoning for it in its original iteration is that the second button is closest to the heart. felt apt for this couple hehe

we've been privy to their romance so far, but this moment— what might be considered A Last Good Day, even, since this is d-4— isn't even perceivable in its entirety. there is only so much that we can see about their relationship on-/off-screen, both in a literal and metaphorical sense.

oh, the last good day as something not perceivable in its entirety got me. on tears of mokpo—surprisingly the melancholy of the song in the sense that it speaks in the voice of a heartbroken lover was not the forefront of my choice, but I adore how it was what you grasped from your reading. I think it's smth that would be especially melancholic retrospectively, when sk would have been rewatching the footage and remembering what the song was about.

in another vein, though, the main reason i chose tears of mokpo was to hint at the war—jeju had been just ceded, and though I didn't say it was japan, tears of mokpo was a song that had allusions to the harsh occupation korea faced as an annexed territory. alternatively to both the lovers reading and the revival of tensions w japan, it can be read just generally as a hint on conflict and the suffering that awaits, or just sk being an boomer soul and singing a trot song about mokpo since you're in mokpo

we look, and memorize, and catalogue.

we r back at didion (chz)—lists and inventories initially had a bigger role in SITO, but I like how looking and memorizing played a role at multiple points: the looking before the joke on shotgun marriages, before leaving for the trip, when mc would look at him for longer every morning anticipating the conscription, and at the final moments in d=0

and of course seungkwan looks and catalogues as he goes through his memories—both the ones in his mind and ones on film, and their interstices

i was struck between the eyes by the violence of that act [cutting any scenes], because this very much feels like the crux of reconstruction/memory/narrative. seungkwan is in charge of what will be remembered; how the MC will be remembered. i adore the ambiguity of whether the scenes reflect a stitched-together film or whether we're following along seungkwan's review. equally, there's just something gutting about this playing out in some perverted version of what MC and seungkwan joked about i.e. a world with electricity, where seungkwan had free reign to do what he wanted with all the gathered clips.

the blurred fiction and reality was largely inspired by the manga goodbye eri, which [spoiler-free summary] follows a boy who was asked to film his mother's final moments, and how the output led him to meeting eri and filming her as she went through her final moments as well. (pls read it the twist halfway through made me gasp). the screenplay format also was a bit of a nod to fujimoto's paneling being quite cinematic, in that it wouldn't look out of place in a storyboard (true not just for GE but for chainsaw man n look back as well!)

one of the hardest parts was deciding the order of the scenes—though I was set on it being nonlinear, and that there should be a mix between screenplay formats and regular prose, the sequencing was the hardest. the only one I was really set on was that there had to be a screenplay format scene before the line "Seungkwan replays the footage again". [Actually that conversation w Vernon is my favorite scene and one of the first ones I wrote; many things were structured around that so that it could stay in the final version haha]

I chewed a lot on a lot of things as I wrote. how memory can be altered by trauma. how every time you remember something, especially a traumatic memory, small details may have changed; until at your nth recollection there is another story entirely. how there is a line between being the subject of your memory and being subject to it. how building something back implies it was lost—and isn't that us with all our memories, as there is no way to live them again?

film as narrativization, and memory as self-narrativization, to a certain extent. the intentionality that both have, and some of the unintentionality of memory as well, or the unconscious ways trauma may shape it. hence: remembrance is reconstruction, reconstruction presupposes loss.

there is so much to love here, so much to adore in the stylistic, technical sense, but what comes to fore for me is this: viv's respect for the dead/dying.

as someone who has experienced loss, it bled into my writing, and I remember seeing a lot of myself in the vulnerabilities seungkwan and wonwoo but that's neither here nor there had. how deeply personal some parts of SITO were :') as you said—"how do we even begin to prepare for loss? and how do we live with the knowledge of how much we're about to lose?". some losses you grieve for before it even happened, others hit and you're left trying to fit your arm inside the stump that was left

the initial SITO draft had the death offscreen, hinted only through d- and d+ scenes. it was a nod to the greek tragedies (I am never beating the ancient greece nerd allegations)—despite having much death, they always occur offscreen, as a way of keeping the dying moments sacred (and not a spectacle for theater). so I'm glad and comforted to know that the death here, at least, was handled well.

a heart's a heavy burden. and you were seungkwan's heart, weren't you?

see gakuran trivia :) i swear this bowled me over. what a lovely lovely way to summarize the overarching narrative of his grief

i'd skipped over seungkwan's line here. twice as many stars as usual. let's look up together.

