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fgumi · 14 days ago

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i need more loser!heeseung after reading that oh my gosh . yes yes yes yes. #needhim #needthat

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LO$ER = LO♡ER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, headcanon, WC; 2.7k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive (what’s heeseung supposed to do when you’re so hot?), A/N; your wish is my command. i absolutely love loser!heeseung. it's a need. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso @hollyoongs @hoonieyun }

loser!heeseung was excited. so excited. why you may ask? because you agreed to go to anime con with him. you even suggested that the two of you cosplay. you asked to go as lucy and david from cyberpunk edgerunners, something that fit the aesthetic you two had built. so, heeseung checked himself out in the mirror, fumbling with the yellow jacket you sewed for him and fixing the pieces of his hair that fell out.

“baby, i think we’re gonna be late if we don’t head out n—”

you came out in your outfit as you adjusted the belt resting on your hip. heeseung didn’t have any words. you looked… gosh, how could he describe you without being weird? you were beautiful, even on the days you didn’t feel it. but… right now? heeseung felt ashamed to say that he understood all those nasty guys thirsting over cosplayers. holy crap, he hit the lotto. you were a vision.

“hee? do i look weird? i wasn’t sure about the wig either,” you pouted as you touched the long white strand.

“no!” heeseung shouted, then cleared his throat. “you look really good.”

you smiled and walked up to him, checking out the two of you in the mirror. “you also look very handsome. we make a good lucy and david, huh?”

your eyes glanced at heeseung through the mirror and noticed he was still looking at you with his mouth agape. you turned to him and waved your hand in front of his face. “hee?”

as he kept staring at you, you shifted. you couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. heeseung gulped. how was he going to keep all those creepy guys away from you? he can’t even fight! he’d have to cover you up! but then he wouldn’t get to look at you in this… this outfit.

you softly planted a kiss on his cheek and that brought him out of his daze. his ears were bright red when he stepped away from you.

“i— uh. um. we— you—” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

a giggle escaped you at his lack of words. you did a little spin for him. man, heeseung couldn’t help his eyes drifting down at the cutouts on your hips and how short your—no! stop objectifying her. bad heeseung. that is your lovely girlfriend, who you love very much and who, for some odd reasons, loves you too.

“hee,” you interrupted, your lashes lowering—wow, you looked ready to eat him. “i thought we were gonna be late?”

you crept up to him, your hand ghosting over his arm. you pressed into him. “i mean, we don’t have to go. i just thought you wanted—”

you didn’t end up going, by the way. your couple’s cosplay never saw the light of day. instead, they were scattered on your bedroom floor.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how to feel when you asked to play d&d with him. while he said yes (because he’d never say no to you), he was admittedly nervous. what if you thought he was a big nerd and wanted to leave him? what if you hated how he dm’d (dungeon master)? well, it was too late now. you guys were on your way to jeongin’s apartment.

contray to heeseung’s overthinking, you were excited. you finally got to experience one of heeseung’s favorite pastimes. you didn’t really understand the whole thing, but you were open to it! you did some late-night research and built your own little character. she was an eladrin sage druid at level 6. heeseung made sure to let you know that you’d be thrown right into the middle of this campaign and that all the other characters were at level 6.

when you guys arrived at the door, jeongin threw it open and you were taken aback. he was in full costume, armor and all. apparently, jeongin was also taken aback. he didn’t think you were actually coming.

“oh! uh, welcome to my apartment, y/n!” he stepped aside to let you and heeseung in. inside, you saw unfamiliar faces who were also in costume. jeongin pulled heeseung aside and whispered. “i didn’t think you were serious when you said that y/n was coming! and where’s your costume?”

heeseung gave him an apologetic look. “dude, i’m sorry. you know i can’t say no to her. and i didn’t want to overwhelm her before we even left the apartment.”

jeongin sighed. “you better still dm the same with the voices and everything. and no preferential treatment!”

heeseung nodded and went to sit by you. you leaned into him and whispered. “i feel incredibly underdressed. did you know they were going to dress up?”

he rubbed the back of his neck. “we usually do for every session.”

you pouted and looked him up and down. “i would’ve tried dressing up too if i knew! where’s your costume?”

oh, how heeseung loved you. you didn’t even bat an eye that they were all losers that liked to play dress up on a weekly basis. you were just put out that you weren’t told.

“i didn’t wanna pressure you when it’s your first time,” heeseung said, patting your knee. usually, heeseung would kiss your pout away, but he was in a room full of friends who were very blatantly staring at you.

a throat cleared, drawing heeseung’s attention towards jeongin. in a (poor) scottish accent, jeongin said. “dungeon master, the fellowship awaits ye!”

heeseung nodded and pulled out his notes for the campaign. when you tried to peek, he immediately leaned away, keeping the notebook shut. “the people in the campaign can’t see this,” he said.

understanding, you stopped trying to look. you just pulled out your phone with your character sheet on it. jeongin paused in his seat. “oh, y/n, did you need to build your character first? we can wait for you,” jeongin said in his normal voice.

you shook your head and waved your phone. “i built one in d&d beyond! i came prepared, sort of?”

now, jeongin didn’t have much opinion on you other than that you were heeseung’s really hot girlfriend. but, after seeing how you tried to prepare, he could say that he liked you.

once everyone settled down, heeseung resumed the campaign. it amazed you how he was able to switch between all those voices, acting out the npcs of the quest. the way you were staring at him intently made heeseung unusually nervous.

whenever his eyes shifted over to you, his dialogue faltered for a sec before he continued. he interacted with the others of the campaign before coming to a point in the story where you could hop in. you put on a proper english accent, trying to sound as much like arwen from lord of the rings (you watched it countless times with heeseung). if no one else was in the room right now, heeseung would’ve died from your cuteness. a part of him was geeking out right now. his girlfriend, the love of his life, was playing d&d with him. what did he do in his past life to deserve this?

then came the fights. as he narrated, his friends rolled on their turns, fighting against the monsters that heeseung created. when it came to your turn, you looked a bit out of your depth. you were scrolling through moves in the d&d index to see which ones you could do. everyone was thankfully patient with you.

“i use a 3rd level spell slot and call upon lightning to strike the monster closest to jeongin?” you commanded unsurely.

heeseung leaned over, careful to not expose any notes. “baby, you’re gonna hit jeongin with that spell and you gotta reference his character, not him. that spell has a damage radius of 5 feet. the monster is only 3 feet away from him.”

you deflated as you scrolled through your list of spells. you turned your phone to heeseung, showing him the spell you wanted to use instead. “can i use flame arrows instead?”

heeseung could just die from how cute you were. he shook his head and scrolled through your list and clicked on wind wall. “you can use this one and surround the monster. it’ll take bludgeoning damage once the wall forms, regardless of his strength saving throw.”

you nodded and got back into character. you acted as if you were really putting a wind wall up and commanded more confidently. “i erect a wind wall around the monster and separate him from thralladin.”

heeseung got back to dm’ing and rolled his dice, falling short for a saving throw. he took note of the damage and continued everyone else’s turn. the night was fun! heeseung couldn’t believe how quickly you picked it up or how into it you were. at the end of the night, when everyone was leaving, jeongin pulled him aside again. “dude, y/n’s actually cool.”

pride swelled in heeseung’s chest. you managed to get the okay from his friend, not that it really affected how he felt for you. you two said your goodbyes to jeongin and walked home. you were filled with excitement for the next session. “what kind of clothes should i get for illanaria? i’m thinking white robes with some sheer drapes to add a bit of flair. i really need to study up on my spells so i don’t keep wasting time scrolling through the index. should i also get a notebook?”

just when heeseung didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, you proved him wrong.

loser!heeseung has met your parents, but in passing. however, today was a dinner meant to force—he means give a chance (don’t tell y/n he said that)—him to talk to your parents in length.

“don’t be nervous! my mom’s loved you since high school!”

ya, it’s not your mom he’s worried about. your dad on the other hand? what was he even going to talk about with him? football? heeseung could barely understand the sport. home improvement? he always needed your help to build ikea furniture. there wasn’t much he could do to gain some points with your dad. he just prayed that he wouldn’t hate him too much.

after 4 years (you recently celebrated your anniversary!) of being together, heeseung was finally going to talk to your dad. no more small talk while he waits for you to come down. he was actually going to have to make conversation with your father. if his phone didn’t tell him how cold it was, he’d think it was summer with how he was sweating.

the door swung open to reveal your mom, who looked as jovial and vibrant as ever. “kids! come in, come in. it’s freezing out there. that stupid global warming is really messing with the temperature.”

heeseung greeted her warmly, awkwardly accepting her bear hug while balancing the mac n’ cheese in his right hand. she pulled away and gasped. “you brought your famous mac n’ cheese! y/n’s been raving about this ever since she had it. i can’t wait to try it!”

when she rushed off to set it on the dinner table, your dad appeared with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. he peered up at heeseung, since heeseung was slightly taller, and stared at him for a moment.

