#i had to dig out my notes to find all of the meanings im The Worst

[lix-ables]

ʚ : TURNING SKZ ON WHILE MAKING OUT ₊̣

note. helloooo !! please take this as a mini filler while i write skz + bondage, skz + corruption and god knows what else . enjoy !! ( based on an ask i got for hyunjin, decided to do it all for the members !! )

mdni, smut includes – making out duh, leaving lipstick stains on them, grinding, marking, handjobs, cockwarming thats it ig . (wc 1207)

B.CHAN … either you’re on the couch or on the floor with him leaning against the couch while you’re on his lap. his fingers are in your hair, and that's how he tugs you close before leaning in to kiss you. what would start off as something innocent, would actually turn into chan having his hands all over you, his fingers caressing your skin, or slipping them inside your shirt to feel you up, obviously being very subtle about it. that is until you grind up against him, your hips brushing his crotch and he lets out a sigh before pulling away from you to look at your face. “what?” you frown a little, your eyes following chan’s as he points to his now forming boner. “i didn’t m-mean to!” “it’s alright love, it just means i don't have to deal with this alone?”

L.MINHO … from the very start, minho can’t get his hands off you, exploring every inch of your skin, before pulling you against him so you can feel his dick through his sweats. “guess i missed you a little too much today,” he mumbles between kisses, his hand fumbling to shut the door close. your nails dig into his shirt when he moves to your neck, tugging your sweater to expose a bit of your shoulder. his kisses trail all the way from your lips to your neck and finally rest on your shoulder. “so fucking gorgeous,” he smiles against your skin when your hand reaches to cup his boner over the sweats and you whine when he pressed into your hand a bit more. “you gonna do something about that?”

S.CHANGBIN … changbin did NOT expect to get turned on so quickly, but from the moment you climbed onto his lap, to the second your fingers trailed and traced every bit of his chest, he felt goosebumps. his hands were at your lower back within seconds pulling you close to him, only for you to lean close to his face, a smile resting on yours before pressing a single kiss to his lips. changbin deepened the kiss before you could even pull away, his hand now cupping your face, moving down to wrap his fingers around the back of your neck, until you find something poking from under you. “fuck im sorry,” changbin breathes to your neck, as he moves forward to press kisses to your neck. “sorry about …?” “my dick,” he laughs, nuzzling his nose to your skin.

“we can stop if you –” “do you want –” you and changbin start to say at the same time before he urges for you to continue. “i was gonna ask if you wanted me to help you, because..” you whisper to his lean when you lean in close, your hips moving against his clothed cock which changbin decided really wasn't helping, “…it’s clear that your dick loves this.”

H.HYUNJIN … make out sessions with hyunjin could last hours if you both wanted it to – which leads you to right now. you’re sitting in front of him, his lips swollen from kissing him, hair so long and messy now that they covered his eyes a little, his sweater hanging off one shoulder exposing the part of skin that you had earlier marked, along with the reddish marks on the side of his neck and collarbone. the corner of his lips was smeared with your dark lipstick, and he lets out a sigh which came out as a pant. “fuck.” he mumbles to himself like he couldn't believe what just happened. “fuck is the right word to describe it..” you start, moving to him once again, your hand accidentally brushes his crotch, and you feel him twitch a little under your touch, and he shifts in his place on the couch. “did you..” “don’t finish that sentence,” he warns, eyes glaring at you just as you continue, “like that? you definitely did, oh my god.”

H.JISUNG … make out sessions with jisung are the complete opposite compared to hyunjin’s – they’re sloppy and messy and heated. which leads you to currently having your fingers reaching inside his sweats to bring out his dick, your thumb caressing the tip as you lean in to continue kissing jisung. his lips are swollen now, and so are yours – a bit more red compared to his but as you pull away, you notice his face now littered with your lipstick stains and he chuckles at your expression. jisung’s fingers rest around your wrist, helping you stroke him, before you squeeze it a little, your grip tightening around his length, and you earn a moan from the boy in front of you. “fuck do that again,” he mumbles, his hand reaching to tug on your hair.

L.FELIX … “baby we have a long day tomorrow,” felix starts to say when you lean in to kiss the corner of his lips, trailing those kisses all the way to his neck, staying there a bit longer than intended. you know he’s given in when he has his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, and he mumbles how pretty you looked. you wrap your leg around his, tangling them together, when you accidentally brush your thigh against his dick, and he lets out a low groan that gets you wet immediately. “i-im sorry!” you start, but felix just reaches for your hand, resting it against his crotch with a smile on his face. “you just need to finish what you’ve started, don’t you love?”

K.SEUNGMIN … not the type to get turned on that quick, but when you start grinding against him, seungmin helps you out. his hands rest on either side of your thighs, teasing you once or twice by thrusting his hips into yours, mentioning how you started it when you begin to whine and protest. “you’re the one doing this to yourself, baby,” he starts, while also shifting under you to get more sounds out of you. “im merely just… complying to what you want – to tease me, hm?” seungmin would in turn tease you just because he can, and also that its his way of trying to distract himself from knowing the fact you’re turning him on while you’re making out.

Y.JEONGIN … definitely would NOT waste time when he knows what he wants – which is why you’re in the situation that you’re in right now – in jeongin’s living room, on his couch, cockwarming, while he scrolls on his phone. god forbid he takes a selfie with you right there, because, after the make-out session you had, your face pretty much looked fucked out. “you are at fault here,” he mumbles into your neck when you whine at him thrusting his hips into you twice, your walls clenching around his cock. “who pounced on me?” “no one fucking pounced on you!” you start when he interrupts you with a kiss on your lips. “well you started grinding against me, offered me a blowjob and also make me give in to this,” he smiles, pointing at the way your body is pushed up against his, your nails digging into his skin which you knew would leave some marks soon.

🎮 . taglist . @telesvng @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @comet-falls @niijo @chvnnie @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @hwan-g @idek-at-thispoint @es-kay-zee @writerracha @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa @zoiescastle @compersian @jilixcuddles @teaspeungmin @eulaenthusiast @chriscentric @iadorethemskz @abcdefgiwsmcty @l3visbby @yukichan67 @hoshologies @zee17 ( green and bolded means i cant tag you ! this maybe has something to do with your visibility, which you can change in your settings ^^ )

© lix-ables. translating and/or reposting is not allowed.

[akunya]

“a humans touch.”

pairings: malleus draconia x m!reader

summary: you’re curious about malleus’s horns, so he lets you touch them.

tw: frottage (?), dubious consent, touching, implied age diff., size diff, etc. sfw.

notes: some food after a year.. thank you so much for all of the messages you’ve left me in the meantime. i can’t express how happy they’ve made me.

this is sfw, but i promise next fic will be filthy. enjoy!

“can i.. touch them?”

malleus’s head cocks to the side a little, a bit puzzled over your request. you and him were just lounging around the diasomnia dorm until you spoke up, breaking him out of his reading session.

“touch.. what exactly?” the fae questioned as he watched you moved closer to him, until you were staring at the top of his head. “oh, my horns? is that what you want to touch, child of man?” he couldn’t help but chuckle, closing his book and putting it on the coffee table. you nodded silently. sometimes, you were too adorable (in his eyes) for your own good.

“sorry if it’s a weird thing to ask! they just look so.. intriguing?” your voice trailed, trying to find the right words to describe his horns without offending the prince. “we don’t have many fae or dragons where im from.” malleus smiled fondly. he nodded before leaning down. he was much taller than you, with your little form barely reaching his torso — and he adored it that way. it added onto your undeniable cuteness.

“i don’t mind. i trust that you’ll be gentle with them. touch as much as you like, y/n.” his deep voice made you feel warm, nodding as you sat up straight, a tad guilty that he was straining his neck to appease you.

and so, you started your little examination. your fingers lightly grazed upon the tips of his horns, slowly rubbing up and down. malleus gulped. his brow furrowed for a split second. not wanting to comment on your actions, his fangs digging into his lips to keep quiet. his horns weren’t extremely sensitive, but they did have feeling, and every time you touched — it sent a shiver down his spine.

however, you were too engrossed in his strange anatomy to care. mumbling to yourself, you let your hands travel further down his horns, paying attention to the little crevices and ridges on the sides. “amazing. it almost feels like scales, in a way. it’s a bit.. leathery..?” nails delightfully scraped the faes horns.

he hummed happily, almost purring at the special attention from the boy he liked. other than you shuffling on the couch to reach higher, the room was quiet — except for malleus’s little huffs every now and then. your fingers kept traveling lower, until you gently caressed the skin where his horns had grown from. careful hands followed the scales, eyes widening at the plethora of little ridges that adorned his forehead. “these were here all along..?”

“are you surprised, little human?” the fae chuckled, looking up at you. his cat-like pupils bore into your own, bright green irises making him all the more enticing. it was amazing how other worldly he was: you couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a dream. even with hair slightly disheveled, malleus still carried a powerful yet dreamlike aura to him. the dorm leader looked as if he stepped right out of a fairy tale.

“a little. i wasnt expecting them to be on your forehead, too.” malleus felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile, and before you knew it, he pulled you onto his lap. you gasped in surprise, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and moving you as if you were a feather, until you straddled him properly and looked down towards him. your face was red as the older man chuckled.

“you got to touch wherever you wanted, so surely you’d let me do the same to you, hm?” he laughed at your stuttering, speechless as his hands went lower. claws dug into the thick of your thighs before traveling back up, a careful index finger lightly traced around your crotch. he was teasing you on purpose. malleus would give you everything, but that didn’t mean he disliked being mischevious every once in a while, especially when your reactions were priceless.

“m-malleus—“ you tried to speak up, eyes scrunching shut when sharp nails circled around your crotch again. you were a toy in his hands, and that idea seemed to only spur you on even more. shaky breaths left your lips as he continued to rake and touch your frail frame.

soft lips grazed the shell of your ear before parting to speak. “sshhh, little human. you don’t want anyone to hear us, do you? some diasomnia students might still be around..” malleus chuckled, leaving a small kiss before nuzzling into your neck.

his body hunched over yours, as if he was caging you in his arms as much as he could. a hefty sigh made the fae relax, you scent letting him unwind.

on the contrary, the close proximity only made you feel even more antsy. never have you been this close to the dorm leader. what started as innocent curiosity led to something much more interesting, with you having no choice but to stay still and let him explore your own human body.

“i don’t want to waste any time, so behave, okay? let me really see how a human reacts to touch.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 23

Dick Grayson + prostate massage/torture

On the shorter side, since I got another assignment to write. Thankfully ill be done with this class after Christmas, which hopefully means less stress.

On another note, the spiderman 2 game arrived in the mail and now im waiting excitedly for my schedule to clear up enough that I can play it :)

Reader isn’t actually present, but is mentioned.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Dick huffed softly where he sat, his hips rocking slowly back and forth unconsciously, like he had no control of the action. His fingers dug into the wood of the kitchen table he had sat himself in when the buzzing of the toy you’d left in him got too strong.

He shivered as the speed of the toy suddenly slowed, meaning you must have turned it down on whatever app you used to control it from your phone. Dick exhaled roughly as he almost slumped against the table, his muscles twitching as he ground his teeth, clenching his eyes shut as he felt sweat running down his face and torso.

The toy was pushed perfectly against his prostate, leaving his knees buckling and legs shaking whenever you flicked it on. Normally Dick would have allowed himself to moan and cry as much as he wanted, but it was the middle of the day, and even if he was inside your guy’s apartment, he still felt a little too proud to become the mess he knew he could be when you weren’t even there.

The only way you were involved was controlling the dial of the toy inside him. Dick couldn’t help but squeeze around his, giving a gruff moan at the unyielding hardness of a toy inside him, feeling so different from your cock when he would ride you.

This had all been his idea in the first place, he had even bought the toy himself and downloaded the app onto your phone, but as he felt the buzzing suddenly shoot up to one of the higher settings he almost regretted it. He knew he could easily take it out, but there was also something so delicious about the way he felt owned by you in some way. Like you were in full control of him and his pleasure, a choked keen leaving his mouth as the toy buzzed cruelly against his sensitive prostate.

Dick ended up folding his arms on the table and burying his face in them, the rocking of his hips growing more bold as his teeth dug into his spit slick lip. He released the grip on his lip as suddenly the toy kicked into the highest setting, digging into his prostate in a way that had his entire body seizing up, his legs kicking and his arms tensing.

His cock was drooling, soaking up the inside of his boxers as he gasped and panted, his insides squeezing and releasing around the toys relentless buzzing, the need to cum only rising in his veins as his breathing grew quicker and shorter. He was so close, almost there- when suddenly the toy turned down to one of the lowest settings again.

The sudden change in the toy had Dick slumping against the table, his body aching from his hard he had been clenching his muscles and suddenly released them. The process repeated again and again, the toy kicking up and almost torturing that spot inside him, leaving him keening and gasping, almost clawing at the table as his legs twitched and kicked. But then suddenly it would return to that low setting he could barely feel following the brutal pace the toy had been in just before.

Dick wasn’t even sure how long the process repeated, only that his head was growing stuffy and he was sure that was a pool of drool on the table, as he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to close his mouth as he kept huffing and moaning.

His eyes fluttered and every single muscle in his body burned at how hard he clenched them all, as once more the rapid pace of the toy brought him closer to orgasm, wheezed keens and stuttery moans forcing their way out of his throat as he grew close once more.

Part of him was sure you were gonna turn it off right as he neared the end, but you didn’t, and finally he felt the sweet feeling of release. Dick was quick to clamp a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t have howled at how it felt, the orgasm running through his veins like thick syrup and leaving his head spinning, his hips jumping and thighs twitching as he spilled inside his boxers, further soaking the already precum covered fabric.

Through all of it, the toy still buzzed on, though it did slow down after a while as you must have assumed he had cum, especially after all that. Dick needed a while to come back to earth, the acrobat vigilante shakily getting to his feet and moving into the bathroom on easy feet.

There was no way he would have stood in the shower, so he ended up filling the bathtub, kicking off his soppy boxers with a wet plap as they landed on the floor, and just sliding into the tub, not caring about anything one would normally do before getting into a bathtub like that.

Dick had almost fully relaxed once more, his head laying on the edge of the tub when the toy started buzzing again, a soft moan leaving him as his prostate still felt raw from his former orgasm, but he couldn’t keep his cock from giving a twitch, his eyes falling shut as he settled into the water, ready to go again.