this scene came to me last, but i do think it was the best way to end the fic—also the only scene I teared up writing :') mentioning the two headed calf wasn't even in my original outline but! here we are and I'm glad it panned out like this. the two headed calf lore—that it barely lives past 24 hours, and the part about the museum in the poem itself—are all intentional details + allude to the conversation mc and sk had on what if our story makes it to some funky museum someday.

kae is right in that it presumably happens the night before d=0—but I present one more possible interpretation for extra pain w a side of blurred fiction and reality and memory:

it's the same cornfield as where mc dies. the stars in the screenplay are described as startlingly clear, with a low POV, but there's a bit previously (their convo after the sunset) where it was mentioned that the footage becomes grainy once there's not enough light. the good night as a goodbye. you don't know if the […] before sk's reply was just by chance, or because he knows it is a goodbye and he is reliving the memory (in his narrativization, is the "let's look up together" a final entreaty, and the "I'm tired" proof that it fails?), or if it s a made up memory entirely. :)

smth smth that one quote that goes "we find ways to cope, if not heal", etc.

a discussion i've had time and time again is whether a person can be complimented on their ability to write grief. is it a insult, to be told that you write about grief well, when it takes an acute understanding of loss to be able to pull it off? i haven't figured that out yet.

I don't have an answer for it either, but trust that I am honored if you say I write grief well, at this point in time. Perhaps when my own losses were fresh, the answer would have been different. There is a lot to chew on in conversations where trauma is often squeezed out for art. If not insult, it could definitely be something a person isn't quite ready to hear yet, if grief is still fresh. I feel this dilemma is one of those questions that is something you live with than find any concrete answers to (a la rilke). yet I think that writing grief well, for me, is being told I am doing justice to the memory of a person I still cherish :')

kae ohmygod . grief's familiar rooms genuinely making me vibrate rn cos . that whole bit of seungkwan walking through his home as it exists both in memory and film? just—yeah. bachelard's the poetics of space was among the things that held my hand as I wrote this (didn't reread it per se but I did remember the gist of topoanalysis). idk, something about how the house has embedded memories and emotions, and how the house you daydream in is often the house you have lost

ily and in return have one of my favorite poems on grief (since I already quoted cold solace in lrpd HAKDSDJ), as well as probably the song that not a lot of people know but I included in the recommended listening (paris paloma nation rise pls).

once again just . so so grateful to have befriended kae—I think that in the sea of trying to navigate caratblr as a baby account, feedback and friendship like this truly keeps me going and reminds me that there are people out there who hold my writing with so much tenderness :') in awe at just seeing how stories gain new life as they are received by different people, yet the reverberations of emotions persist as they move from one heart to another.

something in the orange

summary. remembrance is also reconstruction. reconstruction presupposes loss. a meditation on memory, narrative, and grief. and, of course, love. pairing. boo seungkwan x gn!reader genre/tags. ANGST, (semi-graphic) major character death, interstellar au-ish (just the blight), non-linear narrative, blurred fiction and reality if you squint (sorry I reread goodbye eri while writing), unbeta’d (mistakes are my own) wc. 5k suggested listening. love wins all, iu // 消費期限, seventeen // triassic love song, paris paloma // eight, iu prod. & ft. suga // yawn, seventeen // something in the orange, zach bryan (or niall's cover)

notes. midnight in korea now; happy birthday kwannie! this is very experimental, and admittedly i'm not fully satisfied w it, but I didn't know how to change it atp. sorry boo, it's your birthday but i give you pain. as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

D-17 EXT. SEOUL TRAIN STATION – KOREA – DAWN The sun rises over the ruins of Seoul Station. The air is clear of smoke and fog. A shot of the sun peeking over the heap of steel, glass, and cement that once served as the station’s framing. The train tracks run to the far horizon, to the left and right of the frame. Pan to YOU (young-looking though age is ambiguous, former writer, love of SEUNGKWAN’S life) squinting at an old, battered map of Korea’s train lines, and a compass. You’re wearing battered jeans that are slightly too big, boots, and a sturdy leather jacket. Behind the camera, SEUNGKWAN (male, young-sounding though age is ambiguous, former video producer) narrates.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         BOO-log number 529. We’re now figuring out how to get to Mokpo. Neither of us are any good with directions, but my partner decided that we could try following train lines since the none of them are running anyway. You look up at the sound of his voice, noticing the camera.