“so… you brought mac n’ cheese,” your dad said plainly.

heeseung laughed nervously. “i hope that’s okay?”

when your dad didn’t say anything for a second, you slapped his chest. “dad, stop intimidating him!”

your dad cracked a smile before ruffling your hair. “alright, sweetheart.” he clapped heeseung on the back and grinned. “i love mac n’ cheese! dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself feel at home!”

wow, he was a lot less intimidating than heeseung remembered. he thought back to all those moments in high school and wondered if your dad was just pretending to be stoic. your dad guided him to the dinner table before entering the kitchen again. as he moved around, your mom leaned forward. “so, heeseung, when are you going to ask my daughter to marry you?”

you choked on your water, water spraying out of the side of your mouth. heeseung quickly offered you a napkin and patted you on the back. you wiped your mouth and glared at your mom. “mom, that is not one of the preapproved questions. actually, i explicitly said you and dad can’t bring up anything about marriage.”

your mom tsked and pouted. “honey, you’ve been dating for so long. it’s a natural question.”

before you could protest, your dad brought over the rack of lamb, fresh from the oven. he placed it in the center and took off his gloves, kissing the top of your head afterwards. “your mother is just excited to have a son-in-law that can cook. you talk about him all the time. sue her for being curious.”

you talked about him with your parents? you glared up at your dad. “we haven’t even talked about that yet. i wonder why? oh ya, because we’re still in college!”

your dad raised his arms in surrender. “hey, i asked your mom to marry me when we were 16.”

“to which i said no,” your mom playfully jabbed. “we were far too young.”

“we’re also too young,” you grumbled, leaning into heeseung’s side. he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. he hoped your parents didn’t look at him too closely. his blush was probably covering his whole face. he didn’t realize your parents were also high school sweethearts.

“you also rejected dad until you were in college, anyway,” you added, clasping your hand with heeseung’s. ah, so not high school sweethearts.

when your dad settled beside your mom, she patted him on the chest. “he wasn’t always the hunk you see now.”

“okay, that was gross. can we eat now?” you groaned. your dad started making a plate and handed it to your mom. heeseung should also probably do this for you. he pulled away from you and started making your plate, avoiding the deviled eggs and piling on the mac n’ cheese. when he placed it down in front of you, your dad raised his eyebrow. “you still avoiding deviled eggs?”

you brought your plate closer to you, waiting to eat until heeseung had his plate. you stuck your tongue out at your dad. “i don’t when hee makes them.”

your dad looked at heeseung with a surprised look. “you made her eat deviled eggs?”

“i just added miso and switched the regular mayo out for the japanese one,” heeseung sheepishly laughed. “she seemed to enjoy them.”

a boisterous laugh escaped your dad as he leaned his head back. when he caught his breath, he gave heeseung an approving nod. “good on you, man.”

the rest of the dinner went smoothly, and heeseung felt himself relaxing. your dad wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought. they easily bonded over cooking and how the women in their life shouldn’t have to lift their pretty little fingers if they didn’t want to. heeseung felt relieved. your dad seemed to like him, especially after you telling him how much heeseung takes care of you.

by the end of it, your dad was inviting him back over—without you. “you should come over and we can workshop a course menu for the girls.”

heeseung grinned, promising to come back soon. you said your goodbyes and drove home. on the drive, you kissed your intertwined hands. “thanks for doing that.”

heeseung shook his head. “it’s no problem. i’m glad i got to talk to your parents.”

“nothing to worry about, right? they really like you,” you teased. “they even want you to marry me so they can trap you forever.”

heeseung hummed. he’d gladly be “trapped” by your parents if it meant calling you his wife. should he go ring shopping? he didn’t have money for that right now. maybe once he gets his return offer. he could at least scroll on through websites.

“good thing i already do wanna marry you.”

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! you can now leave requests!

#enhypen #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: writes #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: headcanons #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: 𝓪𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 #anon 〠

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thevoidstaredback · 10 months ago

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It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

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keferon · 2 months ago

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TexAid continues to rot my brain I hope you don't mind I had an idea for Shockwave. Warning for mentioned super unethical experimentation.

====

Vortex didn’t remember the first day his dad had brought him to work. He’d been too young, young enough to have stars in his eyes about giant robots and a desire to be tested by the cool machines his dad worked on, according to what he’d been told. The standard idiot child.

Of course that had been where him being standard had ended.

But that meant he had grown up at the facility, that he knew it better than almost anyone else and knew everyone in it. Which was why he was currently keeping his cockpit shut tight even as First Aid kept hammering the button to open it.

Shockwave, the only pilot to ever make it to retirement was on the other side of his one way red glass visor staring like he could see through it. Maybe he could. Once upon a time he had been kind. Once upon a time he had actual eyes instead of the bionic yellow glow that shrunk and grew as he focused it.

His mech had had a fatal accident, one that should have killed him too. But Shockwave hadn’t been lucky enough to die, instead he had been a test subject, to see if machine and human could get just a little closer to being one.

Vortex had never liked any of his pilots enough to care but looking at Shockwave made him mentally promise First Aid that he would never let him live if he got heavily wounded in a fight. If Vortex was dying he’d take the other man with him as a mercy. Better that than this, having everything he was scooped out.

One metal hand came up to tap on his glass, like he was knocking on the door of a house. “Vortex let me meet him, I want to see why this one is special.”

First Aid stopped trying to open the visor and slunk back behind the pilot seat and if Vortex could relax he would have at having him less exposed. Vortex wondered if he should chew First Aid up a little? Make him less special? But it was too late.

The only consolation was that his reputation as a pilot killer protected First Aid, made him too valuable to let him be dragged down into Shockwave’s lab for tests that weren’t a guaranteed success.

Shockwave continued, “Wouldn’t you like to have a body again? The first mech to human full-translation. You're an ideal candidate for obvious reasons.” But of course that wasn’t what he really wanted. No Shockwave’s real project was human to mech translation, more than what had been done to him, on a grander scale than replacing most of a human with a machine. Shockwave was large, but he was still person sized.

Vortex had been smart enough to keep his existence at rumors and Shockwave couldn’t prove he was in here. He was trying to use First Aid to lure him out.

He felt First Aid’s hands tighten on the back of the seat, as if he was ready to fight being pulled away from it. But Vortex kept his cockpit closed and after a long time Shockwave sighed and turned away. “Well perhaps once you get bored of him, just leave him in usable pieces.”

Vortex watched him jump off the gangway and heard the sound of metal hitting the ground below him before easy footsteps. For a moment he was jealous of what Shockwave had, but not at that price. Even after he was gone it took a long moment before Vortex let his cockpit open. It took longer for First Aid to leave it.

OH DAMN…

YOU KNOW WHAT. As much as I love Senator Shockwave. The Idea of him being that creepy fucking scientist really fits here oh my god

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#tf mecha universe #ALSO VORTEX BEING PROTECTIVE OVER FIRST AID #YS PLEASE #WONDERFUL FJFNNFJFMVNV

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mills-73 · 4 months ago

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Don’t Stop

After 30 years in another dimension, Stanford is quite inexperienced in the women department, although he does know how to pleasure you quite well.

TAGS: 18+, smut; dude is touch-starved, do you see where this is going? mild humiliation (you tease him and he gets horny), p in v, cunningligous

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

You never knew Stan had a twin brother up until recently.

You came into work, seeing double, thinking you had some serious brain damage, before Stan explained the situation to you. His name was Stanford—which confused you until that was also explained—and he’d been trapped in another dimension for thirty years. Heaven knows that alone threw you for a loop.

Dimension? Portals? Total baloney. But hey, it’s Gravity Falls, so it’s 99% likely to be true. And with one look at Ford, you believed it instantly.

He truly looked like he was out of place here, like he spent so long somewhere else that he didn’t know how to fit in anymore. He was paranoid and definitely had a loose screw or something with the way he tore apart the Mystery Shack “just in case he’s here.” You had no idea who this “he” person could be, but you didn’t question it.

Stan finally, after months of being here and begging him to let you in on the secrets of the Mystery Shack, finally spilled the beans to you. You soaked up every word with a smile on your face.

When Ford actually noticed that you were in the room with them, he stopped dead in his tracks and just kind of stared at you, a small tint of coral flowing over the bridge of his nose. You could barely see it because of his glasses, but then his cheeks puffed a little and you knew he was embarrassed about what you just witnessed him doing.