[mitsvriii]

"Nothing's New"

In which your partner is never going to pay attention to you, because they’re too focused on their dead lover

Bell’s notes: “writer bell goes too far with this fic-” im /j no ones gonna say that, angst powers pls work tho, like im asdlkfjawel;fjsd;jf;lska, i cant write dude, let me like, plan this out in my head before writing nonsense, LIKE BRO, feral over angst LORD, 100k likes and you get part 2 /jjjj, growling i love angst, MWHAHAHA, sorry ely, yuka, mhie, snob, and zee if you read this 😔😔😔, i listened to “IT Girl” while writing this 😋, got carried away with Ayato’s part oopsies, i believe Guizhong for the ladies but whatever 😔😔😔, cut out Wanderer & Childe in the end because i’m TIRED, not proofread

Story details: Ayato lowkey a bitch, scratch that highkey, reader has self-doubt, Neuvilette doesn’t mean to be mean he just ISSS, GUIZHONG DID NOTHING STOP MAKING HER THE ONE IN BLAME IN THESE ZHONGLI SCENARIOS, oh and I couldn’t be bothered with Xiao’s part like a quarter through he’s such a flexible yet straight character, it’s the way you can tell when I got lazy with each part, chance Xiao & Zhongli are gonna be ooc as i’ve never written anything but short headcanons for them before

Characters & Triggers: Ayato, Neuvilette, Xiao, & Zhongli;  reader has self-doubt, mention of death, mention of martial neglect

Reader details: female reader in Ayato’s part is explicit. female reader in Neuvilette’s part can be interpreted with the way you read it. the other parts, however, shouldn’t have a specified reader type. reader’s personality, race/ethnicity, height, physical descriptions, or anything of the sort is not mentioned. if anything is let me know and i’ll edit it. 

Ayato: No surprise the Yashiro Commissioner doesn’t pay attention to his new wife, the one that he didn’t marry first. You knew that he didn’t love you, and most likely never would because you were, in fact, the second pick. Actually, it was probably in the hundreds based on the amount of marriage arrangement offers Ayato had gotten considering he was one of the biggest figures in Inazuma. It didn’t matter, but he most likely picked you because your clan was a small one to put it lightly, so he most likely chose it, and you, because it wouldn’t be a hassle with the press. But of course, he would choose the person and clan that seemed, “easy”. It hurt seeing some of the people’s sympathetic stares, such as Ayaka’s, Thoma’s, and a few of the older women working in the estate. You got used to the lack of greeting from Ayato when he got off work, the lack of warmth beside you at night. You found it hilarious, although you were hysteric at the time as you had just found out that Ayato was off that day and neglected to see you, that he never, ever laid down in the same bed as you. It doesn’t matter no matter how hard you work around the estate, how long you sit up doing his work, which you soon quit once he yelled at you like a homeless dog, or even the distinct flower you made out of one of Ayato’s favorite sweets that he ignored. Not even a glance at your general direction, either. After a while, you decided to do some digging on his past wife, only to find out that she was in fact near perfect. Perfect reputation, perfect everything, to put it shortly. Shortly after asking Ayaka what happened to her, by pulling the sad, guilty wife card, you found out she was a victim of an assassination attempt that turned into a success. Of course, Ayato and his perfect wife would only be torn apart by death. It was poetic, and it made you sick. So what were you to do but endure the slow torture that you and Ayato’s marriage was? After all, nothing you could do could change how he felt about you. 

Neuvillette: The famous hydro dragon, at least to those who knew his ‘secret’. His past lover, unfortunately, died before him, no doubt to his immortality. Of course, you would soon die, maybe in a few decades but, hey, it wasn’t like he would miss you. You could only wait awake at night as Neuvillette went to fix himself his own meal, despite you staying up to cook him one and await for his return from work. It’s not that was the only time he never paid attention to you, after all the man had most likely been grieving his wife for centuries at this point in time. So what were you to do besides stay and watch this man be emotionally constipated around you? Why did he even marry you in the first place, then? It couldn’t be because his past wife resembled you, and it certainly wasn’t because you both acted the same. Was it because he needed someone to cling to? I mean, you weren’t exactly someone who seemed to not fit the criteria of a compassionate co-worker who would comfort Neuvillette in his times of distress. Did Neuvilette only come to you because you were his way of grieving? It would make partial sense, to cling to the nearest piece of comfort to help with the pain of loss. It made you feel like nothing but an object meant for his emotional wants, but in reality, that’s all you ever are and will ever be to him. 

Xiao: The famous adeptus long ago, had someone close to him. Shame they fell to waste during the archon wars, along with the other adepti. It was no surprise that everyone familiar with Liyue stories knew about the two of them together, which unfortunately included you. It didn’t pain you that much until your oh-so-loveable boyfriend got distracted by two kids playing with a Xiao lantern and one of her. After that, it only devolved into more. The lack of visits to your room in the inn, the lack of responses whenever you left your little notes for him near your meet-up place, and the extreme lack of thank-you-notes whenever you left Xiao almond tofu. It didn’t matter that you started to skip and completely ignore doing all of these things just to see if he would notice because the adeptus failed to appear in your room just to check in to see if you were okay. This behavior was unlike him, at least in the sense of him completely ignoring you. The only answer you could think of, that logically made sense, of course, was that he was reminded of his past loved one because of the run-in with the lanterns you two had while out in Liyue. So in terms, he seemed to disconnect with you because of the memories of his past significant other? You knew the adepti didn’t die peacefully, you could tell that much from the stories, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that also applied to Xiao’s past lover. There was nothing you could do about it though, because if you knew Xiao, he wouldn’t talk about her to you nor push her aside for you.

Zhongli: Guizhong. Of course, you were familiar with the name, everyone in Liyue was. Everyone might be a stretch considering the visitors and children, but the point’s been made. Morax and Guizhong were close. Close in a sense of possibly having relationship affairs but that was only explicit to you because of the way your lover would glace at glaze lilies. You couldn’t call him your lover, could you? Not with the way he would hum to the glaze lilies, the way his eyes would also drift away from you whenever you talked as you took strolls through Guilu Plains, and the way he would opt to tell stories of specific tales of his time as Morax, ones that included Guizhong in some way. It got to the point where you had to make up tasks that you had to do daily just to get away from the walks you two took, not to hear the different-yet-similar stories of Morax and totally not Guizhong. It was childish of you to be doing so, you had yourself convinced, as you couldn’t blame Guizhong for any of it. She had no part of this besides well, besides being your number one stressor for the past few weeks. It was tiring yet somehow for the sake of not wanting a glare or side-eye from Zhongli about his stories, which you never thought you’d get that tired of hearing, you kept your mouth shut, despite how hard it was. You knew it would only take so much more, though, before you said something about it. 

[cheeseboi420]

Of A Feather - Chapter One Preview

A/N: hi everybody!!! I am super duper stoked to present u all with the first 2k words of Of A Feather, aka the "what if Jason's bio mom didnt SUCK" fic. Im hoping to have the full chapter ready for publishing in the next week or two! Big thanks to everyone who's talked to me abt this fic so far, and an ESPECIALLY big thanks to @jayladfanpage for basically being my jaybin encyclopedia while i work my way through this fic!!! This warning will be more applicable in future chapters but it should be noted that this fic is NOT canon compliant and does significantly change/recontextualize a couple things about Jason's background, but you the audience get to find out about all that in real time alongside Jason lmao!! Anyways, without further adieu, please enjoy this preview ❤️

TW: mentions of drug use, teen pregnancy, allusions to underage sex

You expect this evening to play out like the one before it. And the one before that. And the one before that. Your routine hasn't changed in the last 13 years. Why should it? It serves you well enough, keeps you alive and… Well, that's about all it does for you. Not that you're looking for more! For the most part, you are… content, maybe isn't the correct word. Complacent fits a little better, but still isn't wholly accurate. You're content in the knowledge that your boy is safe and loved, somewhere far away from the trouble that chases you. You're complacent in your own quiet misery. The longing and loneliness had been a bitter pill to swallow those first few years of running, but after this long you've learned not to complain. God knows no one would listen if you did.

You've got a shitty box pizza in the oven. This will be your dinner, tomorrow's breakfast, and tomorrow's dinner. You won't particularly enjoy any of the meals, but they'll sustain you well enough. These days, food brings you little, if any joy. Meal times are a chore to slog through before the distraction that work brings or the sweet embrace of sleep. You look forward to, more than anything, going to bed. Not because you're tired (though there is a bone deep weariness that permeates- that no amount of rest could ever fix) but because bed means sleep, and sleep means dreams, and dreams mean a chance to hold your baby again.

You don't dream of Jason every night, but every morning, you wake thinking of him. Is he still asleep right now? Having breakfast? Is he eating well? Is he happy? Is he happy? Is he happy?

By the time you push your way through breakfast most mornings the cacophony of thoughts revolving around your son quiets to a dull roar in the back of your mind. It's better that way, you think. If you thought about him as much as your mind seemed to want you to, you'd never get anything done.

Life carries on, you suppose. However dreary and dull that life may be.

At one time you'd found the whole thing very exciting- though not in a particularly enjoyable way. The adrenaline rush has worn off over the years, no longer do you feel as though death is nipping at your heels. The paranoia never fades though. Even if your doom does not cast a shadow over you, you're always looking over your shoulder, always ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

You keep a bag packed and ready in the closet by the front door for when you have to leave this place, too. Though, you think it's buried under a winter jacket and your spare blankets. You really ought to dig it out, keep it easily accessible. You should do that but… it's been a long day. You want to eat your shitty pizza, lay down on your futon, and let the sound of tv static fill your studio apartment, lulling you to sleep.

You're getting too comfortable here, you think. You've lived in Michigan for nearly a year now. It is simultaneously entirely too close to and entirely too far from Gotham. The apartment itself was a godsend after spending most of your time sleeping in cars, tents, whatever unfortunate business was willing to employ you, anywhere you could, really- sure it has bugs, and the windows don't close all the way, and you're fairly certain it'll only take one more bad winter storm for the place to come crumbling down, but rent is dirt cheap, and the slumlord you rent from didn't ask for any ID when you signed your ‘lease.’ You're fairly certain that thing's not legally binding anyways- it was written on a cocktail napkin for Christ's sake. That didn't stop you from using a fake name when signing it. You can never be too careful.

You haven't seen your landlord since you moved in anyways. You don't ask for maintenance when things break, you fix them yourself or just learn to live with them broken. You deliver your rent by slipping a cash stuffed envelope with your name (your fake name, the one you signed your lease with, the one you use at work, the one you'd use at coffee shops if you ever went to any) on it through the slot in the office door. You do your best to be invisible. You don't cause problems, and you don't go out of your way to fix them for others. You make no friends or enemies. You've left no impact on the many places you've been, the cities you've drifted through.

The only evidence you've gone anywhere at all in your life is a stack of postcards, held together with a worn rubber band, sitting at the bottom of your go-bag. The only evidence of a life lived before that is in a similarly bound stack of polaroids, held together with a too-small paperclip. Every now and then, you'll buy a bottle of cheap wine to chug as you pour over the old photographs. Only when you leave for a new city do you dare to touch the stack of unsent postcards.

You can't bear to look at the photos too often, a painful reminder of your own failings. A reminder of the stupid, reckless little girl you'd been and the shell of a woman you'd become in the aftermath.

Girls like you'd been were a dime a dozen in Crime Alley. Really, you weren't even a particularly special or severe case. Sure, you did drugs, but you weren't on crack. You were just a bit of a stoner! Sure you'd been sixteen and pregnant, without the slightest idea which of your former paramours had knocked you up- but it was all above board, really! None of those men had forced you to do anything. In fact, you sought them out of your own volition for all sorts of reasons. Attention, cheap affection, cheaper drugs, something to do, somewhere to go when the home you'd once shared with your father and brother had become too stifling to bear.

It's all your own fault, really.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

It's easier to swallow than the alternative: that you were a vulnerable and unloved thing, eating from any hand that would feed you, until the hand that feeds decides to beat.

This, you think, is why you shouldn't think too hard about the past. It doesn't do you any good to dwell on it.

You force yourself to focus on the present, on the here and now. The scratchy polyester blend of the futon cushions, the scent of cheap cheese melting in the oven, the distant sound of sirens, and howling wind outside your apartment. There's no sense in thinking about Gotham now, not when you're so far from it.

You sit up on the futon, no longer content to lounge and let your mind wander. Instead you task yourself with flipping through channels on TV, seeking something mind numbing enough to distract you from your unusually strong urge to reminisce.

The Wonder Years? No, you don't want to watch anything about a family.

Alf? No, that puppet creeps you out.

Cops? Fuck that.

You're about to resign yourself to another night of murmuring the (mostly incorrect) answers to Jeopardy questions at your tv, when you're startled by a knock at your door.

A… knock… at your door.

No one ever knocks on your door. You don't get mail, you don't have friends, if your landlord wanted something, you're willing to bet the greasy bastard wouldn't be willing to haul himself all the way up to the fifth floor at nearly 10 PM.

Oh God… Did… Did he find you? Is this it? Are you going to die in the upper peninsula of Michigan, of all places?!

No, no. You have to stay calm. This could be anything. It's just a knock at the door. It could be anyone!

Oh lord, it could be anyone.

You keep the tv on, hoping that the sound of Alex Trebek grilling folks on useless trivia will cover your footsteps as you creep towards your front door. You hold your breath as you press yourself against it, double checking that all three of your locks are secure before you risk a glance out the peephole.

When you look out into the hall you're surprised, and frankly a bit confused by the sight before you. Standing at your door is a boy, dark haired and bright eyed. He stands straight but not particularly tall- he can't be more than five feet. He's glancing around the hall, rocking back and forth on his heels. He's wearing a red sweatshirt and jeans, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Despite his small stature he holds an air of determination that makes you think he must feel quite old for his age- you get that, you were the same way in your own youth. A chip too big for your shoulder.

You're so focused on studying him that it startles you when he leans forward to knock again. You jolt, accidentally kicking the door (with your bare feet too, damn does that hurt your poor toes) and responding to his knock-knock-knock with a solid knock of your own.

“Hello?” The boy calls. “Anybody home?”

“I don't have any money!” You call back, cursing yourself for the shake in your voice. You should not be this rattled by a random adolescent on your doorstep. “So, if you're selling popcorn, or cookies, or whatever, you should try next door.”

The boy rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a boy scout!” He says. “I'm looking for-”

And then the shoe drops; he says your name. Your full name. Not your fake name, that you use at work, and on envelopes, and in hypothetical coffee shops. Your real name.

It takes every bit of emotional regulation you can muster not to spiral into a full blown panic right then and there because good God, did He send a child to finish you off? The cruel irony is not lost on you. Come to think of it, this boy on your doorstep does bear an uncanny resemblance to-

“My name is Jason Todd,” the boy continues. “And uh… well, I might be your son?”

He could be lying, the logical part of your brain insists. This could be a ploy to get you to open the door, don't open the door! But your hands are moving on their own, shakey as they may be. The first lock twists unlocked with ease, the second takes a fair bit more of your fine motor function, and by the time your shaking hands reach up to unhook the chain on the door, you're struggling to see through unshed tears. You attempt once, twice, three fucking times to get your hands to cooperate and unlatch the damn chain.

Fuck it.

You open the door, yanking it inwards, towards yourself as hard as you can. It should probably unnerve you that the flimsy chain breaks at the first sign of real resistance, but that's not what's important right now.

What's important is the boy standing before you- your boy. Your Jason.

He looks as surprised as you feel, his eyes flitting between the broken chain, and you.

For a long moment the only thing you can do is look at him, reacquaint yourself with the sight of him. Of course, you know that he did not stay frozen in time, the way your memory of him is. It's been many years since you've held that babbling toddler. But knowing and seeing are two different things.