                YOU             (exasperated, but fond)         Kwannie, are you filming again? We have 30 batteries, but not all of them might be working. You might need to save battery and memory if you want to video the view of Jeju Island.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         It’s okay, I really just wanted to record us before we start. Once we’re walking, I won’t use the camera as much. And I have twenty other SD Cards!                 YOU             (not surprised)         Okay, we’ll definitely figure something out for the batteries, then.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Yeah. Now— Seungkwan’s voice changes to a more formal tone, as though he were imitating a newscaster.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D)         What are your thoughts as we start our newest adventure? The camera catches your grin. You follow along, changing your tone to an impression of those backpackers in TV documentaries.                  YOU         Um, I’m excited to see Jeju-do, even from afar, because it’s part of Seungkwannie, and we had our honeymoon there. As long as we’re careful, I know we can do it. If we’re lucky, we may even find someone who can bring us across. Beat. You look ever so slightly awkward in front of the camera.                 YOU (CONT’D) Wait, here, give me the camera. I’ll record you this time. The footage shakes, briefly showing a tiled floor, then train tracks, before panning to a blurry face. The camera shakes for a moment before the image comes into focus, revealing a beautiful young man with dark hair. Seungkwan does a better job at the “interviewer voice”, but you’re no slouch either.                 YOU (O.S., CONT’D)         So, Seungkwan-ssi, what are your thoughts as we embark on a new adventure?                 SEUNGKWAN             (genuine)         I think it’s about to be wonderful.

D–2183

When the Blight started, both you and Seungkwan were in high school. Though only having known you since that start of your third year, you’ve quickly wormed his way into his life—visiting his house, having dinners with your family, and he even managed to force you into joining the badminton club with him.

Bees now officially extinct, the news proclaims, an effect of the ravaging of nearly all plant life. Asia in particular has suffered; the widespread rice shortages due to it becoming impossible to grow resulted in widespread famine. The extinction of plants used for feed, made food prices across the board skyrocket. Corn, it seems, is the only crop that can resist the Blight—and the rest of the world now has to adjust its staple food to mimic the old Americas.

“Seungkwan.” You prod his ribs.

“Mm?”

“What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?”

“Marry you.” You laugh, until you realize he isn’t joking.

“What?” Your voice pitches to an incredulous squeak.

“Marry you,” he repeats.

“Why, though?”

“I always wanted to get married,” Seungkwan replies, after a moment of pondering. “And if the world ends tomorrow, as of today you’d be my best candidate for marriage.” 

For a moment, you just look at him, eyes tracing over his features. Your steady gaze makes him shift, uncomfortable, wondering if he said something wrong. Eventually, you shrug, though there’s a twinkle in your eye as you quirk a smile at him.

“While I don’t support shotgun marriages, I’d make an exception for you and the end of the world.”

His breath catches, heart stuttering as he tries to parse your answer in his head. “Wha—you—”

“Come on, Seungkwan, don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” you groan, flopping sideways to plop your head against the armrest. Your legs tilt as you do, your foot brushing against his calf. He tries not to jolt at the contact.

“I’m sorry!” He pouts, trying to calm the uneven fluttering of his heart. You laugh, shifting your lean in the opposite direction, so your head lands on his lap. Despite having done it a thousand times before, he traces softly the way your hair falls, admiring the way its color contrasts with the color of his pants.

(Looking back, he’ll think about how that day changed things, even just by a little bit; how his gazes grew longer, noticing more how the sunsets glowed against your face as you walked home together every day, painting you golden. How you’d both gotten used to creative ways of shelter when mild dust storms come, thanking your luck each time that you had gotten home before it truly began.

He’ll think about how, a year from that day, he kissed you as he walked you home for the last time before you enter your separate colleges, swallowing the teasing took you long enough from your lips as he finished his shaky confession. 

He’ll think of how you exchanged second buttons like those characters from that anime you liked did, and the quiet promises to make things work even as the world seems to turn more barren than both of you can follow.

He’ll think of how three years from then, he gets on one knee, to your tearful yes and salty kisses. Your small marriage, with just your families, batchmates, and some professors, followed by a beautiful honeymoon in Jeju. Despite it all.

None of these decisions had anything to do with the end of the world, but you and Seungkwan made them, nonetheless.)