You introduced yourself to him, attempting to shake his six-fingered hand. He politely refused. You and Stan shared a look of unease but otherwise left Ford alone for the time being.

You went about your day, Stan leading a group of tourists through the museum as you sat at the counter and observed Ford looking at every object in the room. If there was anything yellow or triangle shaped he threw it away despite your protests.

He seemed a little weird, you thought. Handsome as fuck, but weird. Especially when he’d just stare at you when he thought you weren’t looking, almost as if he didn’t think you were real. You didn’t think it was creepy or anything, but almost cute, maybe. He seemed so interested in you, squinting his eyes, tilting his head, even going as far as to come up to you and poke your shoulder. You only raised an eyebrow at him when he did that and he rushed out an apology and quickly left. You didn’t see him for a few days after that.

When you did, he carried a worn, brown leather journal in his hands. He sat in the gift shop with you and wrote in it for the rest of the day, giving you the occasional glance over his glasses.

You wanted to know what his deal was with you, but you couldn’t really outright ask him. He probably just felt weird being around people he didn’t really know all that well. Although, even if that was the case, why would he actively sit in a room with them? You decided not to think too much about it or your head was going to explode.

What you were really curious about was what he was writing. Stan had told you yesterday that he wrote three journals documenting the paranormal creatures and anomalies he’s found throughout his time in Gravity Falls. It sounded interesting enough, and you wanted to ask him about everything he knew. But he had just come back from being in another dimension, so you thought it’d be best to give him some space before you bombard him with question upon question.

For the remainder of the day, he didn’t talk to you. And he wouldn’t for a few weeks. But he was always keeping an eye out.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your interest is piqued at very best when it comes to the mind of Stanford Pines. Him and that damn journal he keeps on him at all times now has you tracking his every movement when he’s around, trying your damnedest to get a peek at what he’s writing. But whenever you get close enough he snaps it shut and immediately pretends he's finished with whatever he was doing.

Now you’re even more curious.

How can you make him leave that journal behind for just a few moments so you can take a peek inside? You figure he’s not stupid enough to leave it behind if he goes somewhere, so you ask Stan to swipe it for you while he’s sleeping.

“You owe me twenty bucks, kid.”

The next day, Stan slips you the journal, holding his hand out for the money you owe him. You sigh and slap it in his hand.

“Tell no one.”

You roll your eyes and sneak off to the roof to read it. You feel a little bad about invading his privacy like this, but you have to know what he’s writing about all the damn time. It’s like a plague that can only be cured by reading the journal's contents.

You open it to the first page and your lips part in a gasp.

There’s multiple doodles of what looks like you scattered around, your name repeated over and over and then crossed out. You flip the page. It’s a journal only dedicated to you, your behavior, drawings of your face. There’s one page in particular that looks as if Ford went on a deep dive off the dark end.

Ford seems fascinated with you. You trace the ink lines of his pen with your finger, your eyes flickering over each word. He mentions at one point that he doesn’t think you’re real, going as far as to say you’re a succubus sent to make him lose his mind. Which is a little far out, but it makes you laugh. A sex demon? Really?

The other things he says about you is a little…weird to say the least.

“Could this be another one of Bill’s tricks? Is he trying to control me by using her? I need to check her eyes.”

The phrase “look at her eyes” is repeated over and over again across countless pages. More drawings here and there and comments about how he can’t stop thinking about you. He expresses he understands what’s happening to him so he’s writing all of it down, watching you for the better part of his day just to see if he can figure you out.

It’s kind of cute.

You assume that because he’s been gone for so long he doesn’t know how to approach you to actually try and talk to you. Or maybe he just likes observing from a distance.

Whatever the case, you snap the journal closed and stare off into the forest.

You have an opportunity to tease him for the stuff you’ve found, but is that too cruel? He’d blush so beautifully if you ever told him what you found out.

You think for a minute.

It’s not that cruel.

With a smirk, you climb back down the latter to the gift shop, spotting Ford turning over everything in sight. You know what he’s looking for, so you just stand there and smile.

“Looking for this?” You wave the journal around, watching his back stiffen and his eyes widen.

“H-How did you get that?”

You shrug your shoulders, flipping it open. Ford rushes for you and snatches it out of your hands, holding it close to his chest. His face is pink and his eyes look fearful.

“Very interesting topics you chose to write about. Is that your latest research?” You tease, stepping closer to him.

Ford swallows thickly. “You—You weren’t supposed to see that. How did you even—?” He blush deepens, a hand reaching to scratch at the back of his neck.

You feign innocence and smile sweetly at him. “I’m very curious to know about this succubus. I thought they were just myth?” He looks around as if he’s hoping someone will come in and save him from his embarrassment. “It’s cute you thought I was one. I’m very honored you see me like that, Ford.”

“It’s not what it looks like! I promise,” he raises his voice. “

“Then what is it like, Ford? Hm?” You reach your hand out, running your fingers down the side of his face. You delight in his shiver. “Because it seems to me that you like me.”

Ford stutters over his words, his eyes flickering to your lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You shrug. “If you say so.”

You begin to walk around him, ending the conversation, but he grabs you by the arm and stops you, whispering a soft “Wait.”

Your eyes meet and you smile. “Yes?”

“What…What didn’t think of it?”

“Of the journal?” He nods. You smile. “It was interesting.”

He’s silent, looking at your lips as his tongue darts out and wets his own. You lean in, whispering against the shell of his ear. “Do you like me, Ford?”

His gulp is audible. “I’d say I’m…I’mintrigued by you.”

“Only intrigued?” Your fingers run down his arm to his hand, your thumb running over his knuckles. His intake of breath makes you smirk. “I think you’re a bit more than that, handsome.”

After a few moments he admits "I find you stimulating."

You giggle at him. You turn you head so your lips are inches apart, loving how he eyes your mouth with ferocious need. "How stimulating?"

Without a seconds thought, he crashes his lips against yours, dropping his journal to the ground so he can grip your hips in his hands. You gasp in surprise but simmer into the kiss.

He's a little sloppy with it but you don't mind all that much, kissing him back with enough fervor that has him moaning into your mouth.

Ford pushes you up against the wall of the Shack, whimpering breathlessly as he bites at your bottom lip. Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, your fingers deftly running over the ends of his hair. He moans and begins to pepper kisses down your jaw and to your neck.

"Ford," you moan, trying to get his attention. "Ford, wait. We can't do this here."

He murmurs something under his breath before dragging you by your hands to another room of the shack. It's his bedroom.

You look at him, noting the need planted all over his face. You never really thought of him like this before, but seeing him actually want you like a crazed mad-man has your heart stuttering in your chest.

Before you know it, he’s on you again, pushing you towards the bed and climbing on top of you. His hips rut against yours as he licks into your mouth, his hands slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. He seems so desperate for you, and you guess spending thirty years without someone to fuck time to time would have its effects on someone. Hell, you don’t even know if you could go thirty years without sex.

The feel of his fingers on your skin sends a jolt of fire to your core, your heart rate picking up as you realize how far he wants to go with this. His erection is pressing against your thigh, so unbelievably hard that you understand his neediness.

“Your skins so soft,” he whispers against your lips, giving you one last chaste peck before sitting up, admiring you from above. “Do you want to do this with me? Because I really…” he gazes down your body. “I swear you put a spell on me or something.”

You laugh at his remark, sitting up on your elbows. “I want this.”

At your consent, he kisses you again, his hands roaming over every inch your body. You arch into his touch, sighing into his mouth when his thumbs run across your nipples.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, a little unsure. He tweaks at each bud, a shiver in running down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathe. “It’s perfect, Ford.”

He slips your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving your bra. His lips trail down your neck to the top of your breasts, your fingerings burying themselves in his hair as he kisses each one. He pulls the pads of your bra down, the cool air making your nipples pepper in response.

Ford’s mouth latches on to your right tit, his tongue lapping around. A moan drags itself from the back of your throat, sitting up slightly to unclasp the fabric from your body. His other hand comes up to give attention to your other boob, pinching and tweaking at your nipple.

He praises your breasts with his mouth before moving downwards, quickly ridding your body of the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare and vulnerable for him.

“It’s—” he chuckles nervously. “—It’s been a while since I’ve done this, if I’m being honest.” He licks his lips and leans down between your thighs, kissing the skin tenderly. You shutter. “Let me know if I’m doing things right.”

You nod and he kisses you again, trailing up to the spot between your thighs, the stipple of his beard scratching you in ways that make you tremble.

Slowly, teasingly, he begins to lap at your folds, tasting your essence. He hums softly, seemingly lost in the sensation as the pleasure builds higher and higher. Your fingers find their way to his hair, pulling gingerly at the grey strands.