He's small for his age, is your first thought. Your own fault, you're certain. Between a premature delivery and your own malnourishment during that first trimester, it's a miracle he'd survived in the first place. Small, but well fed. His cheeks are full and flushed. Despite his size, he seems healthy. Good. That means Will's been feeding him. Hopefully, it means they got the hell out of The Alley, into a nicer neighborhood.

His hair isn't as curly as you'd pictured it- too short in most places to hold a curl, save for his bangs, which seem to almost form the shape of a heart over his forehead.

“Jason?” You can barely manage to say his name through the lump in your throat. You find yourself suddenly struggling to focus your gaze on him, the haze of tears welling up in your eyes makes it difficult to see. You try to blink them away but instead they roll down your cheeks.

God, when's the last time you cried?

You reach out to him, cupping one of his cheeks in the palm of your shaking hand. He leans into the affectionate touch, and you're reminded of puppies, overeager and seeking love at every opportunity.

“Mom,” he says back to you, his tone just as reverent as your own. “Mom,” he says again, voice crackling. And then, in unison, the both of you have pulled each other into a crushing hug. You can't tell if the sound you make is a sob or a laugh. You hold onto Jason like he'll vanish into the ether if you loosen your hold for even a second, one hand clutching at the back of his sweatshirt, the other at the back of his head, petting his hair as he buries his face in your neck.

Finally, at long last, your heart is home.

SO. What do we think folks. Are you hooked? I hope youre hooked. Please be hooked. I wanna talk to people about this fic so damn bad. Please send anons or dms or literally anything. When the chapter is complete I'll be putting it up here as well as on my ao3, which I'll link to! Thanks so much for reading and i hope yall are enjoying yourselves so far! Send me an anon or a dm if you'd like to be included on the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @leirobles

[biibini]

Heyy!! I really love your modern!mizu work sm 😭😭🫶 I was wondering if you could please write how modern Mizu would act when her and reader have an argument? Tysm if u do!!

modern!mizu in arguments

tags: modern!mizu is rlly sweet but ngl u spooked her a sec , tw: midterms , college au , reader is lowk mean & crazy from all the stress , resolved in the end ♥︎

a/n: just bc i want to be levi’s wife doesnt mean i’m leaving mizu just yet <3 my past few quarters have been beating my ass (im finally surviving)

modern!mizu would be the type of person to get anxious if something goes wrong at the beginning of ur relationship

and let her fight or flight kick in

bc she let her guard down the first time around (thanks m*k*o)

tbh i wouldnt rlly imagine yall getting into a fight

but i feel if a fight did happen, it would most likely stem from misunderstanding and misinterpretations of what u guys say

for example, a small argument at the beginning spooked her due to her previous relationship having little to no communication

before the first argument, u had just gotten home from a long school day filled with lectures, annoying group mates, and a senseless amount of studying

midterm season was approaching

things were a lil tense

u had hoped to destress and maybe cuddle with ur gf instead of being crammed into a dorm with two other girls with their crazy studying schedules

only to find her busy with her work

“I’m home!”, you yell into the hallway. The rain had just started pouring and you were sopping wet. Thank goodness your laptop was safe, but the rest of your clothes weren’t.

“Anyone home? Hello?”

Frustratedly, you jangle the keys out of the door. They sure wanted to be stubborn with you today after ALL the things you witnessed today.

An early lecture class that you were half awake at. A failed attempt at working with your group mates for your communications class, with Akemi being the only person that actually showed up. Your teacher becoming the strictest they’ve ever been. It wasn’t your fault that he’s going a divorce, but it sure feels like it.

And after all that came your awaited time to study. Only to find your favorite places filled to the brim with students who giggled and gossiped in their corners, making the noises grow larger and larger. God, freshman are the worst.

You were on the verge of insanity.

The sudden change in weather nearly pushed you to your edge.

Arriving at the apartment sopping wet, you were relieved to finally take off your wet shoes by the door, hoping to finally unwind and let go of the annoyance of the day.

With no answer to your call, you assumed it was an empty apartment and huffed, attempting to let go of all the stresses from the day. You hung your bag, letting it dry from the pouring rain. Little did you know how fucked you would be when you opened the bag to find your lecture notes, damp from the rain.

Sent over the edge, you throw your notebook onto the kitchen counter in an attempt to dry the papers. You were so screwed if they weren’t dry by the midterm this week.

You cursed as you dig up the rest of the contents in your bag, only to find them damp and wet from the rain. The only thing that truly stayed dry was your laptop due to its case.

“God, fucking damnit.”, you swore to yourself, continuing to lay out all the contents.

First, your things needed to dry NOW. Without those notes, you would be going into that midterm blind.

Now, it was you next.

You stormed into Mizu’s bedroom, fueled with rage and annoyance from everything today. It all felt like it was crashing down with every step you took. The tiredness, the annoyance, the wetness, the heavy weight of your drenched clothes. You couldn’t wait to take off everything and be dry & clean.

The door swings open right in front of you, hitting you face first. You step back to find Mizu with headphones on, wide-eyed, realizing what she just did. In the brief silence, you could hear the faint noise of the drums and bass being blasted into her headphones.

That was your final straw.

“Oh shit, sorry Y/N, I didn’t know you were home-”

“You couldn’t hear me lose my shit just now?”, you snapped. “Really now?”

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

At this point, you were too tired to care.

“What’s going on is that I’m wet, I’m fucked for my midterm tomorrow, and I just- I just need to go take this shit off.”, you huff, pushing past Mizu.

Before you can even move past her, Mizu grabs your forearm, pulling you back from your momentum.

"Hey.", Mizu said in a sincere tone while squeezing your arm, hoping to meet your gaze.

"What.", you snapped at her.

"I'm not the only person who's busy here.", she retorted.

You looked back to spot her eyes, dead and exhausted, forming dark spots under her eyes. You could tell how worn out she was, staring at formulas and mismanaged group projects all day. Her dull hair was in a disheveled bun, barely hanging onto the butterfly clip you had bought her a few weeks ago.

"Look, I've been working on these midterm projects all day too. My project group mates barely did their shit and our capstone check-in is coming in so soon… I need to catch up now and—“

“Could you at least be aware of your surroundings when you do work on your projects?”, you scoff as you past her and grab a towel and a hair dryer.

You walk back to your damp belongings, hoping you make it in time to minimize the damage. What you didn’t expect was your girlfriend also following your footsteps.

“Y/N, please…”

You wipe your chargers and pencil cases dry. You’re glad they’re safe and secure. As for your notes, you fear that’s a different story.

“Honey…”

You heard her but to be frank, your priorities was your drenched notebook, currently sopping up all the rainwater. You plug in the hairdryer and immediately get to work, hoping it’ll be enough to save you for the midterm coming next week. Some of the ink starts to bleed. You can only hope for readability as the pages on the notebook start to lighten.

“Y/N.”, she calls out.

You turn up the heat settings of the hairdryer as you continue to point the air on the important notes. It becomes more readable.

“Y/N!”

“WHAT.”, you snap back.

You look back in annoyance and see Mizu behind you with a house fan in her hands, eyes widen. You fear your response was a little too loud as you spot the power cord tremble in her hands.

Oh Mizu…

“Um, I’ll just put the fan here.“, Mizu states, whipping around in hopes of plugging in the fan quickly.

“Mizu, wait, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, it’s okay.”, she cuts you off. “I’ll just… um… I’ll just—”

You can hear the stammer in her voice. You reach for her arm before she can hide away. It’s cool to the touch, almost cold.

“Mizu, I—”

She turns around to look at you. Her eyes used to look tired but now they’re so shaken. God, you forgot how much words hurt.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at your earlier and now. I was so absorbed and stressed with midterms and the rain and everything about today. I’m so sorry, I should not have exploded like that in front of your face, especially since you have midterms as well. Mizu, I’m just so—”

���Overwhelmed?”

You sigh, “Very.”

A small smile grows on Mizu’s face. You let go of her forearm and smile back.

“Me too honey. Me too.”, she sighs in relief. “C’mere.”

Her left arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to her side. Were you a little damp? Yeah. Did she care at this moment? Not a chance.

“After we get these notes all nice and dry, do you want to take a nice, warm bath and you’ll talk about your day and I’ll talk about mine…”

Your face warms up as her hand starts to slowly feel up and down your side. Her touch felt so warm and welcoming.

“Mmhm”, you hum in agreement.

Her mouth slowly inched towards your ear, her breath dancing over your lobes.

“and maybe, afterwards, some de-stressing?”, she hints, breathily. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”, you tease.

Besides, Ringo wouldn’t be back until next week.

Mizu places a kiss on your cheek. She plugs the fan, double checking to make sure it is aiming at your notebook, as well as your bag.

“Thank you for your helping, Mizu.”, you say as you kiss her on the cheek.

“No worries.”, Mizu says as she grins, pulling you to her again to steal another kiss. “We’re both stressed, we need breaks every once in a while.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t count that last part as a break—”, you jokingly question.

“It’s a maybe… just putting the thought out there.”, Mizu defends, putting her hands up.

After your notebooks are dry, you notice that most of your notes are fine. Thankfully, you remembered Akemi was in the class and were able to get her digital notes from her iPad.

As shitty as your day first started, it couldn’t come close to the end of your day. You got your hot bath and rant, as promised. And maybe that last step too.

[friendsoup]

HEYYY I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE MEDI IM SOBBING AAAA- could you write something with medi getting hurt in some way, and reader patches them up? :>

Boo-Boos

Recipe: Not strictly romantic, Medi is implied to have romantic feelings for reader, Reader's feelings are up to you, Medi x Reader, GN! Reader, APPle and Regulus ship it, Clumsy! Reader, Oblivious! Reader, Medi is a tsundere. Sorry.

WC: 1,351

Chef's Note: SOOOO.... I may have read this prompt wrong the first time.... So you get the best of both worlds! Medi patches up reader, and then reader patches up Medi! I hope you enjoy!

You always manage to get in the worst situations. Perhaps it was because you’re naturally clumsy. Or maybe it was just due to dumb luck. Whatever the case, tragedy always seemed to befall you. Whether it be knocks to the head, tripping over nothing, or scars you had no clue the origins of. Today was no different. You were on patrol, fighting critters for the timekeeper, when your legs got twisted with each other, and you fell. You were lucky that your teammates covered your slack, though you’d managed to get quite the hefty scrape on your chin. Not that it bothered you, though. You’d suffered greater scrapes and bumps in your time, and were convinced you’d be fine on your own. Regulus was the one to change your mind on that. “You’ll be no use to us if your wounds are all infected!” She argued, as the two of you walked back to the suitcase. “You should go see Medicine Pocket! They’re a doctor!” “I’m sure just a few bandaids will cover me.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck. “Does it really look that bad?” “You’re bleeding!” Regulus exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “If you get sick, then your chores will fall onto my shoulders!” You laughed at that. Though she was right. Getting sick was a good way to throw off the entire balance of the team, and you didn’t want to be a burden to the timekeeper.a

“Besides, if you go see Medi, you might get some special treatment.” She elbowed you in the side, the action only shooting more pain up your ribs. “What do you mean by that?” You asked, your eyebrows drawing up in genuine confusion. 

Regulus just stood there for a moment, stunned that you didn’t understand her words. 

“What the Captain is meaning to say, is that Dr.Medicine Pocket is awfully fond of you.” APPle pipes up, floating behind the two of you. “Perhaps, if you are to visit their room, they can provide you with a better experience than our other healers can.”

“Medi is fond of me?” You ask, blinking. “No way! They’re always so mean…” That simply earns a groan out of Regulus, who shakes her head. “God, you’re just like Vertin! I can’t stand it sometimes!” “You should visit Dr.Medicine Pocket anyways, and confirm for yourself.” APPle encourages. You nod. If even the reasonable APPle agrees, then perhaps there’s some merit in what Regulus is saying.

And so, you make your way through the suitcase, down to Medicine Pocket’s laboratory. It’s quite easy to find, following the sounds of dog’s barking and the sterile smell of medical equipment. It’s a path you’ve walked before, many times. “Medi, are you here?” You call from the doorway. Instinctively, you rub at your chin, cringing when you glance back at your hand. That’s a lot of blood. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in the middle of something. Can you come back-” They dismissively wave to you, before looking up from their work. “Holy fuck!” “Haha! Hi!” You smile and wave. “[Y/N]. What the fuck did you do?” They hiss, standing from their seat and making their way over to you. They grab you by the shoulders, pulling you into their room, before pushing you down on the examining table. “I tripped!” You explain. “Down a fucking cliff? You look like shit!” Medi shakes their head, digging through their supplies. They return with a handful of cotton balls, alcohol wipes, and bandages. “Just on some pavement. I did slide a bit though, which is probably why I look so rough.” You admit, glancing somewhere else. Anywhere but Medi’s disappointed look.

“Fucking dumbass.” They sigh, pulling on new gloves, before picking up a cotton ball with tweezers. “You’ve got to be careful.” They bend to your height. Muttering a quiet,”Lift your chin now.” Their breath hot on your cheek. You obey, feeling a bit flustered with how close they are to you. Gently, they dab the cotton on your wound, soaking in the blood and wiping it away. It feels weird against your skin, both soft and cold. The intensity of Medi’s gaze makes your heart speed up, which you pray they can’t notice.

“I try!” You protest, squirming slightly in your seat. “It’s just difficult. Y’know? These things happen without me trying!” Medi grumbles something inaudible before responding. “It doesn’t seem like you’re trying, when you come into my office nearly every day with a new injury. I have important work to do, y’know? I can’t spend all my time with you.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, feeling a great sense of guilt fill you. Medi grumbles something else, before wiping down your wound and sticking a bandage on it. With that done, they get up and begin working on something else, completely leaving you alone.

…

A month has passed, and the two of you haven’t spoken a great deal since your accident. You’ve been managing to handle yourself, and Medi has been too busy with work to come out of their shell. However, the two of you are now on patrol, preparing the last things for the Storm.

Medi walks ahead while you trail behind, your mind wandering in the other direction. Neither of you say a word, you haven’t since you left the suitcase. You don’t particularly mind though, the silent walk is nice. Medi stops suddenly in their tracks, their eyes focusing on something else. You, who’s attention is far away from what’s in front of you, don’t notice, continuing to walk forward. You bump into Medi, and they trip while trying to steady themselves, falling on their knees. “Ow! Shit!” They hiss, scrambling to a sit. You jump back, trying to comprehend what just happened. “Ah! Medi!” You exclaim, dropping to a kneel besides them. “Fuck, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” “I’m fine, asshole.” They cradle their knee, wiping a bit of blood from their scrape. “I have bandages in my lab. I’ll fix it myself-” “I can help!” You argue, digging through your pockets. Out come a crumpled bandaid, and a package containing an alcohol wipe. “Here- I have these! Let me help!” Medi blinks. “Since when did you start caring about first aid?” They ask tilting their head. “Well, last time I showed up at your office, you seemed a bit mad! So I learned how to clean and bandage my own scrapes, so I wouldn’t bother you again!” You respond, giving a smile. “Now, roll up your pant leg, I’ll clean the wound.” Medi obeys, though they seem lost in thought. “Oh.” Their voice is a bit forlorn, as they glance away from you. You fiddle with the packaging of the alcohol wipe, completely oblivious to their expression. “You know I don’t mind you stopping by every once in a while.” “What was that?” You ask, pressing the wipe to the scrape. Medi nearly jumps out of their skin. “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it! God damn it, that stings! And here I am, trying to have a moment with you! Fuck!” “Uh. Sorry.” You mutter, removing the wipe from their skin. “I’ll just put the bandage on now.” Guilt fills your chest. You didn’t mean to make them worse. 