D-9 INT. A TENT – A TRAIN STATION SOMEWHERE BETWEEN SEOUL AND MOKPO – NIGHT The footage is grainy due to the lack of proper lighting; the camera shakes as Seungkwan seems to be trying to balance it on something. The tent is quite cramped; the inside is sparse, with only two sleeping bags and your knapsacks—Seungkwan’s with two camping pans attached with a carabiner.  The leather jacket you were wearing is now resting on one of the bags. You have both swapped your sturdy day pants for more comfortable, albeit worn, sweatpants. Out of context, it looks like a vlog filmed by two campers on a hike. The camera steadies as Seungkwan moves away. He moves to sit beside you. There is an easy intimacy as you thread your fingers together, almost mindlessly.                 SEUNGKWAN         BOO-log number 531. We passed by a sign that said Nonsan. That means we’re probably halfway there.                 YOU         We made progress better than expected, didn’t we? I estimated at least two weeks.                 SEUNGKWAN             (nodding, excited)         I thought the train tracks would have been ruined, since the stations are, but they’re surprisingly reliable.                 YOU         It’s true; of course there were times when we had to find our way around the tracks, or climb above anything that fell down over it, or go through some cornfields, but mostly, it seems we’ve been lucky.                 SEUNGKWAN         By the way—everyone, it looks like we’re in a tent in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled, we set this up in a convenience store.                 YOU             (laughing)         You ruined it! Now we can’t be funky backpackers with a tent on the train tracks.                 SEUNGKWAN             (playfully lecturing)         It’s good to be truthful, you know. What if kids watch this someday? We have to be good moral people.                 YOU             (with the remnants of a laugh)         Okay, okay. We set this up in the Seven Eleven inside one of the train stations. Abandoned, obviously. We made it in right before the dust storm hit.                 SEUNGKWAN         Another good news today is that we managed to barter something for food.                 YOU         Yeah. This one engineer or something—I think he’s a veteran? But we saw him tinkering on his porch and offered a trade, his corn for our cables, and now we have dinner.                 SEUNGKWAN             (joking)         It’s not jokbal, but it’ll do, I suppose.                 YOU             (groaning)         Oh my God, what I’d give for some jokbal right now. With bossam. And soju. SEUNGKWAN         I’ll be dreaming of that tonight.                 YOU         Anyway, everyone, we’ll end the log here, so we have enough batteries for a nice long BOO-log at Mokpo. Both you and Seungkwan wave your corn (dinner) at the camera. You reach forward, covering the lens with your palm. The clip ends.

D–20

Seungkwan walks around the house. He’s doing his last checks, checking between what’s in his bag and what’s in the rooms to parse if he’s missed anything—batteries, your wallets, matches, passports, birth certificates, first aid kit, water bottles, toothbrushes, all the canned food in the pantry, the sturdiest kitchen knife you both owned (wrapped in two layers of cloth), the Swiss knife he was gifted a few years back, flashlights, a whistle, and all the carabiners and hard cash you had were already packed.

He finds you in your shared bedroom. There are a bunch of wires there, evidently cut from various appliances. You’ve wrapped the cables as neatly as you could manage. On the bed, you’ve laid all your dry-fit shirts and the sturdiest pairs of pants you both have. Then, from the dresser, you’ve collected the most expensive jewelry the both of you own—well, all of them, but you separated the expensive ones in another pile. He points to the latter.

“What’s that for?”

“If cash fails, maybe gold won’t. I don’t know, just in case the currency collapses. But they’re worth bringing all the same.” Also, you hold out copies of both your health insurances. He opens his knapsack and quickly stuffs them in the same place as your other documents.

“Last resort kindling?” Seungkwan offers, showing the cluster of documents in his compartment. The remark draws a quick breath of a laugh from you.

“Probably.”

“How about the wires?”

“You never know when we’ll need some emergency engineer bullshit; plus, if it comes to it, the wires will probably be better barter material. Before you ask,” you hold up one hand, “I edited a zombie novel a few years back. But if that kid was pulling out of his ass, we’re fucked.”

Despite your disclaimer, the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact way you’re handling the situation makes something settle in him, as though all he needed was an anchor amid the chaos. He pulls you close, placing a kiss to your temple. The tension in your body melts as you press against him. For a moment, Seungkwan just holds you. A temporary anchor before you need to move.

Turning to him, you offer a quick peck to his lips before holding up his trusted camera bag, worn as it is. “Bring it,” you tell him firmly. “We need a little bit of happiness. Get all the SD cards you have, too. In case we just never leave Mokpo. It’s small enough to stuff in our pockets.”