"Oh, fuck," you cry as he sucks at your clit. "You're doing so fucking good. Oh my god!"

At your praise, he seems to go harder, the vulgar sounds of your own wetness and his tongue echoing off the walls. You feel one of his fingers slip inside you, his tongue never stopping it's ministrations against you clit.

You cry out as he begins to finger you slowly. Pressure begins to form low in your gut, wrapping around the bottom of your spine. He adds another finger after a moment, scissoring them inside of you.

His other arm comes up to wrap around your hips, holding you in place as he curls his fingers, making you gasp. Your orgasm is fast approaching and you don't know if you can hold it off for too much longer.

Another nip to your clit and a particularly rough thrust inside, you shatter. Your thighs shake graciously as he helps you through your orgasm, quickly becoming almost overstimulating that you have to beg him to have mercy on you.

He smiles up at you from between your legs, his lips glistening with your slick. "Was that okay?"

Still breathless, you nod. "You did so good, handsome." His glasses are foggy and a little crooked and you reach out and fix them. "Did you want to do more?"

He groans. "Yes, please. I need more."

"Then take what you need, honey," you tease, spreading you leg further.

Ford is quick to remove his clothes, his cock hard and the tip an angry shade of red. "Don't laugh if I don't last very long," he murmurs, sliding back between your legs, dragging the tip along your folds.

You bite your lip at the feeling, bucking your hips to invite him to push inside. As he does, you gasp. He's not entirely huge, but he's thick, and he streaches you out perfectly.

He feels fucking amazing.

When he bottoms out, he falls over you, holding himself up by his arms. He shutters, his eyes closing as he looses himself inside of you. Ford pulls out, shallowing thrusting inside of you. You purr at the feeling, meeting his movements, soft moans slipping past your lips.

He picks up the speed, pulling out completely and slamming back inside of you, hitting your sweet spot just right, causing you to throw your head back in a silent scream.

Ford fucks you slow and hard, the sound of skin meeting skin and vulgar yet breathy moans filling the room. He whimpers above you, his cock twitching inside you.

"Fuck, Ford. You're fucking me so well," you cry, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please. Go faster."

"I-I don't think I can, darlin'," he gasps.

"Then let me ride you."

He groans at your words, slipping out of you after a few seconds. You flip the two of you over, settling on top. You guide the head of his cock inside, lowering yourself down until he fills you up perfectly.

Ford stares up at you, lips parted in awe. You start to grind down on him, moving your hips in a circular motion.

"Fuck," he whines, "you're amazing."

You start to bounce up and down, holding yourself up by your hands on his chest, your nails grazing over his skin. He flexs his hips upwards to meet your hips, not being able to hold his moans of pleasure back.

"Please," he begs. "Don't stop."

You weren't planning on it, riding him like your life depends on it. The stimulation to your clit and the tip of his cock hitting you just right has you falling over the edge not even a minute later, your legs spasming as a second orgasm washes over you.

His own moans become more strained and whiney, and you know he's close as he begins to pump inside of you, matching your rhythm.

"Cum for me, Ford," You say, breathless and desperate for him to fill you up.

He throws his head back, mouth drooped open as his hands come up to your hips. He grips them roughly, fucking up into you roughly, making you scream out in pleasure. He's whimpering and groaning and you feel him spill inside of you seconds later, fucking you through his orgasm.

Your breaths fill the air around, your body slumping onto of his.

"You were great," you mumble into his neck.

You feel him turn away, hiding his face into his shoulder. "I, uh...t-thanks."

You giggle. "Don't be getting all shy on me now."

Slowly, you roll off of him, Ford hissing at the stimulation. He pushes his foggy glasses up on his face, not daring to meet your eyes.

"Was it okay?" he mumbles. "It's been a little while and--"

"It was more than okay, Ford." You smile. "I hope we can do it more often."

He looks over at you, a blush on his cheeks. "I'd...I'd be okay with that."

You smirk, giving him a kiss. "Good."

ARTWORK BY @pumafysketch

ty for reading! i honestly hate this but it's wtv. i’ll probably write more but anyway

tags: @loslox @emgrth

#fanfic #smut #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #this could be better

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

Note

I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-

I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)

(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)

bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake

Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon

Oh I can definitely work with this ^^

......

When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.

"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.

Easy as pizza pie, right?

Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.

Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.

So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.

Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.

"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.

Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.

Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"

But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.

You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.

On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.

While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.

Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.

Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.

The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.

But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.

Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.

He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!

Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.

So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.

When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.

He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.

But as it turns out, you love your job!

You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.

And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).

Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.

Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.

Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.

But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.

Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.

Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.

"Was he just laughing at us...?"

"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."

Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.

#clanask #phone coffee anon #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie spoilers #platonic #teen reader #mike schmidt #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #headcanons

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revelboo · 9 days ago

Note

What's your favorite song title?Also can you update Sunny and Side's storyline?

Sure! And depends on the band and the mood I'm in, I guess. Favorite by I Fight Dragons is Save World Get Girl or The Devil You Know, by Ludo it's Scare Me or Overdone, for The Matches it's Clumsy Heart or Little Maggots, for Motion City Soundtrack it's Better Open the Door or Give Up/Give In.

I got him, a RED TFP Optimus and a RED G1 Thundercracker off Mercari for a bit over $30 total. Guessing maybe someone selling off an Ex’s collectibles

Sunstreaker added

Can't Finish What You Started Pt 11

Sunstreaker x Reader, Sideswipe x Reader

• There's a new tension between the three of you, almost a physical weight dragging at you, making you more aware of the twins. Keep catching Sunstreaker watching you when you're sketching, sometimes drifting over to sit at the desk, chin on a fist. Staring at you as you draw until you can feel his optics on you. Like right now. “Do you want to draw, too?” Because the silence is starting to get creepy.

• “No.” Venting as you scrunch your little nose at him before returning to your sketching, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the Decepticons taking humans. Or how much you need his protection. You can’t even defend yourself can you? Can’t fight. No natural defenses unless he counts screaming at unpleasant decibels. Tapping a servo against his chin, he reaches with his other hand to pull a sketch you’d abandoned his way to look at.

• “Is there something you do want to do?” You ask with a sigh, because you don’t know what to do with melancholy Sunny. Prefer him standoffish and sure of himself and a tiny bit egotistical. Eyeing his glossy yellow paint, you sit up. “I know you’ve got a polishing cloth hidden on you somewhere,” you say and he frowns until you point at his arm. “Smudge.” And he magically, or at least it is to you despite his attempts to explain subspace storage, produces a rag, hesitating when you hold out both hands. It’s as big as your blankets when he hands it over and you suspect your blankets are just old cleaning cloths. But they’re warm, so you’re not complaining.

• “If I was your size, I wouldn’t be so bossy,” he mutters when you imperiously wave at him to lean his arms on the desk. And then you’re leaning your almost nonexistent weight into rubbing the cloth on his arm in little circles. Surprised at how relaxing it is, almost being lulled by it as he shutters his optics. Has anyone ever taken care of him like this before? He’s always the one worrying over everyone else, taking care of himself. But this is nice.

• You almost don’t notice the rumbling at first and it takes a minute to realize it’s Sunny doing the alien robot equivalent of purring if you had to guess. Biting into the inside of your cheek as you polish the smudges away and listen to the rhythmic, rumbling sound, you study his face. He’s different when he’s but frowning about something, younger somehow. When Sideswipe returns, you shoot him a warning look. For all the good it does. Sighing when Sides flicks his twin in the back of the helm and Sunny almost knocks his chair over lunging to his feet with a growl.

• Grinning and evading Sunny, he glances at you and that’s all it takes for Sunny to get him in a headlock. Struggling as you fold your little arms and watch. Unbothered by their sparring. “How come you’re polishing him?” He pouts, trying to get loose as Sunny growls at him and gives him a shove. “Because your paint is a lost cause just like you,” Sunstreaker says, without any real heat. And as you roll your eyes at both of them, Sideswipe can’t help but grin. Because Sunny had let you help him instead of insisting he could do it himself like he always does. Accepting help from you.

#transformers x reader #sunstreaker x reader #sideswipe x reader #sunstreaker #sideswipe

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pinkpinkmermayyy · 2 months ago

Text

Part 1 of the Transformers One Tangled AU!

thank you so much @sassycandypoetry for helping me with the different parts and concepts of the tangled au, so here's part 1! Part 2 might have more time until it comes out due to school but I hope ya'll enjoy this first part!

tw for this part: childbirth, kidnapping

Also here's some vocabulary I might need to clarify for those who aren't that informed on cybertronian terms:

Groon: an hour

Cycle: a year

Jour: a month

Helm: head

Servo: hand

Digit: finger

Also, when the text is in italics, Starscream is narrating

let me know if I missed anything else!

taglist: @punkeropercyjackson @aishabellasbigblogofeverything @akifandragon

(also let me know if you want to be on the taglist or if you want to be removed!)