“No, I…” Medi sighs. “Thank you for your help. You saved me some supplies.” They rub the back of their neck, struggling to focus their eyes on you.

The smile returns to your lips. “Oh! I forgot to do one last thing!” You exclaim, after smoothing the bandage out on their skin. You press a quick kiss to the top of the bandaid. “All better!” Medi jumps again, this time to their feet. Their face is tomato red, their eyes frantically looking back and forth. “I-I think we should call it here!” They exclaim, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ve got lots to work on, y’know? And Vertin is only going to sponsor me so long without any progress!” They turn around, and begin to run off, leaving you sitting there. Confused. What did you do this time?

[elvisabutler]

you know how kids are supposed to be good judges of character? i was wondering if you could do elvis x reader where their kids don't like mommy and daddy's manager?

children 'n dogs

summary: your children with elvis never have been a big fan of the colonel and neither have you even if elvis is. but as you and elvis like to say: "children 'n dogs, best judges of character." fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) | austin butler rating: t pairing: elvis presley x female reader ( or austin elvis x female reader ) word count: 1854 warnings: talk of children being absolute menaces. a married couple being very much a married couple. pregnancy. the colonel being the colonel. brief mentions of period typical and culturally typical opinions on child rearing re: discipline and spanking. calling elvis a backwater hick. brief brief mention of vomit. i think that should be everything. author’s��note: so hi anon thank you for this prompt, this was actually a really sweet one and i kind of fell in love with it but wasn't too sure how to start it- plus the fun tired exhaustion i've been dealing with. i set this as a sort of continuation of my queen of graceland fic ( that i wrote for specifically austin elvis ), you don't have to read that one, just know it basically has elvis and the reader getting together right before he gets shipped off to germany, and they have a set of twin girls right about that time and i implied they were going to have plenty more kids after those two. read this with austin elvis or elvis in mind, i am not picky, since i left it faintly nebulous.

"Whaddya mean Jess spit on 'im? Damn boy is 6 years old, he knows better." Elvis asks as you start to take down your hair for the night, wincing at one of the pins digging deeper into your hair. "Christ, mama, let me get those ones in the back, ya know ya can't get at 'em."

You roll your eyes but remove your hands only to have your husband's warm hands replace them, finding the pins in your hair with an ease you envy. "I meant exactly what I said, sweetheart. Jesse spit on the Colonel in the five minutes I looked away while tryin' to make sure Loretta and Elizabeth were all ready to go. They all know I'm not movin' all that fast right now." Your hand moves to rub at your bump, an act that has Elvis letting out a heavy sigh above your head, one of his own hands following downward and pressing against it, earning a powerful kick.

"That's what I get for putting another set of 'em in ya, isn't it? My Queen of Graceland too big to be chasin' after my lil' hellion of a boy." He moves his hand off of your stomach, only to watch another kick happen with a chuckle as he busies himself with your hair. "Colonel seemed madder than just a lil spit. Gettin' the feelin' there's more."

There is a moment when you contemplate not telling him the rest, not telling him how your oldest daughters had lost their tempers once you got them over to where their siblings were and how the other two boys promptly followed their older brother and hit the Colonel and how your youngest daughter, your sweet 18 month old daughter had thrown up on the Colonel's shoes. You contemplate all of this only to look up at your husband and realize he's waiting, mid trying to take out a pin. "Everyone might have- well- everyone might have had their own things they wanted to do t'him."

Now you're no stranger to trying to smooth over things your children have done to Elvis, no stranger to making it seem as if your children are far more innocent than they actually are. But in being married to you and in knowing your children together from the day they were born he knows when you're doing it. He knows exactly when you're trying to gloss over things and make them look presentable. He leans down and places a kiss to the top of your forehead. "Darlin'. I ain't gonna be mad at 'em. Or maybe jus' a lil, but ya gotta tell me what they did so I can apologize."

You hum and purse your lips as you move to grab a brush to brush out your hair. "Oh, I don't think any of 'em want you to apologize for what they did. They know very well what they did was wrong." A pause and you shake your head. "Loretta and Elizabeth kicked him in the shin and stepped on his foot. While tellin' him to stop bein' angry at Jesse for spittin' and Anthony and Aaron for tryin' to bite and hit 'im."

The two warring emotions that filter across Elvis's face show just how much of a child he can be even as he's a parent to six kids- eight if he counted the ones inside you. He wants to laugh at the sheer chaos the scene brings to mind but at the same time he knows that he should frown upon everything, that you expect him to be able to discipline them a little but at the same time he looks in your eyes and doesn't see a hint of anger. At the children or him. He raises an eyebrow. "And the vomit on the shoe?"

"Rebecca's lunch." The most simple answer as he pulls out the final pins that you couldn't properly see to pull out. "That one i wasn't expectin' in the slightest. Don't know if it was her tryin' to follow her sibling's leads or jus' an upset stomach. But- she hasn't done it since then."

Meaning it likely was her trying to get in on the action. Elvis sighs, sitting on the chest at the bottom of the bed. "Goddamn, darlin'- Our kids did all o' that to him? Our well behaved kids? The ones who know their manners 'n-"

You hold up a hand waving it for him as a signal to stop talking. "Our kids who know their manners 'cause they know I'd have their hides if they didn't. Yes, those kids. Those kids also hate the Colonel 'bout as much as I do-"

It's Elvis's turn to cut you off, standing up only to kneel down in front of you, taking the brush out of your hands so that he can hold them in his own. So he can envelop them in his own and make you focus on his face as he talks. "I know- I know the two of ya haven't ever gotten along but he's why we have all o'this. Wouldn't have gotten so big and wouldn't be in these pictures if it wasn't for 'im."

There is a part of you, a tiny part that will admit he's right, that the Colonel is the reason he's as famous as he is and why he's able to keep up with paying for your ever growing family but at the same time the man hasn't ever truly liked you and he especially likes you less and less the more kids you bring into the world. "Elvis, if he had his way you wouldn't have me or our kids." You whisper, pulling up your hands in an effort to get him to pull up his own so that you can place a small kiss to them. "He never has liked any of us. Got mad when I was pregnant with Loretta and Elizabeth but liked how he could spin it. Same wit' Jesse. But our other three? And these ones? If he could leave us out in a ditch somewhere, I honestly think he would. He- This doesn't give you the all American, Hollywood star look, it makes you look like a backwater hick."

"A backwater hick." He repeats back slowly, knowing fully well it wasn't you saying that. Oh he'd expect that from your mama, but not you. Which had to have meant that was the Colonel's words, not your own. "He tell ya that? He tell my goddamn wife that?

When you had first gotten married you might have looked away due to how Elvis's voice deepens in pitch, a sure sign of how angry he is simmering under the surface. Nowadays? Now it just makes you shake your head for a moment before nodding. "He has- which might be why your children kinda like a dog know when someone is-"

"Not a good person? Has a bad character?" He finishes for you before muttering under his breath. "Children 'n dogs."

The puff of air that leaves your nose betrays just how aggravated you're getting to be with the entire conversation as does the rolling movement of your twins. "They've done this for years, Elvis, it's jus' today that they've all done it at once. We deal wit' it for ya. I know you won't leave 'im so I handle it."

His eyes drift down to your stomach where he sees his children move a bit angrily and he frowns realizing that you've been stuck dealing with this alone while he sung the Colonel's praises all this time. He had to admit that as of late he was feeling a bit dissatisfied with the man and was beginning to wonder if maybe it was time for a change. A change that would make everyone happy. He pulls his hands away from yours and allows you to start to brush your hair again while he moves to touch and rub your stomach in an effort to calm the children. It works quicker than he'd have thought was possible judging by the way you lean back in the chair a little and sigh. Placing a kiss to your stomach he stands up. "I'll talk to 'im tomorrow, a'right? 'Bout a lot of things. Now come on, lets get your hair all brushed and my teeth all brushed and get ya into bed 'fore these lil ones wake back up and make a fuss."

You tilt your head up for a kiss before you nod. "Don't need to tell me twice. Go on, I got my hair sweetheart." You pause. "I love you. And I am sorry about what they did."

"Don't be, they're- our kids, mama. If they weren't like this- I'd be worried." He kisses you one more time before he pulls away to go to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Love ya too."

Elvis manages to finish brushing his teeth before you finish with your hair and murmurs something about checking on the kids. It's a quick walk to the bedrooms and when he opens the door he's bombarded by a flurry of hugs and overlapping voices.

"We know we shouldn't have but he's so mean to mama!"

"He was yelling at Jesse and Anthony and Aaron, you'd've been mad too daddy!"

"He spit on me first!"

"He what?" The last words uttered by Jesse are what finally have Elvis putting up his hands and telling everyone to be quiet. "Didya jus' say he spit on ya?"

Jesse looks away when he answers, knowing that he technically is lying but he knows Mr. Parker would have. He just knows. "He didn't but- Daddy we jus'. He's mean. He's never mean when you're here but he's mean."

Elvis frowns and pulls his children in for a group hug, noting how they try and burrow into him as best as they can almost as if they want his forgiveness and protection all in one. When he pulls away he places a kiss to each of their foreheads. "I- I'm hearin' all 'bout this tonight. Listen. You all go on 'n get into bed. Daddy's gonna deal wit' some things tomorrow. Some things wit' Colonel Parker. Don't you worry 'bout it."

The grins so much like his own crossing all of their faces make his heart so full of love he almost feels like crying before he shakes his head. Lights out once I leave. And be nice to your mama tomorrow mornin' ya know your siblings are a lil rough on her right now."

A chorus of "yes daddy" leaves everyone's lips in whatever way they can manage it before he shuts the door and moves back to your shared bedroom. You're already on the bed by the time he comes back, curled up with a pillow fast asleep as he slides in next to you and nuzzles at your neck. "Ya gotta tell me 'bout these sorta things, darlin'. Can't protect ya if ya don't. But I'll deal wit' it tomorrow mornin'. Have some words wit' 'im. Love all of ya too much to not."

taglist: @ab4eva, @eliseinmemphis, @powerofelvis, @headfullofpresley, @precious-little-scoundrel, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, one day i'm gonna keep track of who would want to be tagged with what. today is not that day.

[abiiors]

A FIC ABOUT TAKING CARE OF ROSS OH PLEASEEEE GIVE ME THE HURT/COMFORT AWHILE BACK I REQUESTED ABOUT COMFORTING /HIM/ INSTEAD OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND (and you wrote it and it was amazing) ITS MY FAVORITE TROPE

SORRY FOR YELLING IM JUST EXCITED!

it's quite short but it's sweet <3

you watch ross with a frown on your face. which is not how it usually goes—usually, you watch him absolutely enamoured or with a huge grin on your face. or sometimes, when you’re busy belting out the lyrics and shredding an air-guitar, you don’t even watch him at all. but today, (rather, in the last few days) the frown has been making a more and more frequent appearance. 

you know he’s been in pain and you know how much he keeps minimising it with frequent reassurances of “i’m fine,” and “you're worried over nothing.” and sure maybe you are, but you don’t like the way he keeps shaking his hand and scruntching his face in pain after every song. especially now that they’re done with most of the set with only two more songs left. 

so you sit backstage, restlessly tapping your foot and waiting for him to come back. 

fifteen more minutes, and you hear the tell-tale sounds the cheers and whoops and laughter—matty’s giggle the loudest among them all but ross is laughing along too. 

he looks perfectly fine when he comes into view. exactly like he does every day except for the hint of a blue tap peeking out from under his sleeve. well this is new—you didn’t know he had to put it on. 

“did you enjoy it love?” he asks, placing a kiss on your head and immediately makes his way to his bag. 

you mumble a non-commital yes and watch him dig through it until he finds the familiar pack of ibuprofen and looks around in search of some water. 

“ross…” you sigh, holding out a bottle of water which he takes gratefully and swallows down two pills. 

he’s oblivious to you watching him—from the way he can’t open the cap of the bottle on the first try to how he constantly flexes and unflexes his hand, almost subconsciously at this point while he jokes around with polly about something. 

so when you get a minute with him alone, you pull him aside. 

“you’re hiding it from me.” your tone is slightly accusatory which makes him frown in confusion. 

“hiding? babe, what…”

“your arm. you’re hiding the fact that it hurts to play!” you poke his arm lightly, just a graze of your finger against his wrist but ross looks away guiltily.

“i am not hiding!” he grumbles but his shoulders slump a little as he gazes at the ground. the guilt in his eyes is evident, but he's not ready to admit it fully just yet. "i just don't want you to worry, that's all. it's no big deal, honestly."

you can't help but roll your eyes at his stubbornness. "ross, you're in pain. you're wincing and fidgeting on stage. it's obvious to me, and i'm sure it's noticeable to the fans too. you’ve got a tape wrapped around it. do you honestly expect me to believe it’s because you’re “not in pain”?”

he lets out another sigh, rubbing his temple as if trying to chase away a growing headache. "i know, love. but i’m handling it, okay? i can’t exactly take a break though, can i?”

that softens you a bit—enough that you step forward and cradle his face between your hands. “i know it’s a lot at the moment… but can you let me take care of you at least? icing it can help, right?”

he nods and you make a mental note to google all the ways to lessen his pain because yes, unfortunately taking a break is not an option. 

so till then, it’s ice packs, and tapes and ibuprofen. 

“something warm helps too,” he volunteers, cheekily pulling you closer. “a bath when we get back to the hotel?”

you roll your eyes at him again, trying and failing to suppress your smile. “anything else, babe? a sexy nurse costume to go with your treatment?”

“i mean if you’re offering–ow!” he laughs at your attempts to smack his chest. 

despite the pain, you’re glad to see him back in high spirits again and finally willing to accept being taken care of. it’s not ideal—the injury, the schedule. anything really. but at least now you can properly devise a plan. 

[mustread-fics]

HELLO ALL!

As a kid, I got into a lot of shows/movies/celebrities and out of the large horde of cousins I was raised alongside it seemed I was always the one digging deeper to find more of the stories I loved which is how I stumbled upon fanfiction.

Fun fact: first fanfiction I ever read I thought was based on real events that had occurred in that celebrity’s life and I was shocked.

Paperback is a brain baby that I have came up with in hopes that some of the lovely, talented writers on this forum (and hoping AO3) will allow me a few sit down questions as I probe their wonderful brains. Nothing personal or concerning will be asked, I in no way mean to invade anyone’s privacy with this. Everything asked will be regarding inspiration, writing methods, and where the creativity and love for fanfiction comes from. Different questions will be asked for different authors as you are all so terrifically original.