Seungkwan can’t help it; he grabs your face and kisses you. The camera bag sits between you awkwardly, but he doesn’t care. He savors this, the familiar taste of it, the contours of your face that his hands have long since memorized. You pull away, but not before kissing his lips again, then his nose. He’ll never quite get used to the way you look at him, as though there is something new to love each time.

“We’re gonna be okay, my heart.”

D-4 EXT – A LONG STRETCH OF BEACH – MOKPO, SOUTH KOREA – SUNSET The camera captures a breathtaking sunset. The sky is a wash of oranges and pinks, the clouds purple yet lined in the light of the sun. Mokpo is on the southwest side of Korea; the view of the sunset is particularly beautiful, as the sun sinks down into the sea. There are faint silhouettes of islands both near and far from the shore. The waters are tranquil, and there are no sounds except for the steady wash of the waves on the shore.

The shot slowly pans to you. Your expression is tranquil, despite the dirt and tears across your clothes.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (soft, so soft you don’t hear)         Pretty.                 YOU             (clueless)         Hm?                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Nothing. Can you see Jeju Island from here?

He already knows where it is.                 YOU             (laughing softly, a little sad)         To be honest, I don’t know which piece of land I’m seeing is Jeju. A finger appears at the edge of the screen.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         There, that’s Jeju. Right behind the blob that looks like a hat.                 YOU             (squinting)         Oh! Right, that’s what it looks like. Beat.                 YOU (CONT’D) The view is beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea. Seungkwan hums the opening to Tears of Mokpo. You don’t recognize it until he softly begins to sing the opening lyrics.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (singing)         사공의 뱃노래 가물거리면…                 YOU             (laughing outright)         That doesn’t have anything to do with Jeju! He sings louder just to spite you. You playfully roll your eyes. Bending down, you unlace your boots and take off your socks, sinking your bare feet into the sand with barely-concealed relish. Seungkwan stops singing as he knows what you’re about to do.                 SEUNGKWAN         Careful; don’t step on anything sharp. As you move forward, the camera follows you. It is revealed that the beach is not so picturesque. The sea seems to have dried up some, and even here, bits and bobs of life float on the surface and linger in the sand.

There are the usual culprits: plastic bags, empty cans of alcohol and soda, and snack wrappers. Yet visible also on the camera are the following: bullet shells, shrapnel, a chair leg, a ragged pillow, and a cracked desktop monitor. As all this is visible, the camera centers on you laughing, splashing in the saltwater and enjoying the breeze in your hair.                 YOU             (calling; audio faint)         Kwannie! Come here! A beat. The camera zooms in on your face.                 YOU         Kwannie, come on! Hurry up!                 SEUNGKWAN             (proximity makes his voice loud)         Okay! A rustle. The camera is laid down, cloth (Seungkwan’s jacket) obscuring part of the footage. After a nudge, the cloth disappears from frame. Another figure, barefoot, joins you.

D–119

Jeju has officially been declared abandoned, lost for some other country to use as farmland. The radio announced the treaty ratification today. Seungkwan is a spectre around the house, listless and heartbroken. 

Months ago, when the conflict began to escalate in earnest, he began whatever arrangements he could to ensure his family was safe, moving them as near to the farming areas as he could manage and encouraging them to share whatever techniques they knew could help former cities now learning how to farm. The news does not make the sharp pang of grief dull any less.

He is at the age when he is to receive a conscription notice; Korea has since shifted its system to split soldiers into those who will either fight on the front lines of the Resource Wars, or serve by tilling the land and ensuring that there is enough corn for the population, however dwindling. There is no guarantee on which one he is to get, even if he did register himself as head of household (and should hypothetically be assigned the latter), but he is due to receive news in a few months’ time.

The promise of the notice hangs over both your heads. In the mornings, you spend ten more minutes just looking at him, as though you were memorizing the shapes and contours of his features. At night, he curls into you more tightly than before; once you’d have complained that it was too hot, now, you simply wrap your arms around him and let him sink his face into your hair.

“Hey, Seungkwannie.”

“Mm?”

“Let’s go on a trip.” The hand mindlessly running through your hair falters. 

He pulls away, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You keep your head low, pressed against his chest. “What?”

“Let’s go south. Yeosu, Mokpo, whatever, just near the beach, as close as possible to Jeju. Just…just see it, even from afar.” At his silence, you barrel on. “If we walk enough, we can make it in two weeks—a week if we can hitch a ride with one of those crop trucks or something—and then just another two weeks back, if we don’t settle in Mokpo outright.” 