---

This… is the story of how I died…

No no, don’t worry, this is a pretty fun story, especially when you compare it to my previous missions, but the truth is, it’s not even mine. This is the story of a mech named Bee.

And it all starts with the Earth’s sun.

A long time ago, cycles before the fall of the Primes, it was discovered that a single drop of sunlight had fallen from the Earth’s atmosphere and onto the organic planet. From that drop of sunlight grew a magical, golden flower. It had the power to heal the sick and injured, and upon the discovery of this powerful resource, the Primes sought to protect it and make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong servos.

Alpha Trion in particular was responsible for this flower. Flowers, in general, have never been a part of Cybertron’s ecosystem, so he’d come up with the plan to create a secret room as a part of the Prime’s headquarters where oxygen was always present, and a device was placed right above the flower that acted as a sun for it to receive the proper nutrients alongside the H2O that Alpha Trion fed it. The flower was protected, and it never fell into the wrong servos.

That was until Sentinel betrayed the Primes and allied with the Quintessons. After killing the Primes, he immediately took the flower along with the sun device and kept it to himself, using it selfishly to stay young and healthy forever. And all he had to do was recite a simple incantation.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” Sentinel sang, sitting on one knee as his hands orbited around the plant, glowing a bright yellow-golden. “make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.”

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…” He felt his scratches and injuries heal along with any signs of rusting smooth over, a cool tingling sensation on his frame, and he smiled in satisfaction.

You get the gist, he sings and suddenly he’s all new, creepy right?

Sentinel was able to keep this plant a secret and away from the public eye, but that all changed when a certain miner couple were in dire need of a cure, and heard of the flower and its properties.

D-16 kneeled near his and Orion’s shared berth, holding on to Orion’s servo. His lover looked over to the grey miner weakly, barely managing to smile, as if still trying to bring his spirits up despite his condition. D-16 smiled back to reassure Orion knowing fully it was false, and affectionately kissed the back of Orion’s servo.

It started 6 jours into Orion’s carrying period, with a weak cough and warm face plate. Then it was a nasal voice and watery eyes, a sneeze here and there. The miners just thought it was a case of short circuits and insulation damage due to the freezing temperatures of the mines, and even the sick weren’t allowed to leave their shifts. But then one day, while digging for more energon, Orion had collapsed, leaving D-16 in a terrible panic as he frantically carried him back into their small shared room. Of course, Darkwing had ordered them back but D-16 ignored it, leaving the larger authority figure to mutter about how “miners shouldn’t be getting carelessly knocked up.”

Now it was 8 jours into Orion carrying his and D-16’s sparkling, and there was no sign of him getting better. When one of the medics assigned to the miners grimly told D-16 that Orion and the sparkling would die and that there was no cure for his condition, he collapsed into a puddle of tears. He never told Orion this; he didn’t want to burden his lover even more, and he couldn’t even look Orion in the eye to avoid crying again.

He coped by working endlessly, mining even when their shifts were over. The other miners noticed but didn’t dare to speak to him, worried they might provoke him to snap. Elita-1 was the first to break this silence, bearing more than sympathy and “sorry”s for D-16.

“What is it?” D-16 asked, his gaze lowered as the pink bot walked over to him. It was late at night, and most other miners were taking advantage of the time they got to rest, but D-16 mindlessly swept the floors to keep him busy. She gave him a pitying look before continuing, something D-16 didn’t appreciate. Elita got straight to the point.

“I think there’s something that could save Orion and your sparkling.”

D-16 scoffed, not looking up. “Last I heard the medic said he was going to die and I just have to deal with it,” he said in a cynical tone.

“I’m serious, D-16. if you want to at least try to save your conjux, follow me.”

D-16 looked up to see Elita walking away, and he begrudgingly followed her, catching up to her quickly. “Where are we even going?”

She ignored him, leading him into the archives, going deeper and deeper through the aisles of Cybertronian knowledge. She only stopped until she had reached the edge of the room, something D-16 didn’t even think existed due to how vast the Archives seemed.

These shelves were much less pristine and shiny than the shelves at the front of the Archives room, and the books were tattered and nearly falling from their spines. Elita carefully picked up a light green book in a similar condition, and the author that was listed on the bottom of the cover was scratched out ominously. Elita slowly flipped the pages to the one she desired, which featured a hazy illustration of what seemed to be a plant with yellowish petals. D-16 had never seen anything like it.

“I was afraid that they would find this book and censor it but it’s still here, and this,” she said, pointing to the illustration, “may just help you.”

She squinted her optics to whisper out the blurry text. “‘During the 15th and 16th centuries on Earth,’ which is about 10 stellar cycles before the fall of the Primes,” Elita added for D-16’s information before continuing, “‘a drop of sunlight from Earth’s sun fell onto the planet’s soil, and a golden flower grew from it. It is said that the flower could heal all illnesses and injuries, make both bots and humans younger and even reverse death, and the Primes preserved that flower before Sentinel Prime took on the task of protecting it after their demise.’”

“Sentinel Prime?” D-16 said in disbelief. “B-but, how have I not heard of this before?”

“The book was probably banned after traveling to other planets became illegal. The author was either imprisoned or even executed due to this,” Elita said matter-of-factly.

D-16 stood up, brows furrowed. Why would he keep such a life-changing resource away from everyone? This could help millions! It might even help…

D-16 realized why Elita brought him here. “But how? How the hell would a miner like me be able to get a plant that is probably highly guarded? And steal from Sentinel of all bots?”

“Just think about this D-16, would Orion do it for you if the roles were switched?”

D-16 paused, pondering over it.

If he had been the one to get sick instead of Orion, and there was a chance to save him even in the most dangerous possible mission, Orion would have done it. He’d risk losing his life and a limb or two just to save D-16 because he loved him way more than any God, even someone like Sentinel. D-16 slowly nodded in defeat.

“I don’t know about how to use the flower,” Elita started. She smiled, facing D-16 and putting a palm on his shoulder plate. “But the book never said you had to retrieve it alone.”

—

D-16 and Elita ran for as long as they could, not even realizing the rest of Sentinel’s guards had lost them amidst all the panic and chaos. D-16 panted heavily, careful to not drop the flower and blow his whole operation. Their masks made it hard for them to see, the cutouts for their eyes barely giving them sight.

When they finally reached the entrance to D-16 and Orion’s small home, the grey miner looked back at Elita-1 with pure gratitude in his optics.

“Thank you, really. I didn’t think you cared that much about saving Orion.”

Elita-1 smiled back warmly, despite how panic-stricken she had been just a few moments ago. “I know I seem like I only care about my job and being promoted, but I care, truly I do.”

She then playfully hit D-16’s shoulder plate “But that’s the last time I’m doing something like that, so tell Orion NOT to try to die on us again once he gets better.”

D-16 chuckled. “Sure thing Elita.” She then descended from the premises, as D-16 unlocked the door within the mine shaft’s walls and closed it behind him as he entered.

He felt his spark ache when he saw Orion on the berth, tears streaking his cheeks as he tried to sit up, to no avail. D-16 remembered that Ratchet told him that the illness would become extremely painful for the sick bot in their processor, abdomen area, and hinges, and that was what happened now. D-16 felt awful for leaving his lover here alone for groons, but he knew Orion’s health would become better now with the mysterious plant.

D-16 placed the flower on the table next to the berth, hastily grabbing a spare bottle of liquid energon he had saved and an empty bowl. He poured the energon into the bowl, flinching when a couple of drops spilled. He then set aside the now empty bottle and held the flower slowly, his servos shaking. He didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to use it and didn’t want to accidentally kill the flower, so he submerged it into the bowl as slowly as any bot could move.

To his amazement, the flower started glowing, the golden color from it dissolving into the energon and changing from a vibrant blue to a golden yellow.

D-16 sighed, walking over to Orion with the bowl full of golden energon.

He looked to see if Orion was still awake. He was, and he was looking right at D-16, his eyes filled with pain. D-16 spoke softly.

“Orion, this is going to make you feel better. All you need to do is let me feed you, m’kay?”

Orion nodded, too exhausted to speak, and D-16 kneeled in front of the red-and-blue mech. He reached his servos towards Orion’s open dermas, who consumed the drink until the bowl was empty, the petals now dry grey husks.

D-16 just prayed that Orion’s illness would be gone by morning, as his lover finally fell asleep after hours of excruciating pain. The grey mech lay beside his sleeping partner, and he gave him a small peck on his cheek plate before succumbing to exhaustion as well.