For any avid readers, such as myself, that have ever wished to poke a writer’s juicy brain because they managed to wreck you so beautifully as has been done to me so many times, I welcome you to follow and read their interviews. This is for our enjoyment as much as a minuscule way of mine to grace the writer’s with recognition and gratitude.

My idea is to use my friend Canva in an effort to differentiate an editorial ad for every different writer that will be unique to them/the stories they write. Below I will tag writers who I have read and follow to show my interest in interviewing them. If any writer is not interested in this feel free to ignore me or message me privately and I will make note of it. Again I do not mean to invade anyone’s privacy with this, it’s meant to be fun, engaging, and a means of gratitude.

NOTE TO READERS: Some stories, especially those set in the Masters of the Air universe, will explore sensitive topics such as homosexuality, war themes such as rape, torture, entrapment, death, ptsd. Yandere! themes also included in some. The stories I read I feel have done these topics justice to the best of their abilities and use them to teach and enrich characters, not as story crutches. No hate whatsoever will be tolerated.

Authors tagged below:

@precious-little-scoundrel

@elvisabutler

@ab4eva

@swifty-fox

@avonne-writes

@nerdy-novelist017

@thatbanditqueen

@blainesebastian

@joeyalohadream

@blixabargelds

@crazymadpassionatelove

@hauntingcontradiction

@seresinhangmanjake

@missmaywemeetagain

@prompted-wordsmith

@vveissesfleisch

@buckysegan

@crash-and-cure

@blurredcolour

@softspeirs

@hesbuckcompton-baby

… more to come im sure ☺️

[lix-ables]

ʚ : WHEN THEY TEASE YOU ₊̣

FT. chan, minho, changbin, hyunjin, jisung, felix, seungmin + i.n.

NOTE. helloooo !! yes its been a while since i wrote, but i was reading something and this just came to me i hope you like it. its short i know, but aaa show this some love ‹3 happy reading dovies 🎀💌

MDNI, SMUT INCLUDES – making out, grinding, edging, handjobs, cockwarming, teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, sexting, that's it ig . (words: 1300) ©lix-ables 2022.

B.CHAN … chan sure as hell would be the type to tease you after a long day. if you’re tangled together in bed, his body trapping yours close to him, he lets his fingers dance over the material separating your skin and him. he won’t care if you’re desperate and grinding up against him. you don’t know when or how your clothes came off but the next minute he’s naked waist down, and rolling on top of you, his leg sliding between yours and grinding against your centre.

“mmmm nuh-uh, darlin’” chan murmurs when your fingers reach between your bodies to grab his dick, but he gently swats it away. “you’re always on your knees for me, making me feel good. it’s my turn now yeah?” he lowers his body, his face in front of your stomach, kissing the spot right above where you need him, and he can feel you bunch up the sheets under your fist. “fuck…”

L.MINHO … minho is the type to straight up just tease you when you’re so close to the edge. and picturing this scenario exactly – he has his face buried between your thighs, pussy drunk ofc, his fingers shifting from caressing your skin to digging his nails into it when you wrap your legs around his head. every time you’re so close, his head lifts up, fingers still caressing you, and by the time he’s done with you, you’re sore, edged and frustrated with his actions because he promised you that he’d let you come around his fingers. “one more, baby. this is the last one, yeah?” he promises as he goes down on you again, your fingers gripping the sheets under you because you’re that sensitive, while minho praises you, “shit, you’re so tight. that’s it, baby, let go.”

S.CHANGBIN … changbin loves to rest his head just on your tits, his fingers either stroking your sides or reaching to grab one of your breasts in his hand, his face turning to the side so he can leave kisses over your shirt material just to hear you sigh. when your fingers find his hair, tugging on his strands and pulling him closer, he takes this as an opportunity to slide his fingers inside your shirt, lifting himself so he’s not crushing you. his lips are pressed against your skin, fingers moving upward to lift up your shirt and expose your chest to him. “so pretty …” he starts, his lips press open mouth kisses to each of your tits, before starting to suck on the now sensitive buds. “n-need more, binnie–” “you need to wait baby, im not done with your tits, hm?”

H.HYUNJIN … not the kind to tease you often because this boy is all about pleasure, but when he’s in the mood, he’s fully in. be in his car, or his apartment, or even if you’re out with him at a party and you’re surrounded by people. you can expect his hands to be all over you, little touches here and there, tugging on your hair when you look away from him for just a little while – he loves it. he especially loves it when you’re glaring at him from across the room and he sends you a text like:

H.JISUNG … like hyunjin, if jisung had the chance, he WOULD tease you, not caring where you are. this means he would DEFINITELY take you up to his room with his roommates just outside, and just tease you. so much. even if you tell him that there are people who might hear you, and he just doesn't care. what he cares about is you, coming for him, moaning out his name and sighing you’re reaching your high. the fact that you’re grinding your hips against his hand, begging him to let you come, because you’re that desperate? makes him hard. instantly. for sure would be inside you if he could, but all he wants is you clawing at his back, pushed up close to him as he thrusts into you.

L.FELIX … oh my god, when i tell you that felix LOVES LOVES LOVES it when you initiate things? like if you’re watching a movie that he loves, or you’re just on your phone and you accidentally brush your fingers on his thigh, a slight caress. you bet your life he loves cockwarming with you because it is fun — at least he claims it to be. all because he can move under you, and scold you lightly for tightening around him. his voice is low and husky in your ears, his fingers wrapped around your waist, but also when he reaches to grab his phone or a book he “accidentally” thrusts into you, and you whine. he doesn't care, just minding his own business until a text comes from him:

K.SEUNGMIN … i know for a fact that this boy would LOVE teasing you so much to the point that its so amusing to him? picture this – he’s sitting next to you, your fingers find his dick and you’re stroking him, trying to get a moan, a whimper, a grunt, SOMETHING out of him, but he just sighs. like he’s bored or fidgety. the moment his fingers find your neck though, grabbing you to pull you closer, your action fastens. seungmin leans in to bury his face in your neck, his lips touching your skin and you feel the heat radiating. “thought it was my turn now,” he mumbles, and you’re pretty sure his kisses are going to leave a mark on your skin. “fuck, just like that,” is the first thing he says when you squeeze his length a little while you’re stroking him, and you’re so focused on him that you dont realise his fingers trailing down to your thighs, so dangerously close to your centre, until he pushes your panties to the side, and slides his fingers into your pussy. your thighs wrap around his hands and you pull away, making him hover over you a little, his free hand now holding you down almost as he pushes his fingers to be buried inside you. “told you it was my turn,” he mumbles, his thumb now teasing your clit in slow motions. “lemme take care of you, and you’re going to take whatever i give you. yes?”

Y.JEONGIN … cockwarming with jeongin is the only thing that makes me lose my shit because when i tell you, he is so fucking cheeky and amused by it that he lOVES teasing you so so much, just to get back at you. that's because once before, on the ride home, you almost made him cum in his pants – your palm rubbing over his already-forming boner, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, tightly, to stop you because he wants to focus on driving. “please innie, i just want to help,” you mumble, a pout forming on your lips and he glances at you. “would you rather i nut in my pants or in you baby?”

“both?”

“fuck, you’re going to be the end of me,” he mumbles because now you know he’s given up. but also, you knew he would get back at you, and today was that day. “baby, stop moving or i swear im going to lose it,” he mumbles, but his fingers say otherwise. his hand moves in front of you, spreading your legs wider for him, and already working his way to your clit. “w-what are you doing,” you turn your head to face him, causing him to grunt, because now your walls are clenching around his dick and all he can think about is fucking you. “turn around once again, and im fucking you right here, right now. stay still while i play with you.”

🎮 . taglist . @mnwrld @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @comet-falls @niijo @chvnnie @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @hwan-g @idek-at-thispoint @es-kay-zee @writerracha @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa @zoiescastle @compersian @jilixcuddles @teaspeungmin @eulaenthusiast @chriscentric @iadorethemskz @abcdefgiwsmcty @l3visbby @yukichan67 @hoshologies @zee17

[stuffyflowers]

Ok payback for last one I'm gonna pay you to yap now

Sans/Toriel, Ceroba/Alphys, Starlo/Dalv (Because I'm evil)

Oh, and Sona/Ceroba. I'll give you some respite after throwing in the one I know you hate :3c

Finally back from touching sand and playing with friends I can answer these

Sans and toriel is like staroba to me I honestly don’t care if it’s romantic or not I just think they’re so important to each other regardless of how you personally see em. So makes sense n compels me. Don’t have much more to say honestly no notes. um shoutout to that moment in the pacifist ending where sans steals her phone and pretends to be her im thinkin abt it again,, they’re so cute guys ]: )

Ceroba and alphys is the definition of makes no damn sense but compels me. Like the chances of either of them voluntarily being in the same room as each other for any amount of time is sooo unlikely but ‘women who project their self loathing onto each other bc they recognise their own faults and mistakes in them’ is my favourite ship dynamic right now it’s so good. Obviously alphyne and cerobas friendship with starlo is the healthiest outcome for each of them in their respective pacifist endings but what if they just made each other worse forever and ever actually 💖 Be each others outlet for their own guilt, drag each other further down into a self destructive pit, forever believing they are rotten to the core and no one could ever forgive or understand them… um!

🌽 yaoi booooooo 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅boooooooo🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅utdr fans we need to set higher yaoi standards there’s so much we could be cooking here but the one we’re latching onto is ‘guys who spoke to each other exactly once and have absolutely nothing interesting going on’ yaoi bc haha funny name + only (shippable) men in the main uty cast let’s be real here. Random thing that makes me lol when I think abt it is they’re literally standing as far away from each other as possible at all times in the one scene they’re actually in together like bros…….. there is nothing here. Sorry + no sense + not compelling + go ship starlo/el bailador or something instead im begging

Sonaroba obviously very similar boat to alphys and ceroba. My beloved trio of women who make mistakes that hurt people while trying to help/protect them. Sonaroba is even more interesting to me bc sona is essentially a worse-case-scenario ceroba: she never had that community to pull her out of her spiralling and grow as a person, she controls almost everyone. Staying this stagnant for as long as she has also means she’s even more stubborn than ceroba, too: ceroba is able to see the error in her thinking as soon as martlet is actually given the chance to reason with her, meanwhile sona in the imperfect endings doubles down on her initial perception of the monsters even when she acknowledges beforehand that she was wrong. She just can’t accept it. There’s so much to dig into 4 kcy. How would sona react to finding out what ceroba did, and how similar it is to her situation? Is there a mutual understanding that forms between them after they come clean to each other or does ceroba just become sonas scapegoat, “See? Monsters can’t be trusted! They will lie to and deceive you just to get what they want!” Would ceroba try to save her after the truth comes out by reasoning with her, even in the imperfect ending where she turns all of her friends into humans against their will?? What’s the limit for how far she’s willing to go to save a fucked up reflection of herself? Augh. Anyway. It’s a “kind of makes sense in the context of kissy cutie where the entire plot revolves around getting monsters to date frisks shitty racist aunt but probably not in any other context + COMPELS ME‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️”

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 9

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Chapter Warnings: Alcohol Consumption | Language take a shot whenever you see the f word smh Word Count: 8.3k Author Notes: So...Im sorry 😬? But aye, what's a story without a beach chapter, am I right?? I can't believe how close we are to the finish line. I think we have 3 chapters left ??? give or take. wooow will I actually finish a story for the first time in my life?? (like a real one not just a lil scenario haha). Sorry for the late update, I was gonna post on yeols bday but thought this wasnt a great present lmfaooo As always, dont be shy with letting me know your thoughts on the chapter, a def will need to know how you all feel at the end of this one 😮‍💨. Thank you to everybody still rocking with the story, it means sooo much to me 💕 and give our boy chanyeol some loooove MWAH!!!

It doesn’t take Seulgi and you long to change and head down to the beach. Being able to see the guys from up in your room, you join them quickly.

They got their hands on a grill somehow, and you find Jongdae already cooking on it, beer in one hand.

“Already looking like a dad, Dae,” Seulgi announces in greeting, taking in his unbuttoned green Hawaiian shirt, oversized sunglasses, and fisherman’s hat. He grins brightly and rewards her with a fresh piece of juicy meat.   

Beside Jongdae and the grill sits a long table covered with food, drinks, and a bluetooth speaker currently playing chill R&B. A little further behind him is a blue canopy to block the blazing sun from your sensitive skin, chairs littered underneath it.

This area of the beach is privately owned, for hotel residents only. Despite how large the hotel is, only a few other families dot the shore, all far enough away that your little party is practically secluded.

You drop your bag onto a chair and dig into it, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. You rub it into any skin of yours exposed before walking out of the canopy, holding it up for everyone to see. “Who needs some?”

Sehun and Jongin come running towards you, both only wearing swim trunks. You suck your teeth, their backs are probably already screaming at them.

Jongin gets to you first. You turn him around and begin to apply the protective lotion onto his back, where it will be hard for him to reach.

“We missed you last night,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. For some reason, your throat constricts, dragging your voice down to a deep mumble. “I’m sorry for leaving. I just….”

“I understand,” he says, patting one of your hands. Throwing his head back, he tosses you a sweet grin. You return his smile before handing him the bottle so that he can cover the rest of himself.

With Jongin preoccupied, Sehun makes his way over, already trying to get a read on you. He understands the language of your body enough to fill in blanks you don’t even know are empty.

“Good afternoon,” you greet, keeping your voice neutral. 

“He’s in the water,” is his reply.

“Who?” Damn this man. He’s good.

He scoffs. “Please, you’ve been scanning the area non stop since you’ve arrived. Baekhyun had to drag him out as soon as he got here. He was getting pretty worked up about something. I’m assuming it was the fact you weren’t here.”

“Weird,” is your convincing response. You push his arm, leading him to turn around so that you can attempt to save him from skin cancer.

“Weird, indeed.” Despite not being able to see you, his curious gaze can still be felt. “Makes me wonder what happened after you left the reception.”

“Not something I really want to talk about.” You wince, knowing you’ve slipped up and said too much. The simple sentence bares a lot to unpack, and Sehun loves other people’s dirty laundry.

But, in Sehun fashion, he doesn’t push. It’s one thing you love about him. Instead, he faces you and grabs the sunscreen, silently lotioning the rest of his body. When he’s done he reaches over to you, pulling at the black kimono you had meticulously put on over your swimsuit, to return the favor.

“Sehun!”

He yanks the thin fabric and it falls off your shoulders. You both freeze. He only lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake down the expansion of your exposed skin littered in harsh dark bruises. His gaze lingers for an uncomfortably long time. You want to pull away, but find yourself paralyzed, a mouse caught in the stare of a hungry snake. 

“Stop staring.”

The voice is gruff. A wet hand pulls at your arm, ripping the kimono from Sehun’s frozen hand. You stumble backwards until you hit a chill wetness that makes you hiss as it soaks into your back. Sehun’s eyes are the only thing to move as they shift to the person protectively hovering behind you. His expression is cool, but you catch the way his eyes alight in amusement. Swallowing thickly, you work the courage to see who’s caught his attention….