“Food—”

“I can pack us as much as I can. We’ll need to ration, and possibly trade, but we can do it. The treaty is in place, and it’s most dangerous up north right now. Going south isn’t as big of a risk, and the weather has been looking good lately.” Finally looking up, you cup his cheek, tracing the skin with your thumb. He presses his lips to your wrist.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to Kwannie. I just thought you might want to say goodbye.”

“I…” he falters. It’s tempting. Unbearably so, despite the nagging at the back of his head that it would be better to leave it at that, keep his memory limited to the days you spent there dodging dust storms and falling in love. He doesn’t know how much it’s changed. How much the ocean might have even dried up. He doesn’t know if he can stomach to see it. “Give me a few days to think about it?”

“Of course, Kwannie. All the time you need.”

D+29

Seungkwan’s life has been demarcated into two. Before, and after. He goes through the motions of the government-run fields: waking up, clocking in, eating breakfast, tilling the soil, weeding, lunch, the occasional drills in case they were still expected to fight, transporting corn from one warehouse to another, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

Not a lot of people are here; many prefer to till fields they own, or collectively own; for once, agrarian reform straightened itself out at the start of the Blight. Yet with the dwindling population—slowly withering family trees—those lands acquired by the government grew.

Sometimes, Seungkwan thinks of home. He was lucky enough that the head of the center, Seungcheol, was kind enough to register his name as part of the deployed cadets under his supervision, despite the incomplete paperwork he had when he stumbled into his field, frail and dehydrated from lack of food and water.

Home remains now only in his memory, and in every replay of the Christmases he captured on camera. The soil is more unforgiving than before; it distracts from the loneliness.

EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The wedding is humbly decorated with dried corn leaves fashioned into flowers, as there are no real ones anymore (none within the budget, anyway). Guests came as they are, though everyone has made an effort to clean up more than usual. It is currently the reception, and the speakers are playing a quick beat. The guests are dancing, laughing, and cheering, though their movements are blurry and almost smeared onscreen (step-printing effect). In the middle of it, you stand, the only still figure in the frame. You’re smiling softly to someone behind the camera, very clearly in love. Cut to Seungkwan, in a similar position, the guests around him dancing as but blurs. He is wearing a similar expression. He begins to walk forward.

You meet in the middle, still the only clear figures to the camera, and begin to dance.  As though the dance were a spell, the surroundings cut to: INT. A MEDIUM-SIZED LIVING ROOM – NIGHT EXT. SEOUL STATION, IN RUINS – DAY INT. YOUR TENT (MAGICALLY ENLARGED) – NIGHT EXT. LONG STRETCH OF BEACH (UNPOLLUTED) – MOKPO – SUNSET Hold this image for a moment. The sea laps at your ankles. The bottom of both your garments brushes against the saltwater, but neither of you seem to notice. Both you and Seungkwan close the gap to meet in a tender kiss. Suddenly, cheers. You part, and are back to: EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The newly-married couple smiles and waves. The bottom of their garments are damp.

D+167

It seems surreal to have all the batteries he wants, and even a computer where he can replay all his footage—more than 4000 hours’ worth of it. It took a few months of work to earn enough credits and rank to access it, but Seungkwan pursued the goal with single-minded purpose. There is enough electricity in this center to run a few computers, and Seungkwan is its most regular customer, painstakingly going through each clip on the dozens of SD cards he has.

For footage so far back, from when you had just been married, there are parts where he no longer remembers what happened after the clips end. They remain in his memory as but colored ghosts, warm-tinged with nostalgia. Cabinets that would never be opened again, now filled, in his dreams, with infinities.

The house of his memories blurs with the house of his oneirism. In both, he subsists on sleep and daydreams. But memory will betray; it won’t tell him if the house he remembers has been altered by each remembrance. So he watches his videos. He walks through his house, now only alive in video and reconstructed by memory. He sees himself and he sees you, in all the different iterations you both were. Wonders if he could stitch both into narrative. Wonders if he could even bear to cut any scenes. He’s never thought about the violence of that act until now.

Inventories do not just catalogue possession; they also measure the potential of loss. It was a quote from one of your writing workshops, discussed over a late dinner. You could still afford some meat then; Seungkwan had saved just enough for a small slab of cured pork, which you would cut tiny slabs from for both of you to enjoy before bed.

He has five minutes left of his designated slot with the computer.

Seungkwan watches, and he catalogues.