—

It was nearing daytime, and Sentinel strode through the golden halls before any other bots in the building woke up. He held onto his arm and winced slightly in disgust, noticing the rust that had grown on it.

He of course kept it a secret, but before he betrayed the Primes and took away the flower, he had caught a disease known as Cosmic Rust, where the victim’s body would slowly rust away into nothing. It also made the bot age much quicker than others and could even make it possible for bots to die of old age. There was still no cure for it, so he resigned himself to using the flower’s ability to heal all ailments to subdue it before it returned weeks later as a painful reminder of his curse.

This was the cycle Sentinel had been living by for decades now, but when he reached the room where the flower was kept, the guards were knocked out, the door was wide open, and the flower was gone.

—

The first thing D-16 noticed when he went online was that Orion was absent from his side of the berth, making the grey mech immediately jump to his pedes. He rushed out the door, only to find Orion happily laughing alongside Elita-1 and other miners, walking around and standing on his pedes with no struggle whatsoever. The palm of his servo held his large abdomen as he chatted with the other miners before noticing D-16 walking outside their shared home.

Orion looked over to the shocked D-16, his radiant blue eyes shinier than ever, and gave him a large smile as he waved.

“Mornin’ D!” His voice was bright and loud like it had always been before, and D-16 felt a huge wave of relief and gratefulness wash over him.

He ran over to Orion and gave him a large hug, managing to be gentle on Orion’s belly before lifting him and spinning him around, placing him down on the floor after a moment. Orion laughed more before D-16 gazed warmly into Orion’s eyes and kissed his dermas passionately. His optics were shut tight, and Orion closed his as he leaned into the kiss before they both pulled away.

—

The days after that were blissful after months of stress and devastation for D-16. Because Orion was now 8 and a half jours into his carrying period, he was dismissed from work until after the sparkling was delivered (to the higher-ups' dismay), relieving D-16 of any more worries about how Orion would fare in his state while mining. The only downside was that Darkwing handed him exceedingly dangerous and strenuous work due to his frustration, but it didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

That was, until when the sparkling was about to be born. D-16 had dropped everything and ran straight out of the cave, racing towards his home and staying right by Orion’s side as he groaned and hissed out in pain, squeezing his servo in his as he felt a sense of dreadful déjà vu creep up on him upon seeing his conjux’s frame. Other miners crowded out the door but D-16 only allowed Elita-1 and a medic she had hastily called, while everyone else remained curious about the whole situation.

After groons of tension and spiraling intrusive thoughts that invaded D-16’s mind as he stayed by Orion’s side, the sparkling was delivered. While the medic held the fragile and wailing sparkling in her servos, D-16 caressed Orion’s face plate, thanking Primus that Orion was safe and okay. The medic told the couple that she’d clean the sparkling up and return him to them after a groon and a half, and she left, leaving D-16 and Elita-1 to tend to Orion.

—

Sentinel Prime rarely saw to the birth of new sparklings that were sired and carried by miners, but this one, in particular, was very peculiar. Nothing about him was alarming regarding his health, in fact, he seemed much brighter than normal sparklings. His optics were a radiant blue, similar to his carrier’s, and his armor was a beautiful golden yellow. He didn’t cry excessively like other sparklings, instead giggling and smiling almost all the time, a trait that would’ve been annoying on a grown mech or fem but was very endearing on the sparkling.

Sentinel entered the room, prompting the medics to address him formally, not noticing the growing rust on his arm plate that he covered with his other servo. He glanced at the smiling sparkling, who looked up at the blue and gold bot with big doe eyes. The golden color of the sparkling instantly caught Sentinel’s eye, and if it weren’t for his slightly panicked state from the night before he would have complimented it. He offered to proceed with the procedure that only miner sparklings had to go through shortly after birth, which the medics agreed to.

They seemed surprised that Sentinel would concern himself with such a mild task, but they also spoke amongst themselves about how that makes him more honorable in their eyes, caring for sparklings from lower classes.

Sentinel smirked while hearing their conversation two rooms away from him as he quickly but painstakingly plucked the t-cog from the sparkling’s chest before returning the sparkling back to the medics, allowing him to go on with the rest of his day.

But now it couldn’t seem to leave his processor. That golden color looked so familiar, so strangely recognizable and he was drawn to it. He held the t-cog that he took from the sparkling, debating whether he should throw it away like he did all the others now, wondering why he felt that this sparkling was so important, so significant. It was when he looked back on the empty room that once contained his flower, it clicked for him.

No, it couldn’t be…

But it made sense. Two seemingly cogless bots stole the magic flower from the tower, and anyone could connect that to Orion’s miraculous recovery. He supposed that one of those bots was D-16, while the other bot was unknown. He debated punishing the grey miner with execution or imprisonment, but knowing that the sparkling might have the same healing powers as the plant, a different idea sprung to mind.

Conveniently, Airachnid walked in at that moment, cringing at the larger wound of rust on Sentinel’s arm.

“Sir, your arm-”

“I know Airachnid, I know,” Sentinel responded in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose plate with his digits. He then rested his chin on his servo, optics looking down in thought.

“Airachnid,” he began, looking up at her. “You know of that new sparkling that was just born today? The sparkling of Orion Pax and D-16?”

“No sir, but what would you like me to do?”

“I think that the sparkling has the same powers as the golden flower, and I want you to check if that’s true. If not, leave him, and I’ll jail D-16 for thievery and treason.” Aiarchnid nodded, taking in the orders precisely.

“But if the sparkling has those powers, bring him to me. That’ll be punishment enough for the thief, losing a sparkling. Besides, no miners could ever properly take care of a sparkling, especially one so valuable.” He added with a chuckle.

All Sentinel knew was that D-16 would pay for stealing his precious flower, no matter what.

—

“What should his name be Orion?” D-16 asked, cradling the sparkling in his arms. Orion thought for a moment and then smiled mischievously.

“How about D-Pax?”

D-16 furrowed his brows in thought and smiled softly. “You know, that sounds pretty good. That could actually work!”

Orion started giggling, to D-16’s confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, but you haven’t heard the name before?”

D-16 raised his brow. “No?”

Orion smirked, leaning into D-16’s touch. “It’s our ship name.”

D-16 widened his eyes and laughed, putting his arm around Orion while securing the sparkling in the other. “Really?”

“Yeah! Darkwing actually came up with it to taunt us but it caught on, and now he hates it.” He chuckled, kissing his conjux’s cheek before resting his helm on D-16’s shoulder plate. “So you wanna name him that?”

D-16 looked at his sparkling fondly, now sleeping soundly in his arm. “Yeah, I do.”

I’ll give you a hint: that’s Bee.

At that moment, everything was perfect. You’d think that this was the end of the story, that everything just stayed fine, right?

But then that moment ended.

It was night now. D-16 and Orion shortly fell into a deep sleep in each other’s arms, D-16’s servo cradling the back of Orion’s helm. Their sparkling fell asleep in his small makeshift crib, occasionally mumbling incoherent babbles in his sleep, while the light of Luna 1 and Luna 2 shone on the sleeping sparkling.

But suddenly, the moonlight was replaced by a spider-like shadow that cast over the golden sparkling.

Airachnid bent over, one of her servos lightly touching the side of the sparkling while she started singing the incantation.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine…”

The sparkling’s armor started to glow, and what appeared to be tiny swirls and flower-shaped designs that looked embroidered onto the sparkling appeared as well despite not being present before. Airachnid smiled in satisfaction before she heard Orion stirring and in horror, saw his optics open.

She quickly grabbed the sparkling, jerking him awake, making him start crying for the first time in his life as Airachnid carried him close to her chassis to try to muffle his sobbing.

Orion jumped out of his berth while D-16, now awake, gasped in terror while chasing after Orion, who ran as fast as his pedes could go after the kidnapper.

But it was all in vain. When Orion reached for the door leading outside the mine shaft, the bot was long gone, his baby with them.

Under Sentinel’s orders, she broke in, stole the sparkling, and just like that; gone!

Devastated, Orion, D-16, and the rest of the miners had searched for the sparkling. They also filed a report for the kidnapping, in which Sentinel Prime publicly declared he would be determined to search for the precious sparkling, but of course that was a lie.

The miners dubbed him the “Lost Sparkling”, and even those who weren’t well acquainted with D-16 and Orion mourned the loss, as being able to even have a sparkling as a miner was rare due to so many complications they could face and how hard it was to raise one in those conditions.

Meanwhile, deep in Sub-Level 50, Sentinel decided to raise the sparkling as his own.