Chanyeol stops glaring at Sehun long enough to spin you around so that you’re facing each other. With gentle fingers, he fixes your pullover, maneuvering it so that it’s covering your neck, hiding most of the damage. 

He clicks his tongue in dismay. “This won’t do.”

“I have a shirt,” you inform in a small voice. “It doesn’t have a collar though.”

“One second.” Chanyeol walks away, no longer blocking the radiant view of crashing teal waves, powdery sand, and miles of blue sky. White clouds speckle the troposphere, the negative image of your neck and chest. Off to your right, Sehun still stands, a glorious statue made of pale marble.

You can’t bring yourself to acknowledge his presence. 

Chanyeol returns. In his hands is the ugly Hawaiian shirt Jongdae was wearing.

You become aware of the rashguard covering his torso. The collar is high, covering the base of his neck where any hickeys can be hidden, although you can just barely see the start of one peeking out. You curse yourself for not thinking of buying one. 

“May I?” He gently asks. Is that not how he asked to strip you last night? The reminder takes your voice, as does the reserved look in his eyes. He’s testing the water, trying to see where you both stand at the moment. You nod, allowing him access to touch you, lost in his grim expression.

Gently, ever so gently, his fingers brush over your shoulders, sneaking under the thin garment. You battle a shiver as he lifts the back of his hands, knocking the fabric off with his knuckles. You roll back your shoulders, helping him make the cover cascade onto the sand below.

Chanyeol’s bright eyes wander over your flesh. He grunts in satisfaction at the sight of the marks he’s made, pride coloring his features. And you’re transfixed, gulping back saliva flooding your mouth like high tide. Your breathing grows erratic, fingers itching to touch him in return. Apparently that tension hasn’t fully gone away. Looks like you’ll be attracted to him for life.

You want to say something, want to voice an excuse to get your hands on him, but a sharp whistle cuts through the air before you can speak, breaking the spell Chanyeol has you falling under. You blink away your thirst, remembering where you are, of the audience you have.

“Looks like you got into some fun last night!” Jongdae, the culprit of the whistle, points out in a yell. 

You’re now hyper aware of all your friends. Baekhyun, who you’re just now noticing, sits in the shallow part of the water where the waves roughly push him, dressed identically to Chanyeol. He’s looking in your general direction, squinting against the sun to see what all the commotion is about. Seulgi stands beside Jongdae. She’s in the middle of applying sunscreen, one of her legs lifted like a flamingo. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to hear her ‘oh shit’, wobbling as she balances on that one leg. Sehun is still staring right next to you, but the whistle was able to jolt him back from stone. Then there is Jongin, who jogs back to where everyone is congregated to curiously see what is going on.

Being the only one moving, your head spins over to him, seeing how his mouth slacks and his eyes widen in shock.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, you snatch the shirt out of Chanyeol’s grip, rushing to put it on so that everyone will stop staring at you like you just told them you murdered someone.

“Mind your business,” you snap. You regret it instantly when Jongin’s face falls like a kicked puppy. It can’t be helped, you have a tendency to lash out when embarrassed.

“Dae! The meat!””

Gratefully, a hard gust of wind blows in, lifting the aluminum foil with the cooking meat off the grill, falling onto the sand.

That distracts everyone from you. You thank a higher power.

Jongdae stares forlornly at the meat, watching sand coat it like seasoning. 

“What are you doing!” Baekhyun yelps, rushing to his feet. “Pick it up!”

That pulls Jongdae out of whatever trance he was in and he lurches forward, grabbing the hot foil and tossing it onto the end of the table. He hisses and shakes his hands, sticking a reddening thumb into his mouth.

Baekhyun rushes over to the table for quality control and his shoulders slump at the damage.

“This batch is no good.”

“Way to go, Jongdae,” Chanyeol chides. He then peeks over to you, surreptitiously checking your reaction.

“Shut it!” Jongdae snaps back.

Seeing a good opportunity to escape, you go to make your way over to Seulgi. Chanyeol is not having that, and you only get one step in before he’s snatching your wrist, holding you in place in front of him.

“Don’t go,” he begs under his breath.

You refuse to look up at him, knowing that whatever expression he currently wears will kill what little resolve you have. You know you need to discuss what happened the night before, and why he woke up alone this morning, but you hate confrontation and don't want to have this conversation right at this moment. To be honest, you just want to relax for a bit. Is that so wrong?

You remain silent, not really sure what to say to get him off your back for the time being.

“Just talk to me,” he urges. “You were gone when I woke up, and….”

He falls silent, and you can’t resist the temptation any longer. You break and lift your chin, sucking in a breath at what greets you. It’s that same tortured expression from yesterday. Nerves, apprehension, and defeat swim in his opaque orbs, purple his lips. And you know you can no longer prolong with conversation. He’s hurting. You’re hurting him, and it’s not fair to keep tormenting him like this.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks dejectedly, intently searching you for the answer. 

You open your mouth to answer him. To tell him no, he did nothing wrong, but then Seulgi is calling your name and running up to you. She grabs the arm Chanyeol isn’t holding. “Let’s get in the water. It’s hot.”

She completely ignores Chanyeol as she heads for the shore, dragging you with her.

“I’m sorry,” is all you’re able to get out before you’re pulled completely from his gentle touch. He releases your wrist without a fight, letting you retreat glumly.

“I’m going to have to talk to him eventually,” you tell Seulgi, rolling your eyes. You hit the water and hiss from the shock of the freezing temperature.

“You two don’t get much talking done when you’re together,” she answers, breathless from the cold of the water.

Ignoring–and also maybe even embracing–the pain from the waves chilling your warm skin, you both run until you’re thigh deep and then dive right in, swimming deeper into the abyss. 

You float on your back and try to focus on the paradise you’re in, instead of the devastated look in Chanyeol’s eyes. To no avail.

There’s some crashing noises that pull you upright to see Baekhyun running in to join Seulgi and you.

When he’s close, he jumps onto Seulgi, pulling her under water. Not one to miss an opportunity, you hop onto his back. The three of you break the surface, sputtering for air.

You stay secured around Baekhyun as you all catch your breaths. 

“What the hell,” Seulgi coughs, splashing him in the face. He laughs, but chokes on the sea salt, and you squeal when you’re caught in her attack.

Letting go of Baekhyun, you swim back around so that Seulgi and you are turned towards the shore with him facing you both.

“Is he still sulking?” He asks.

You dare a glance over to where Chanyeol is, refusing to acknowledge how quickly you’re able to seek him out. He’s in the chair you had claimed, watching the water with a sullen pout as he rests his chin in his hand.

“Oh yeah,” Seulgi answers. “The clouds around him are turning gray, he’s in such a mood.”

“He wouldn’t be like that if you’d stop avoiding him, you know?”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you say. “We just spoke.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Yeah and I can tell you’re both on the same page. Nice talk.”

He throws you a sarcastic thumbs up, you stick your tongue out at him.

He grows solemn. “Please, say something to him. The poor man is beating himself up right now.”

You sink further into the water, dipping in until your mouth is submerged, and run a hand over the tiny waves bobbing you. 

Beside you, Seulgi sighs. “I may have ruined their talk.”

Baekhyun throws his head back and groans. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“How was I supposed to know?” She asks. “It looked like they were about to ditch us and fuck again. I’m just trying to help her not make another decision she’s going to instantly regret.”

“Whatever happens between them is their business, Seulgi,” Baekhyun says, sounding uncharacteristically reasonable. “You have to let them work through it their way.”

You wave your hand above your head like a needy sim. “I’m right here, you know?”

Seulgi pouts like a chastised child. “You’re right.”

Both Baekhyun and you spin your heads towards her in surprise.

“Did you just say I’m right?” Baekhyun asks. His shock quickly morphs into cockiness, if the grin splitting his face is any indicator.

She’s now the one to groan. “I will not be repeating myself.”

“I’ll cherish the moment for the rest of my life.” Baekhyun turns to you and his smile softens. “Talk to him soon. He’s getting annoying.”

“I will. I promise.” You assure. “Thank you, Hyunnie, for doing this. I know it isn’t easy for you either, being in the middle like this. I appreciate it.”

He shrugs. “You’re both my friends. I want to see you happy. I just hope you can work it out.”

Jongin and Jongdae come barrelling towards your group. As soon as you see your sweet friend, you can’t help but hold your arms out for him.

“Nini!” You cry. He laughs and falls into your embrace, tackling you back into the depths of the sea. When you both emerge, you apologize for yelling at him.

“You’re forgiven,” he says, never taking anything to heart. “But I was surprised. I didn’t expect to see all your bruises. It looks like you got beat up.”

You whine his name. “You’re making it worse.”

“Hey, they do say that weddings are the best place to pick up chicks,” Jongdae says. “Well, I guess dudes for you. Unless….”

He gives you a wicked smirk and you splash him.

“Anyway, good on you for getting some. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jongdae,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “Also, my bad on the shirt. I forgot I was wearing it before I got in here.”

He takes notice of his button down floating around you and gasps dramatically. “You better wash it before you give it back. It was expensive.”

You look at him skeptically. “This tourist shirt?”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to have those two cook the meat?” Baekhyun asks, putting your incoming argument with Jongdae to a halt. All five of you turn to the last people still on dry land. The tall boys stand over the grill, Chanyeol with the tongs in his hand. His eyebrows are scrunched as he listens to Sehun adamantly speaking, nodding and answering occasionally. it’s a deep conversation you don’t want any part of.

Jongdae shrugs. “I need a break. It’s hot.”

You all play in the water for some time. Once hunger becomes too great to ignore, you swim back to the beach. Immediately, you crack open a cold beer, nearly moaning when it hits your belly. Now this is what you need. You’ve been sober far too long.

Jongdae wasn’t lying about the heat. Even under the canopy, you can’t escape the sun’s harsh rays. You succumb to the weather and peel off Jongdae’s now dry shirt, not caring anymore if the other’s see your marks, it’s already old news.

Slowly, you all make your way to the table. it’s out in the open and everyone is a bit hesitant to sit out there, but that’s where the food resides. Both Baekhyun and Chanyeol take off their shirts, overwhelmed by the temperature.

“Holy shit, Yeol,” you hear Jongdae say. “What happened to you?”

Everyone glances over to the tall man and your heart sinks at the sight of his exposed back. It’s hard to miss the rows of scratches you carved down his shoulder blades, red and angry.

At the mention of his name, Chanyeol turns around, revealing his neck, shoulders, and chest that look exactly like yours. Actually, his marks are deeper, darker. You were really letting him have it. In your defense, he did encourage you to do your worst, so it is hard for you to find any sympathy to send to the giant.

A loaded silence fills the area as he locks eyes with you. You sigh. That’s enough of an answer for everyone.

Giving up, you chug your beer empty as the extra heat of everyone’s attention bounces back and forth between you both, connecting the purple and blue dots.

“No way….” Jongin’s fingers trace the trail of his eyes. “Did you two…?”

You close your eyes in dismay. You’re going to hear it now.

“Wait a damn minute!” Jongdae’s loud ass voice echoes over the speaker. “You mean to tell me Chanyeol was the one who left those hickeys on you!?”

He gives you an impressed grin. “You naughty girl.”

You simply sink lower into your chair.

“Are you guys together now?” Jongin asks, bouncing on his toes in giddy excitement.

“I mean….” Chanyeol searches you out in hopes you’ll answer that question for him as well.

The attention has you awkwardly laughing, readjusting yourself so that you’re sitting properly again. 

“Please, you guys,” you say, laughter coating every consonant. “It’s nothing.”

Chanyeol’s head tilts at that, eyes fluttering in confusion. “What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve made matters much worse. Chanyeol’s getting worked up now, and the last thing you want is to fight in front of everybody.

“I just mean it’s not a big deal.”

If your first sentence was you putting your foot in your mouth, this one is the whole damn leg.

“Not a big deal?” He repeats skeptically. He turns so that he’s properly looking at you, making sure he’s understanding correctly. “You think us having sex is ‘not a big deal’?”

“Okay,” Jongdae drawls. “Not together then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you begin to explain, really wishing this conversation wasn’t happening like this. “It was a big deal to me, okay? But they shouldn’t expect more because of it.”

“Like us getting back together?” He continues to question in a monotonous tone. “You’re saying that they shouldn’t get their hopes up about us getting back together just because we had sex.”

“Exactly!” You clap, glad he understands.

“So that wasn’t us getting back together?”

His disappointment is hard to disguise, and it makes you feel bad. Again you’re reminded that if you’d just talked before this wouldn’t be happening. You sigh and prepare yourself to explain where you’re coming from.

“Chanyeol–”

“Meat’s getting cold,” Sehun interrupts, ending the real conversation before it can start. You’re grateful for it, still not mentally prepared to break Chanyeol’s heart any further, although it seems you may be past that point. Chanyeol’s jaw is tense, honestly everything about him is tense as he nods his head like he finally understands something before stomping over to the table, sitting at the end furthest from the canopy. He grabs a beer, cracking it open and guzzling it down rather aggressively. 

Everyone else reluctantly takes Chanyeol’s lead. When Baekhyun passes you, he grimaces, politely letting you know that you messed up. Sehun is the last to walk past. He stops and reaches a hand out for you to grab. You sigh before taking it, allowing him to pull you up.

“The last thing I want right now is a lecture,” you tell him.

“I’m just checking on you,” he assures. “You good?”

You stare at him. ‘Do I look like I’m good’ written all over your face and he grins, gaining the reaction he wanted. It’s gone as quick as it comes, an air of seriousness taking over.

“I thought we talked about this.” He starts. 

You point a finger at him. “Lecture.”

He purses his lips and lets his attention wander to the table. Everyone is trying their best to lighten the mood. You look also and are surprised to see Seulgi attempt to make small talk with Chanyeol, although he doesn’t appear that interested in the conversation.

“Okay, no lecture, but let me say one thing.” You groan. “Don’t leave this island with unfinished business. That’s only going to hurt you both more.”

You’re still taking in the table as he speaks, and Chanyeol must feel it because he’s looking back at you. He holds your stare for a few seconds, then catches himself and breaks the contact. It’s selfish, but you’re comforted by the familiar longing still lingering there.

You nod at Sehun’s words, turning back to him. “Yeah. Got it.”

He doesn’t believe you and his expression says as much.

“Hey! Hurry up and grab a plate!” Jongin orders you both. 

Sehun pats your arm and heads over to the table, you follow a few steps behind. The food is delicious and the alcohol starts flowing. Soon the sun starts its slow descent, and with full bellies, you all relax more. At this moment, you can’t help but to miss Junmyeon. He’s always the one taking pictures, annoying everyone by forcing you all to pose for what feels like hundreds of photos. Sehun, his successor, makes sure to take as many candids and selfies as he can. You find it easy to smile whenever the camera is focused on you, even when Chanyeol is also in the frame.

Speaking of Chanyeol, the beer, good food, and friendship seems to be working in lifting his spirits. His loud voice carries throughout the beach, and you catch his boisterous laugh from time to time. You’re relieved to know that you haven’t completely ruined this trip for him. 