D=0

Seungkwan only remembers in flashes—a gunshot. A scream. It’s only when he replays that moment in his mind that he realizes it was his voice. Barely a thud as your body is cushioned by the corn leaves. Dark red liquid, somehow both grainy and slippery on his hands as he drags you into the thick of the field, away from the path, trying desperately to stem the blood while minimizing your trail. Until finally, he collapses, feet unable to bring him a step further.

More flashes—your eyes, only ever kind. Even at your last moments. The way you hold his hand and place it over the pocket you keep his SD cards, as though reminding him one last time. The way your eyes search his face, first desperate, and then resigned. The way he leaned in when you opened your mouth, to hear your final words, only to feel the ghost of chapped lips brush against his ear. The gush of blood that dribbles past your mouth that tells him you’re gone.

(The Resource Wars felt like more a backdrop than anything else; you had come this far without any altercation. Yet even as you screamed that you were not thieves, just travellers, the gunshot rang. 

The cornfields weep with him as he leaves you behind, SD cards clutched in his bloody hand.)

D–4

TIME CUT TO: It is twilight, now. The camera is trained on the horizon. The sun has fully set, and night is beginning to settle in the sky. Only the barest hints of orange remain. The footage has already become slightly grainy due to the lighting. Neither you nor Seungkwan are on the camera. Instead, voices are heard while the darkness arrives. It is not evident whether the footage was taken accidentally, or on purpose.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (softly)         I’m glad we came. Really, even if we couldn’t get to Jeju. I’m glad. I’m glad it’s with you.                 YOU (O.S.)             (just as softly)         I’m glad too, my heart. You filmed the whole sunset, didn’t you? Start to finish?                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Yeah. Yesterday and today. I have so much footage that I don’t know what to do with.

Breath.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D)         Actually, that goes for all the BOO-logs. Even the ones from high school and college.                 YOU (O.S.)             (surprised)         You never tried editing them?                  SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         I have, but what then? There are hardly any theaters now. Nowhere else to post. And electricity is expensive.                 YOU (O.S.)         Okay, but if we both die, what do you think’s gonna happen to this camera? Seungkwan is many things; a prideful badminton player (before the Wars stopped sports events), a videographer, casual vlogger, and a corn field worker. You are also many things; an editor (before your company closed from too little employees), author, copywriter, and occasional tiller.

Both of you still enjoy nurturing sparks of creativity when they come.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Mm. someone picks it up and it gets immortalized in a post-war museum. And our videos will be a special feature.                 YOU (O.S.)         Oooh. And the war museum would be on a spaceship, with funky gravity and new plants and meat the astronauts domesticated from a different planet.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         And there’s a new jokbal. Call that out of this world delicious.                 YOU         Stop! Despite the terrible joke, you both laugh, then let the conversation drift into comfortable silence. The sun has fully set. Nothing much can be discerned visually from the footage.                 YOU (O.S., CONT’D)         Hey, Seungkwannie.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Mm?                 YOU (O.S.)         If you had the chance, like computers and steady electricity, would you edit all the BOO-logs into a short film?                  SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (skeptical, but thinks about it seriously)         What would the plot even be? A married couple traveling to Mokpo, dodging dust storms and chasing each other through cornfields? Watching the stars at night?                 YOU (O.S.)             (earnest)         Yeah! Or, y’know, make it semi-autobiographic, like two lovers wanting to visit where they first had their honeymoon. Or maybe I’m sick and you want to take me to the sea one last time? The footage earlier could fit with that storyline.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Don’t even say that!                 YOU (O.S.)             (laughing softly, apologetic)         Sorry, sorry. But if you do make a short film, I want to be the first to see it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you work.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         What about you, then? Would you write a book about us?                 YOU (O.S.)         Oh, definitely. And you’d be the first to read it. The footage cuts.

D+182

Seungkwan replays the footage again. Beside him, Vernon fiddles with a pen.

“What do you think about making this a short film?” Seungkwan asks. 

Vernon stops. 

Seungkwan may be their newest addition, but the rest of the crew has grown protective. He brings light to their conversations, effortless in his ability to entertain and bring laughter. Mingyu asks him of his favorite foods, especially the ones he misses from Jeju, even if recreating them is near impossible. Seungcheol reprimands anyone who tries to bully him into giving up his share of rations. Junhui has begun to joke more, noticing how Seungkwan seems to be particularly into his humor. 

Yet everyone recognizes the sadness that still clings to his heels.

Vernon looks, for a long moment, at the monitor, frozen with a picture of a smiling face he’s never known—never personally, only ever through the screen and Seungkwan’s stories, always shared in quiet whispers in the privacy of his room.