The sparkling (named B-127 by Sentinel) , now 6 cycles old, sat on Sentinel Prime’s lap, his frame much smaller in comparison to the false prime’s. He had his optics closed as he recited the same song Airachnid did 6 cycles before.

“Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…”

Sentinel felt the rust disappearing off his body and grinned, sighing in relief as the glow faded from the sparkling’s frame. He opened his wide blue optics and looked up at Sentinel.

“Why can’t I go outside?” he asked innocently as Sentinel still held Bee’s small servo on his own. Sentinel’s smile was replaced with a frown and he sighed, stroking bee’s helm.

“When you were born, the Quintessons and thousands of other bots alike knew of your power and tried kidnapping you, intent on enslaving you. But I was able to stop them. The world outside has become a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where it’s safe. Do you understand, my flower?”

B-127 looked down, his miniscule antennae lowering. “Yes papa.”

Despite Bee being a beacon of light he was shrouded in darkness by Sentinel, but one day, that was all going to change.

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brights-place · 2 months ago

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Can

Can u maybe do Sonic exe x reader please? 🥺

[Creepypastas] Sonic EXE x Reader Warnings: Gore, Cursing

A/N: Never in my life have I thought that someone would request sonic exe... BUT HEY WHATEVER YOU LIKE LETS GO the gender is not specified

Summary: Just headcannons of Sonic EXE the creepypasta which I never have thought I would do with an x reader character thats abit creepy

- There was many differences between you two in body and personalities mostly with him being a mass murderer plus the fact he's an anthropomorphic video game hedgehog and you're well a a human - He's a cursed item and a short one too - Short king who cares for his partner and would kill for her or kill her when he gets bored lucky enough he hasn't gotten bored of you he enjoys playing and toying with you - Sonic EXE can say some disturbing ass shit that will frighten or startle you or will say the most gruesome things about his recent victims out of nowhere but if he feels like he’s gone too far he will apologize to you but don’t expect him to do that for anyone else - When he first did that was when you were making him some chili dogs and he stared at the chili - "You know that reminds me of when I gutted this weird ass girl who were trying to get to me but i gutted her because she would always fail the levels ugh I should taken out her eyes too would of been fun to-" and here cues your horrified face staring at him - When he's running he enjoys you boosting his ego - He’s never encountered a human that had the nerve to challenge him actually he has but they all were too cocky but you? being aware of your flaws and using it to your advantage made him entertained - This hedgehog cannot die so every time you get so angered in a whole another level he watches as you lash out and for some reason he enjoys every time where you lash out on him - he loves suggesting for you to snap his neck or kill him a horrifying way that he loves to describe as you always say you'd never kill him - He comes back bloodied and would have you wipe away the blood dripping down his red irises and voidless eyes - you both had made a schedule for when he can come to the real world so you both can hangout and pamper each other or when he does his little sprees to kill victims - When he's in his little game hes always watching, making sure your okay you're happy, if there’s any sign you’re unhappy with a person they make you uncomfy they are dealt with personally - His god complex is high so is his ego you boost it for him a lot - Enjoys bringing back little items from his world to you though he enjoyed the face you made when he gave you a fluffy tail keychain that was quite big the yellow fur and white was beautiful - But when you noticed the dripping at the end where the keychain clip was pierced you pause staring at the tails cute fox videogame character missing one of his tails.. - He enjoyed pampering you he calls himself god he calls you his spouse - kisses are kind of hard to do due to his sharp teeth but hey it works for you both - Love language 100% would be gift giving and words of affirmation or 50/50 he's hard to understand - He does pull strings behind the scenes to keep you safe and make sure you are treated like the royalty you are - Even if he gets his hands dirty I mean he already has them bloodied with the past so whats wrong with another person who messed with you to be his next victim

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

#Creepypasta #x reader #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic exe #sonic the hedgehog exe x reader #sonic exe x reader #headcannons #sonic the hedghog fandom #Exe #creepypasta #creepypasta sonic exe

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sweetiecutie · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: dark! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, gaslighting, drugging, kidnapping. This is only fiction! Never tolerate creepy behavior

A/n: so this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I decided to finish it as a part of writing event. I’m so proud of this one, like omg, look at me being a writer😆

Your head hurt. That was the first thing you registered as you started to slowly regain consciousness. Your face scrunched up in a grimace of pain as you let out a soft groan, your throat sore, only increasing your discomfort.

You tried to raise your hands to rub on your eyes in attempt to soothe the stinginess - point word - tried. You very soon found that your movements had been restricted by something that felt very much like rope. And not only your hands - your legs were bound tightly together at your knees and ankles, not allowing you to move.

- You’re awake now? - soft voice droned on, making you tense up impossibly more. The most terrifying thing was that you knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

You squinted into direction from which the sound came, your vision still blurry and hazy from the drug. Thankfully, the room was dark, small lamp on the bedside table was the only source of soft yellow light. You could only perceive a bulky figure sitting on a chair not too far from you, piercing blue eyes gazed at you unblinking.

- König..? What’s going on? - you asked, your voice was hoarse and weak from long lack of usage.

Suddenly, memories flashed before your eyes; it was late evening - about 11 pm - as you were walking towards convenience store not so far from your apartment.

You had been in a state of constant desolation lately - days were bleak and boring, blurring into one with their unchanging routine, sending you in deeper state of depression.

Breakup with your boyfriend took a toll on you. You loved König, you really did. Considered spending your life with him, even. But the longer your relationship lasted, the more of real him you saw - controlling, obsessive, manipulative.

It all started out small - constant checking in, questions about your whereabouts and your company, him following accompanying you wherever possible. Surely, it restricted your freedom, but König didn’t mean anything bad! He was just worried for you, concerned about your safety! Is that so bad?

So you let it slip. You overlooked his more controlling tendencies, agreed to giving him passwords to all your social media even, so König could make sure that “no freaks were texting you”. It unnerved you, but he didn’t mean anything bad, did he? He was just being a good caring boyfriend!

And it was like an avalanche. Constant calls and messages, controlling what you were wearing, unwillingness to leave you alone even for a few minutes - that and many other things made a list of what your boyfriend did, only adding to your anxiety. But you tolerated it all, because you loved him. Once, digging through your phone you found something that looked very much like a tracking app. You were outraged. But when you asked König about it - rather aggressively - he just blinked at you with wide innocent blue eyes, saying that maybe you installed it on accident? You know all these bots nowadays, you can never be safe online now. But you know that he would never do something like that, right? How could you even think of something like that?! König was genuinely offended, and you naturally hastened to apologize for your unwise accusations, trying to make it up to him. Deleting this app seemed to be impossible, though, no matter how many times you tried.

Last drop was, however, when König nearly blew out your best friend’s front door, threatening them to keep away from you. “This bitch is putting some fucked up ideas about me into your head” - was his reasoning. And that was it - hell was set free. You had an ugly shouting marathon for hours to no end, with lots of tears and profanities, ending up with a harsh breakup and you blocking König everywhere, cutting him off completely.

And since then you haven’t spoken a word to him. Of course, he came to your apartment countless times, sent numerous gifts and bouquets of your favorite flowers, practically begging for forgiveness. But you knew better than that - it happened before, and even if you forgave him this time, in a few months time everything would be just as it was before.

At present, you were walking down a sidewalk, asphalt damp under your shoes from recent rain. You needed to get some groceries, since your fridge was just as empty as your stomach; and this late of an hour promised as little people around as possible, saving you from unfavorable company of men.

Just as you rounded a corner - a pair of huge strong arms - obviously male - seized your sensibly smaller body; a weird-smelling cloth was pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. In your panicked state you tried to fight back, not registering your own breathing, inhaling lungfuls of drug. Darkness filled your vision rapidly as dizziness overcame all your senses. You felt consciousness quickly slipping away from you, neon lights of convenience store shone brightly before your eyes still.

Panic seized your throat and it was becoming harder to breathe - you tugged and pulled on rough ropes around your limbs, trying to either snap them or slip out of tight confines, thrashing around the mattress relentlessly. König didn’t do anything, just watched you silently with his icy orbs from his spot, not exactly amused nor impressed by your behavior. Very soon fatigue took over your already exhausted body, you lay motionless once again, panting heavily as you glared at König’s dark form, vision still unfocused from the drug.

- Drop that. I made sure knots are tight, - he said coldly, continuing to observe you with a sharp stare of a hawk.

You just glared silently, trying to catch your breath. Your body felt heavy - extremely so, as if every limb was made out of lead and not flesh and bone; moving as much as one finger seemed harder than anything and you wondered how you managed to thrash around in the first place. Your head was aching irritably, not allowing you to think clearly - it had to be the side effect of whatever that was König made you inhale previously.