By this point, the sky is a lovely pink and orange, and you’re a bit tipsy. You close your eyes and sway to the beat of whatever song is playing, snapping along. Someone holds your hand, causing your eyes to spring open to see Jongin gently urging you out of your seat. You allow him to drag you into a clear patch of sand near the waves. You start dancing with him, connected hands swinging between you both as you reluctantly laugh. Jongin is your designated dance partner. He’s one of the better dancers of your group, and you’re shy. He got into the habit of getting you out onto the dancefloor to loosen you up in college. Now is no different. You both roll your bodies and sway your hips to the beat, encouraging each other. The longer you dance, the closer you get, until your forehead rests on his collarbone, arms wrap around each other’s waists, and Jongin’s cheek presses atop your head.

“Are you okay?” He softly asks.

His question causes your vision to blur. You stare unseeingly into the now gray sea, waves crashing urgently and tighten your hold around his torso.

“I don’t think so,” you confess. 

“I don’t understand,” he says, sounding both confused and frustrated. “You both love each other, right? Why fight?”

“It’s not that simple, Nini. I wish it was, but….” You shake your head, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Is it because of her?” He presses.

You close your eyes at the reminder of Yerim, another person your actions will hurt, and she’s yet to find out of your betrayal.

“Partially,” you admit.

Jongin rubs your back. “It'll work out. As long as you know what you want.”

You wipe your face and pull back to smile up at him, clipping his chin affectionately.

“Now that we’ve had that talk,” you say. “Let’s dance! We’re on vacation! I need to feel like it!”

He chuckles and spins you around so that your back is pressed against his torso.

“Turn the music up!” He orders. Whoever is in charge of the tunes obliges and you’re pleased when a song you can grind to comes on. You throw your arms up into the air and instantly lose yourself to the music, dancing back on Jongin who matches your moves easily.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings, you fail to notice someone joining your little party, but they make themselves known by gripping your arms, ripping you out of Jongin’s hold.

“What the–”

For the second time today, Chanyeol has pulled you away from someone. His hands are wrapped so tightly around your forearms, you wince from the pain. He doesn’t catch your discomfort, too busy giving Jongin the fiercest stare you’ve ever seen.

“Get the fuck off of her!” He snarls, dragging you even closer to him so that your face is pressed against his naked heaving chest.

You lean back and attempt to stare him down, but all you see is his sharp jaw.

“We’re just dancing,” you explain defensively.

That makes him look down at you, and you nearly gulp from the fury reflecting in his black orbs.

“That’s not how you ‘just dance’ with someone!”

That’s when you notice the way his words slightly blend together, notice how unsteady he is on his feet.

“You’re drunk,” you point out disappointedly. Remembering how good that did you both the last time he was under the influence.

He chuckles darkly at that. “So are you.”

Ugh, you aren’t anywhere near as faded as he currently is. You attempt to free yourself from him, but he’s holding onto you too tightly to break. There is no escape.

“Chanyeol, Bro, I swear that’s all we were doing,” Jongin calmly reassures.

“Don’t call me ‘bro’,” Chanyeol hisses. “You’ve always been like this, Jongin. You were always touching her! Don’t think I never noticed.”

“She’s my friend,” he says slowly, carefully, as if he’s speaking to a child.

“And she was my fiance!” Chanyeol all but roars. “But that never stopped you!”

You glance around. His outburst draws everyone’s attention and they watch the three of you curiously. Baekhyun and Sehun start to get up from their seats, probably intending to de-escalate the situation, but you don’t want to get anybody else involved. This is between Chanyeol and you. What is happening now is the consequence of you stalling the ‘what are we’ conversation you should’ve had the night before.

“Leave him alone, Yeol,” you mutter. “He’s not the one you’re mad at. It’s me.”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, too focused on the man behind you. “Why won’t he answer me then? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I promise I–”

Before Jongin can finish defending himself, you cut him off by putting your hands on Chanyeol’s chest, throwing your weight to shove him. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have budged, but his inebriation works in your favor, making him stumble a few steps. Unfortunately, he takes you with him, and you fall forward. He lets go of your arms to catch you by the waist, steadying you both.

“You okay?” He asks with worry.

“Yeah,” you huff. You pat his shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

There’s a boardwalk a few meters away that looks deserted, that is probably the best place to have this discussion. Not waiting for an answer, you easily break his hold and start walking towards it. Chanyeol says something to Jongin you can’t catch over the sound of the sea, but it sounds smug enough that you sigh deeply in dismay. You’ll apologize to Jongin tomorrow, you promise to yourself.

When you pass the table, you lock eyes with both Baekhyun and Sehun.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, not even sure if you believe it. It’s enough for them, they stand down and nod, trusting you.

The journey is silent. The sun has disappeared completely by the time you’re on the worn wood, enveloping you in an almost foreboding darkness. The crashing of waves are intense beneath you, doing nothing to soothe your nerves. When you reach the end of the walk, you turn around to the man you know was following you the whole time.

He’s on you before you can even speak. His mouth moves roughly against yours, urgent and desperate. His frustration is felt, as is his still present affection. You fall easily into his kiss, giving into him as naturally as you always have. Your hands curl around his neck, pulling him closer. He cups your face, the palms of his hands squishing your cheeks, puckering your lips more for him to devour. He walks you backwards, until your bare back hits the splintered wood of the banister. it digs into your skin, making you whimper, but it’s not enough pain to distract you from the punishing pressure of Chanyeol’s lips.

The groan he lets out in response is tortured, long fingers desperately begin pulling at the band of your swimsuit bottoms, eager to feel all of you again. 

In sync, your mouths fall open, tongues colliding and lewdly twirling together. God. Fuck. You want him. You want him so bad it’s driving you crazy. You’re going to fuck him again. You’re going to fuck him right here on this damn boardwalk, space be damned–

But, that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

“Stop,” you gasp between kisses.

He hums before tilting his head to kiss you even deeper. Those wandering hands of his slide down to squeeze your ass. You shutter and press yourself more against him, slipping your arms fully around his neck to drag him lower so that he’s curved over you. A sheen of sweat the only thing between your boiling bodies.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to fall back completely into the make out session. Disappointment floods you. Seulgi is right, the two of you can’t be alone for even a second without falling into this toxic habit.

Now annoyed with how weak you are, you finally muster the strength to shove Chanyeol back, officially breaking the kiss.

With much needed space between you, you feel the fog of lust begin to clear and can think better. Chanyeol doesn’t say anything or make a move to resume what you interrupted. No. He just stands there, watching you with an expression you find hard to read as you both attempt to catch your heaving breaths. 

“What?” He finally asks, voice hoarse and deeper than hell. “You don’t want me anymore, Mel?”

There’s no sorrow, none of the longing or anger he’s shown throughout the day, which is surprising. It’s almost as if he knew this was how the night was going to go. Like he knew you were going to push him away.

“That….” You swallow thickly. “That’s not it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks, taking a step towards you. You try to counter it, but that leads to more wood stabbing you. You’re sure some break the skin. He takes another step and now he’s directly in front of you, a mere breath away. He lowers his head to be more level with yours, giving you a close up view of his wound up fury.

“The problem,” you nearly stutter, overwhelmed by the hostility now coming off of him in waves. He’s never directed his anger towards you–the situation maybe, but never you–it’s intimidating and scary. You lick your dry lips, trying to find your voice, and he watches detachedly. ��My problem is the opposite, Chanyeol. I still very much do.”

“That doesn’t seem like a problem to me.”

“Look at us!” You say. “We can’t be alone for five seconds without being all over each other! Last night was not supposed to happen the way it did! We weren’t supposed to sleep together!”

“But we did,” he snarls through clenched teeth. “And that means something, whether you want it to or not!”

“All that it means to me is we need space. This is too much for me, Yeol. We need time apart to figure out what the hell we actually want.”

“What is too much for you?” He asks, sounding exasperated. “The way I feel about you? The way you still feel about me? What is there to figure out? We still want each other, nothing else matters!”

“We still want each other physically!” You clarify. “I can agree with that, but the longer we’re together, the more I think that’s all we want!” 

“Of course not!” He finally yells. You flinch from the volume and that makes him catch himself. He huffs out a breath before repeating in a much gentler tone, “of course not.”  

He grabs one of your hands, thumb caressing your knuckles. “You are way more than that. You always have been. This is more than physical to me.”

Everything inside of you is screaming to believe him, and he himself is asking for that. For you to have faith in this, and to give it a chance. 

“Then why didn’t you say it back?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the forming tears in your eyes and the slight wobble of your lips in confusion. He searches for the context to your question. It takes a minute, but then his eyes widen in realization and his mouth falls open, a slight ‘oh’ leaving before he’s snapping it back shut. The look he gives you after that is something akin to pity.

And there is your answer. You pull your hand out of his grasp, using it to wipe away the tears that slipped past your waterline. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He scrambles in alarm from your withdrawal. “Can you please stop saying shit like that?”

“Why?” You snap. Your irritation grows with every second he doesn’t give you the answer you desire. “It doesn’t. I didn’t mean it anyways. It just slipped out, so…yeah.”

You fidget nervously and try to make out the waves crashing against the wood underneath you. You’re so focused on that, you miss the way Chanyeol recoils in shock. You also miss the reigniting flames of his dimming anger.

“So when you told me you loved me, you didn’t mean it. Yet, you’re mad at me for not saying it?”

Him saying it out loud makes you cringe in embarrassment. As if he hasn’t done enough, you sense mockery in his tone. When you meet his eye again, the anger is still there, but it’s mostly frustration you notice.

“I’m not mad that you didn’t say it,” you deny.

“Yes you are!” He lets out a humorless laugh. Yeah, he’s definitely frustrated. “Is that what all this is about? Why you left this morning? Look, I’m sorry! It wasn’t because I didn’t feel the same, I was just…preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied with what?” You ask in disbelief.

He gives you a steady look, eyebrows raised in a way to say, ‘you know what’. It takes a minute for you to decipher what he’s alluding to, but then you remember what happened right after your little confession and groan his name, appalled.

“See?” He’s grinning like a madman now, pulling at your arms in an attempt to catch your attention. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear. And once I did, I couldn’t control myself anymore. You telling me you love me made me cum.”

“Be serious right now,” you say, frowning in disgust.

“Oh, I’m very serious right now,” he says, that gleefully large grin still on his face.

You throw him a skeptical look. “You’re smiling and talking about cum. You think this is a joke.”

That makes his smile slowly disappear. He says your name. “I don’t think this is funny. I’m telling you the truth. You want me to prove it to you? Hm? I’ll say it right now. I lo–”

“I don’t want to hear it now!” You interrupt in a shout. “If you had said it then, things might’ve been different, but you didn’t. I don’t care why you didn’t either. That was all the confirmation I needed. We have no idea what we want from this.”

“Here we go again,” he groans, walking a bit away from you.

You jut your jaw at that. “I’m going to repeat myself until you get it through that thick skull. Whatever happened, happened. It’s done. We’re done.”

Chanyeol’s frustration is back with a vengeance. His fingers run through his dark hair, yanking at the strands as he starts pacing in front of you. “How can you say that when you had your tongue down my throat minutes ago? You let me cum inside you! You told me you loved me! And that’s it? There’s mixed signals and then there’s whatever the fuck you’re doing right now.”

“There you go talking about cum again,” you mutter to yourself. Louder, “I’m being realistic! It’s only been three days. Three! And, what? We’re just supposed to pick up right where we left off? Act like the past few years never happened? That’s not how this works, and I doubt that’s healthy. We need more time.”

“I already told you that I’ll always love you, and I meant that. I know you’re scared, Mel. Hell, I’m scared too. You’re right, things are moving fast, but that’s because we still care for each other. I know you still love me. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t. This wouldn’t be us pretending we never broke up. This can be us realizing that we’re better together. That we’re even stronger now that we’ve had time to figure out who we are apart. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It was,” you’re quick to emphasize the past tense. “But I’ve changed a lot since the last time you saw me, Yeol, so stop acting like you know me.”

Something you say catches his attention, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You haven’t changed much.” He says your name. “I still know you, probably better than anybody else here. Just like you still know me.” 

He’s stilled from pacing, and it’s a bit ominous after watching him frantically walk for the past couple minutes. He runs a hand over his face tiredly and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, that’s really what this is about.”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I was hoping it wasn’t, but what you just said…. It all makes sense now.” He’s muttering under his breath, talking to himself.

“What are you going on about?” You ask.

“This morning, when I woke up and you weren’t there, I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, that you would do something like that, but I knew what happened the moment I realized you had left me.”

Your body begins to shake, and it isn’t from the cold. Foreboding chills your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, sharpening once he locks eyes with you, the accusations hard to miss.

“You still hate me.”

His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, trembling–as are his shoulders, his voice. He closes his eyes, taking deep calming breaths you doubt help him much. 

“And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me. That you changed since the ‘last time I saw you’. Was that your plan all along? To seduce me? Make me think you still gave a shit so that I’d let you fuck me and then leave? Was last night revenge sex?”

“No,” you gasp, genuinely shocked by his conclusion. “I already told you, it was a lapse of judgment–”

“I’m not playing this fucking game with you!” He shouts. His voice breaks, just like his heart currently does. “You don’t get to hurt me again. You can’t play with my feelings everytime I allow myself to be open with you. Maybe you’re right, Mel. Maybe I don’t know you anymore, because I never thought you could do something this fucking cruel.”

“Me? Cruel?” Your anger flares up. “What the fuck about you? You come here, bring some other girl you care nothing for, and then pretend like we never knew each other! Then proceeded to ignore her the whole time to flirt with me any chance you got!”

“We’re not talking about this trip!” Chanyeol dismisses. “I should have never brought her, I know that now, but that’s not what this is about. This is about the time before that, when you gave me back the engagement ring!”

Sehun mentioned the night before the wedding that you have a baseless grudge against Chanyeol, one that twisted the love you have for him, crossing that thin line over to hate. He was positive you made something up, a ‘lie’ he called it, to keep Chanyeol at arm’s length from your heart in order to protect it. The truth is that Sehun grew cocky. He believed so deeply that you couldn’t keep anything from him, that it was impossible to with the way he can so easily read you, that he never suspected when you did. It was only one thing. One thing you decided to keep to yourself, refusing to confide in even Sehun. The reason? To protect the man in front of you, the same way he protected you.

The last thing you want is to bring it up, but technically, Chanyeol is doing it first.

“Gave it back?” You’re in total disbelief. “You took it back the morning after you slept with me and then completely ghosted like I was some one night stand!”

“That’s what you wanted!” 

“When?” You ask, baffled. “When I invited you over? Or was it in the middle of us having sex?”

He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “Okay, but why did you invite me over?”

“Because I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his own anger from that day getting the best of him. “Because you wanted to give me the ring back!”

His voice has risen, and it silences you completely. 

“Fuck!” He’s saying your name again, but there isn’t an ounce of affection. “You wanted to return the ring. It was the one thing–the only thing that gave me hope. I told you to keep it, because I knew as long as you still had it, there was still a future for us. But then you called me. It hadn’t even been a year since our separation–because that’s what we were, separated not broken up–and the first time I hear from you it’s to tell me you want to give me back your fucking ring!”