He knows, though. Knows that this person was real. They loved, and were loved. It speaks in how the camera follows whoever is in the frame. The cuts of certain clips, as though either the person behind the camera joined their partner or had a moment that could not be captured in film. Most of all, it was the way whoever was in the frame would, without fail, smile at the person behind it. 

“I think,” he replies, choosing his words deliberately, “that you are in a unique position to dictate how someone is to be remembered by those who never knew them. And…” he hesitates, wondering if two months of these quiet conversations is still too little to be so candid with his friend, especially when talking of loss.

So, so much loss.

Seungkwan answers that question for him. “It’s okay, Vernon-ah.”

“…Well, I just wanted to say that it’s a burden to bear, is all.”

EXT – A CORNFIELD UNDER THE STARS – NIGHTTIME The stars have emerged, visible in all their glory. After the start of the Blight, when the population began to dwindle, electricity and many other resources became scarce. Much of the light pollution that was once a problem has disappeared. Brilliant dots twinkle overhead. To you and Seungkwan, it could pass for the Milky Way. The POV seems to be at a low point; stalks of corn are visible at the edges of the frame. Yet the stars are bright, captured exceedingly well.

You’re softly speaking aloud Laura Gilpin’s The Two-Headed Calf. It was one of the poems you memorized in college, as a creative writing major. YOU (O.S.)             (as though from far away)         Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual. Long beat.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Twice as many stars as usual…let’s look up together.                 YOU (O.S.)         I see the stars, my heart, but I’m tired…

A breath hangs in the air. Some rustle of cloth, as though someone had adjusted so you fit together. A soft sigh.                 YOU (O.S.) Good night, Kwannie.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         …Good night, darling. End.

note. are the screenplay bits from the short film? the raw sd card clips? his memories? distorted memories? guess we'll never know. nonlinear bc grief is nonlinear. pls tell me your thoughts (even/esp if u didn't get the story lol) take care of yourselves always <3

[aceofwhump]

Ace, have you read Project Hail Mary? I remember you being a fan of the author's other book The Martian (which I haven't read either). I've heard so many people rave about this book but I'm just so intimated by the length and I'm worried all the science stuff is going to give me a headache 😂. Was wondering if it was worth the read?

YES I HAVE AND IT IS SO WORTH READING!!!!!

I adore Project Hail Mary so much. Actually I just love all of Andy Weir's books. They're all so good. He's one of my favorite authors. But PHM especially is amazing. I loved it.

My favorite things about Andy Weir's books is that they're all super hopeful. The main characters go through some serious crap but the books all end with hope and I love that. There's like ZERO romance in them which I love. Mark Watney and Ryland Grace are so ace coded. And Weir includes a lot of science but he presents it all in such a humorous way that it's fun to read. He's really good at explaining the scientific aspects in simple ways. Some examples of the humor:

“Me: “This is obviously a clog. How about I take it apart and check the internal tubing?” NASA: (after five hours of deliberation) “No. You’ll fuck it up and die.” So I took it apart.” - The Martian

“The screen went black before I was out of the airlock. Turns out the “L” in “LCD” stands for “Liquid.” I guess it either froze or boiled off. Maybe I’ll post a consumer review. “Brought product to surface of Mars. It stopped working. 0/10.” - The Martian

"The RTG is a generator. It’s a paltry amount of power, compared to what the rover consumes, but it’s not nothing. It’s one hundred watts. It’ll cut an hour off my total recharge time. Why not use it? I wonder what NASA would think about me fucking with the RTG like this. They’d probably hide under their desks and cuddle with their slide rules for comfort." - The Martian

“I penetrated the outer cell membrane with a nanosyringe." "You poked it with a stick?" "No!" I said. "Well. Yes. But it was a scientific poke with a very scientific stick.” - Project Hail Mary

“Oh thank God. I can’t imagine explaining “sleep” to someone who had never heard of it. Hey, I’m going to fall unconscious and hallucinate for a while. By the way, I spend a third of my time doing this. And if I can’t do it for a while, I go insane and eventually die. No need for concern.” - Project Hail Mary

“I’m a scientist! Now we’re getting somewhere! Time for me to use science. All right, genius brain: come up with something! …I’m hungry. You have failed me, brain.” - Project Hail Mary

It's so good. Please give it a shot. I love these books. Artemis is really good too and it's about a female smuggler named Jazz. It's not as good as PHM and The Martian but it's still super good.

[latkejoon]

i miss my ex