Your head is spinning, attempting to comprehend everything he just admitted, filling in blanks you have been trying to figure out for years now. You hate to admit it, but some things are starting to make sense. 

“So, which was it then?” You question rather calmly. “You were still hurt from when I broke things off, so when I reached out you saw your chance to return the favor? Or was it because you thought that’s why I asked you to come over, so you got upset, slept with me, and left as a big fuck you?”

“Neither,” he reveals, evident disgust from your thought process. “Sleeping with you that night just happened. I didn’t do it with the intention to hurt you.”

“Sounds familiar,” you point out. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It feels like you’re going nowhere. Like you’re speaking in circles. “But okay, fine, say I believe that you didn’t do it to hurt me. Why did you leave?”

“Because I didn’t want what happened that night to become our normal,” he admits. “You knew how I felt about you, and I didn’t want you to take advantage of that–of me. Come on, Mel, you’ve always known the power you have over me. If you had told me that night that all you wanted from me was sex, I’d given that to you. Hell, if you told me right now that’s all you want, I’d give it to you. I’d give you anything. You’re my Melody.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “But I knew that if I reduced myself to that just to keep you, it would destroy me. I didn’t want to lose myself like that. And I don’t ever want to hate you. That’s why I ultimately left. Took the ring–like you told me to–and ran before you could change my mind. That was me setting a boundary for myself. I had to let you go before I allowed you to use and break me.”

Your heart sinks at his explanation. “Do you really think I’d treat you like that?”

“Do you really think I’d make love to you and not mean it?” He counters.

Again, you’re back at square one. Blinking at one another, trying to figure out where you stand in each other’s hearts. With the newfound knowledge of Chanyeol’s thoughts on that infamous day, you look internally. To be honest, his words don’t sway you much. The hurt from that day is still painful. You vividly remember the way your heart shattered when he was nowhere to be found. To add salt to the wound, he had blocked you on everything, so that you had no way to contact him afterwards. Yes, you really did believe he was capable of doing that.

“No matter what your intention was that day,” you start. “The result is still the same.”

Once Chanyeol hears this, you watch him build up a wall, closing you off from him for the first time. Until right now, you believed he wasn’t capable of doing that to you. That it couldn’t be helped or that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down in your presence. But watching all the vulnerability, all the honesty, all the affection he had for you vanish before your eyes, you realize you have been giving yourself too much credit.

“I guess that makes us even now, right?” He asks bitterly. 

You turn away, partially out of guilt, but also because you can’t stomach the haunted shadow dulling him. He’s right, in a sick way. You both ran away, hurting the other despite the reasoning behind it.

“So, that’s it then?” He asks when you fail to say anything.

“Chanyeol….” You turn back to him and instantly are bombarded with regret. You can so easily fix this. If you really want to, you can tell him that you forgive him for that night, that you truly never meant to hurt him and that the night before meant everything to you. You can walk off this boardwalk hand in hand, laughing with giddiness from falling back in love with your soulmate. Rejoining your friends who would be nothing but ecstatic and supportive of you working through your issues and returning to one another. You can do that. It will only take one simple sentence. 

But you don’t forgive him, and you haven’t really resolved anything. Your new relationship would be built on the foundation of ignorance, avoidance, and lust. You didn’t want that, not if it is the cost of having him back at this moment. You both have some healing to do before jumping into this again, and this conversation proved that. You aren’t ready.

“I–yeah. I think it would be for the best if we end things here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in defeat. He sniffs and scratches the back of his head. “You’re probably right. There’s not much else I can say to make you stay.”

He takes you in one more time. In his reluctance, it’s as if he’s giving you a chance to change your answer, but you both know you won’t. Guess he does still know you well. He clears his throat and without saying goodbye, walks away. 

He’s about to clear the walk when you’re yelling at him to wait.

He does. He faces you and watches with wide eyes as you run hastily over to him. You stop at a safe distance, close enough to see him under the dim moonlight, but far enough away that you can’t feel the distracting heat of his body. 

He observes you warily, probably wondering how you’re going to break his heart this time. It’s that bit of doubt that made you run. There’s one last thing he needs to know, the one thing he needs to take away from this conversation, if nothing else.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s the last thing he expected, and his reaction reflects that. His eyes grow glossy and he does his best to blink the unshed tears back, while also fighting the frown weighing the corners of his lips, causing them to tremble. Wordlessly, he reaches out to you, cupping the back of your head, and you let him. You allow him to touch you, to bring you close to him, relishing in his heat against the chilling bite of the ocean’s breeze. He pulls you in and presses a tender lingering kiss onto your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your skin.

And then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

And you watch, as his fire dims and he blends with the gray of your surroundings before disappearing out of sight.

You pray to god that’s not a metaphor.

series m.list | main m.list

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taglist @byunparklimchoi, @defloey @notyuji @hisungovenaocare @theawesomehero7714

[girlbowser]

sorry for taking so long to get back to you (im the "wowzers" anon) but yes! i can totally scream your ear off about this!

you talking about the routes in this game being a metaphor for college and purposes in life reminds me of what playing pqr has meant for me personally. i first found this game when jade's route was still being worked on (the "anticlimatic" update specifically) and its really so strange to see how much of my life has changed. a couple days after i started playing pqr i realized that i was going to have to move and it basically uprooted my life (realization not brought on by pqr just happened to be at around the same time). most of my plans for how i wanted to spend my life, seeing my friends, my career paths, kinda felt like they got eviscerated because of stuff out of my control. but i just like. ignored it and didnt really think about it :) at least until the move happened and it all came crashing down. im sorta better now, but still going through it. and. just seeing jade talk to kanaya and talk about not knowing where to go next or who exactly you are now plus the jade theme music playing in the background that i had listened to constantly while playing, replaying, and rereplaying jade's route. actually made me want to bawl my eyes out (in like a good way though lol). this game is so special to me. its been one of the main things in my life right now thats been keeping me going through it all. i love to go back to it and replay it comparing the older routes to the newer routes and see what references i missed. everytime i play it, it feels like a find something new. and i think even years after now and even if homestuck becomes a smaller part of my life, this game is going to stick with me forever. thank you so so so much.

also, on a sillier note, what the heckadoodle do you mean the fucking hampsters movie was real? i was just like oh haha thats a silly idea! a hamsters movie with the hamster dance! such a funny and fake thing to have in a homestuck fangame! its like guy fieri being the antichrist or gushers being made by a genocidal fish! silly fictional stories making up silly fictional things!

but like i looked it up and its real??? its fucking real????? its a movie i can watch with my very own two eyeballs. apparently fucking saberspark made a video about it?????? huh??????

actually i just realized this is probably very congruous with homestuck. because i do not know how to convey the shock i felt when i was in a convenience store and found out that faygo was real. and then the further shock when i realized that tab was real after telling myself that SURELY at least one drink in homestuck was fictional.

im not sure if you meant to send this to @pesterquestrewritten or not but. holy fucking shit this is one of the sweetest asks ive ever gotten of all time????? jesus christ. oh my god.

i dont think i need to say it but pqr has been a very similar lifeline for ME as well. like, ive been dealing with some pretty schnasty depression since/before leaving school. and, like, working on pesterquest rewritten, HAVING that outlet, that creative place to put my energies, its been so vital for me. and then hearing that its been the same for my READERS????? crazy. crazy wild shit

speaking of older routes, i DID actually go back and add one thing to the rose typewriter ending in the prologue, it uses a new renpy feature that i'd been asking for for months hahaha

and also, if you have the technical knowhow and youre curious, feel free to dig around the internals and find the hidden beta for bonus route 3. im not gonna tell you to not play it lmao

aaa

yeah! yeah yeah yeah yeah. im incredibly happy my writing has resonated. and that the silly puppet show i put on next to my writing has also resonated. its. yeah. waow

wawowawoawoaowoaowaw.

fun fact about the hampsterdance movie. one time when i was in high school i had a professor who was like "yeah i composed music for hampsterdance." and i was like ???? okay man. sure. because at the time that movie was lost media and nobody knew it existed. so i had no fuckin clue what that guy was talking about.

of course YEARS later it turns out that the movie DOES exist. and i looked up the credits and i dont THINK i see his name there? but its probably what hes talking about. if it isnt what hes talking about i have less of a fucking clue than anything at this point lmao

pqr likes to reference my other works a lot! for example, the chatroom called "the nexus" first appeared here, in my first published fic that was textually about ultaradia. youll sometimes find quotes or phrasing that match whatever other fanfic i was writing at the time, or, i mean, obviously, you've got the entire A Bed of Roses section, which USED to be a tribute to my longest work, and now is only a neat reference to my second-longest work. god damn, did pesterquest rewritten ever grow out of proportion lmao

yeah. i think the main thing is that i really could never have gotten as far as i did with pqr without my friends and creative collaborators, who have encouraged me forever one thousand years. pqr is a game about friendship, obviously, but the friendships that were integral in the CREATION of the game are even more important to me than the virtual ones tbh. i love everyone whos in the credits of the game very dearly

thank u all :,)

and thank u for reading and enjoying!!! i'll try and put out more for the kanayaroute bad end tonight :D

[fictionfixations]

where there's a will, we make a way | TMA Fic | Time Travel (Fic Rec)

its. so cool. i dont know what happens in what seasons but tags apparently say like around the middle of s5?? like. i think when hes in his coma (jon)

also oh my god the author put in a shit ton of work?? like so theres a thing where Jon's unable to say his own words, and is stuck saying things from other people's statements, (its literally in the first chapter so no actual spoil) AND THE NOTES INCLUDE WHAT EPISODES HAVE THE DIALOGUE HES USING?? like

im going to give you a part from chapter 8, partly because i really wanted to show you it compiled together instead of just strings of sentences at the beginning:

Growing frantic now, Jon shakes his head vehemently: No, no, no, no, no–

“Then what?”

“…chased me – deceit – follow me” – a skip backwards – “read it – tried to read me back–”  

“Jon, slow down,” Georgie says, sensing his onrush of panic – but he can’t.

“I’ve been tricked into–”  

“–unable to look away–”  

“–there was now a tragedy to it that flowed from the words–”  

“–nothing to do but fall into it – it felt right, like it was all I could do–”  

The words come in a halting staccato, his mind speeding through statement after statement without him like a microfiche machine caught on fast-forward.

“–even as I did so, in the back of my mind I hated myself–”  

“–I didn’t stop, though – didn’t know what to do, and my mind was swimming with – the collective horror of all the things that I had seen and felt–”  

“–I struggled and fought, but it was far stronger than I was, and I could barely keep its jagged teeth from finding my throat–”  

One hand finds his throat now. He can only distantly feel fingernails digging into his skin.

“–‘alien’ might be the best word for that presence – because what it made me feel was–”  

“–something in the back of my mind, a frantic, scuttling terror – didn’t do any good, though – no matter what I might feel about it – choice didn’t even come into it–”  

The Archive was born with a purpose, and it fulfilled its role eagerly, skillfully, instinctively. It felt good, it felt right, and even now, the instinct lingers. He misses it. He craves it. He wants it back. He –

“ –the agony of being opened and remade – to have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place–”   

There is a rushing noise in his ears, drowning everything out, and he stumbles –

“–I did what I did because it was what I was supposed to do – I’m not sure I really recognize who I became–”   

see what i mean????? its COOL. scroll down to end notes and you see (for chapter 8) "- SO, [deep breath] Jon's dialogue for Chapter 8 comes from the statements in the following episodes, in order: MAG 057; 125; 029; 138; 159; 161; 143; 143 (again); 135; 027; 088; 148; 114; 114/139; 011; 094; 063; 069; 124; 020; 067; 060; 141; 160; 147; 091; 072/009/007/004; 066/020/010; 106/059; 101; 059; 004; 102; 004; 147; 160; 020; 144; 138; 107; 048/007; 128/138; 126; 062/087/007/139/070/049; 123; 065; 092/145; 086/029; 044/012/049; 137/009/014; 091; 123; 148; 154; 154 (again); 098; 154; 129; 155; 167; 159; 057; 113; 124/057/009/143/011/017/005; 152; 152 (again); 097; 028; 023; 065; 155; 117; 117 (again); 155; 006; 113; 117 (x4); 128; 128 (again); 045/002; 016; 036/109/135; 048; 052/136/090; 124; 069; 098; 133; 058; 140; AAAAND FINALLY: 010." SO COOL???? AND OH MY GOD ALL THAT EFFORT.

[varteeny1234]

HI. I AM VERY SORRY FOR ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

Summary:

Reader goes to use the Dark Oak kingdom's cobblestone farm and Viking finds them! yay

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 463

Warnings: THIS IS AN X READER. I REPEAT, THIS IS AN X READER

Ship: viking/reader (im not typing out the full user. no one will find this)

Extra author's note: I have written this with avid's character in mind. please use this as your last dying comfort. i sold a piece of my soul writing this. i would do numbers on wattpad

It was a new day on Skyblock Kingdoms. The sun was shining over your kingdom, and you had a happy smile on your face. You had a lot of plans for builds to work on, and were excited to get to work!

But first, you noticed, you had a lot of resources to gather. You hadn't collected any cobblestone in a while, and your backup supplies were starting to run low. You needed some for one of your projects. Luckily, you knew that there was a handy cobblestone farm over at the Dark Oak kingdom that practically everyone used!

You flew over, turned on the farm, and almost immediately you had your hands full with stacks upon stacks of blocks. It would only take a minute to fill the shulker boxes you'd brought with you.

You started to put blocks away, humming along to a tune stuck in your head, when a sudden voice from right behind you made you jump.

"Well, well. Looks like I've just caught someone using my cobblestone farm without telling me!"

It was Viking.

You stood up, pretending Viking wasn't still looming over you, and decided to play it cool. "Oh, you know, I just figured that it wouldn't take too long, and no one would notice..." You trailed off, looking anywhere but Viking's piercing gaze. His tail flicked, and he smirked. 

"Y/N, I always know. Just because I don't tell you, doesn't mean I'm not aware!" 

You squeaked in alarm. "Wh- you- what?!" Suddenly, every time you'd sneakily used the cobblestone farm (and some of the other Dark Oak farms) without telling Viking flashed through your mind in a horrible slideshow. "You always know?" You asked weakly.

Viking put a hand on your shoulder, before tracing the side of your jawline and tilting your chin upwards. "Yeah. That's what I said, Y/N! Every time you visit. Every time anyone visits, actually. No one on this server is sneaky about it."

That made you laugh, at least... even if the sudden movement caused Viking's fingertip to dig a little bit further into your skin. The tip of his claws (oh, right, he had those) poked at your neck. Had you been breathing that loudly the entire time?

You bit your lip, knowing you were blushing and incredibly obviously at that. 

But before you could do anything, Viking let you go!

"Well, enjoy your cobblestone. Nice talking to you, Y/N!" He winked, waving his goodbye as he sauntered back to wherever he'd come from. You stared, slightly dazed, as he retreated. What a strange person he was!

A moment or so later, of course, you finished putting all of the cobblestone into the shulker boxes. You'd forgotten what you'd needed it for in the first place.