- König, do you realize what you did? - you managed to choke out, panic crashing over you in waves as realization of your current situation finally hit you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you tried to breathe evenly, but it did little to calm you down.

König just leaned in, cupping the side of your face with one of his huge hands, his thumb swiped under your eye, wiping salty tears away with calloused fingertip. You closed your eyes, averting your face from his touch. And oh, he didn’t like it.

König gripped bottom part of your face, force of his grip squeezed your cheeks together as he turned your head forcibly towards himself, making you squeal quietly as you faced him.

- You tried to leave me. And you are very dear to me. I can’t let this happen, - König explained, his voice calm, alarmingly calm. His scarred lips were pressed into a thin pale line, giving a little clue of his rage.

It was another side of him, completely different from what you used to see - a calm, ruthless and collected one; one that you could only imagine, based off some rumors you’ve heard about him and small cracks in his friendly mask König was too careless to hide from you during your relationship. You got glimpses of it a few times - when some drunk dude tried to hit on you when you and König were in the bar together, or when you mentioned how nice one of your male coworkers was. You always made one brutal mistake of brushing it all off, blaming it on König’s tiredness or fierce personality. And that’s where it led you.

- So what are you gonna do now? Keep me here forever? - you tried to scoff, but your trembling voice was way too weak to do so.

König cocked his eyebrow at your brave words, ghost of a smile played on his pursed lips. He shrugged lightly, grip of his fingers on your cheeks eased as he caressed them endearingly with rough fingertips, tickling you slightly.

- If that’s what it takes to keep you with me - then yes, - he shrugged slightly, propping his chin on his free hand, not a single emotion could be deciphered in his voice. These words made your blood turn cold.

He heaved a deep sigh at your frightened expression and trembling body, letting go of your face and reclining into his chair.

- Schatzi, you know I hate this just as much as you do. You think I’m enjoying this? - he asked, his tone was somehow sad and exhausted. But yes, you indeed thought, knew he enjoyed this. You kept silent, choking on your silent sobs, now being extremely aware of thick ropes digging painfully into your soft skin. Panic attack was full on taking over you, suffocating you with numerous sobs, body tensing and shaking incessantly, tears blurring your thus poor vision.

- Now, this all may end if you stop being a little bitch and start acting like an actual adult. We didn’t finish our conversation that last time, and you blocking me everywhere doesn’t make things any easier, - König said, his ice-blue eyes boring holes in your head. But you couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind his words, your brain short-circuited with fear and panic, turning you into a weeping shaking mess.

König heaved another sigh. He got up from his chair, taking a few steps towards your bed and dropping to his knees in front of it, so that his head was right against yours. His hand once again came to caress the side of your face affectionately, tangling into your messy hair and massaging your scalp, cooing soothingly at you.

- I know baby, I know. You need to rest. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. And then, once you’re strong and rested, we’ll talk again. And we’ll sort everything out and be happy again, just like we used to be, hmm? - König murmured softly as he always did to calm you down during hard times. But it only made you weep harder.

König pressed his lips against your cold forehead, leaving a chaste kiss as he inhaled lungfuls of your scent. He then nuzzled his forehead against yours, mumbling quietly:

- You can’t imagine how much I missed you. How could you do this to me? Hurt me so much even though I only want the best for you?

He peppered your face with small kisses, whispering small nothings and caressing your shuddering back. This made you feel nauseous. Your consciousness started to slip away again, your vision darkening rapidly. And just before blacking out, you heard König’s voice, one you loved so dearly once, utter:

- You’re mine, always will be. I’ll make sure of that.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

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anonsturniolo · 4 months ago

Text

spider-man — chris sturniolo

paring — spiderman!chris x f!reader

genre — fluff, golden retriever energy, Chris being hurt, solved angst

word count — 1.5k

He was late, and by 3 whole hours. You had saw on the news about the giant lizard that had wrecked the Williamsburg Bridge, but you had turned it off. You couldn't stomach watching how your boyfriend traveled across the bridge at such dangerous heights, trying to fight a creepy monster.

You walk over to the window that was right next to the fire escape to your loft, sliding it open. That was how Chris usually entered your place, especially if he was still in his suit. You checked your phone, turning your back to the open window.

Still no text or call from Chris.

You let out a deep sigh, turning towards the window just in time to see Chris shooting his last web so he was able to land safely onto the fire escape.

He lifts a hand and tugs off his mask, leaning onto the windowsill, "Hey pretty lady, do you leave your window open for jus' anybody?" Chris teases you, a grin on his split open lip.

Relief floods through you, "Chris!" You half shout, immediately reaching for him. You help him climb into your room, frowning as he grunts in pain at shifting his body to fit through the window.

"I wish your spider would've given you like, super speed healing or something." You murmur to him quietly, easing him onto your reading chair. He winces out a laugh, leaning back and letting his shoulders fall.

"I wish, but it's a good thing I don't heal too fast." He replies, making you look at him as if he was crazy, "It keeps me humble."

"Oh my god." You sigh, placing a hand over your eyes in disbelief. You spin on your heel, heading for your bathroom to grab the first aid kit you keep for when Chris comes to you all banged up from a fight.

Once you’ve gathered what you needed, you head back into your room. Chris was slowly stepping through your window, but by some miracle he stumbled and crashed to the floor.

So much for these “spidey senses” he’s always raving about.

“Chris, are you okay?” You ask, a soft laugh escaping you. Chris’ head shoots up to glare at you, but he can’t fool you. A smile tugs at his lips, “Yeah, laugh it up chuckles.” He playfully sneers, letting you help him stand up. You sit him down on the singular chair you had in your room so you could tend to his wounds.

Chris winces as you apply the wet washcloth to wipe away the blood on his face, being mindful of his lip that was split open. You go to grab the ointment, before deciding that’s not necessary. It’ll heal before it has a chance to be infected.

“Any broken bones I’m unaware of?” You ask him, leaning back to look him in the eye. He shrugs, a wince appearing on his features, “Some ribs probably.” You decide quietly, helping him take off his suit.

A gasp rips from your throat as his chest and stomach were revealed, bruises ranging from a light purple to a deep purple and yellow scattered his skin. You grip onto his shoulder softly, your eyes filling with tears as you look up at him.

“Baby…” You trail off, wanting nothing more than to take his pain away. He defends an uncountable amount of people just to end up hurting and suffering once it’s said and done.

“I’m fine.” Chris frowns at you, gently cupping your face to tear your eyes away from his body. He never minded when you stared, he just hated seeing you look so sad.

You stayed quiet as you helped him change into a t-shirt and a pair of sweats he had left lying around, getting him comfortable in your bed.

“Where are you goin’ baby?” He softly asks, his hand shooting out to grab onto yours.

You leaned down to place a gentle kiss to his head, “Gonna go get us a drink. I’ll be right back.” You promised, and Chris reluctantly let go of your hand.

Making your way into the kitchen and getting out everything you needed to make Chris’ favorite; hot chocolate. You moved quickly, knowing if you took too long he’d join you in the kitchen. Placing mini marshmallows on top was the final touch, carefully picking them up and walking slowly to your room.

“Is that hot chocolate?” Chris excitedly asked, his interest peaked as he watched you walk across the room. You sent him a small smile, rounding the bed and carefully handing him his mug.

You both sip on your drinks silently, the noise from the city making the air around you two lighter.

After a while, Chris speaks up, “Baby, please tell me what’s on your mind.” He sets his mug on your nightstand, his eyes searching yours for questions he knows he can’t answer.

“I’m just…worried.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your eyes are glued to your mug, your hands tightly clutching it in a way to keep yourself present.

“About me?” Chris questions you quietly, to which you nod.

Your eyes burn as you fight back tears, “Every time you’re late, my brain takes me to a place I could never speak into words. It’s as if every nightmare I’ve ever had has come to life.” Chris nods, encouraging you to keep talking, “You’re on the streets fighting insane creatures and I never know which one will keep you. And it’s fucking horrifying.” The tears are flowing now, having to picture yourself finding out Chris was killed and having to live on without him.

“I promise I’m always bein’ safe,” Chris whispers, taking the mug out of your hand and placing it with his. He’s immediately tugging you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

“Nobody is gonna take me out, y’know? I won’t let them.” He murmurs into your hair, holding you tighter as your body shakes with each breath you take.

“You don’t know that Chris, and that’s what scares me the most,” You reply, lifting a hand to grip his tightly, “I don’t think you know your limits, and one day it’s going to catch up to you.” Chris takes in a deep breath at your words, really thinking them over.

Ultimately you were right. He knew that, but he hated that you were. In his mind, he could take on anything and come out standing on top. Chris hated that he kept you up worrying late at night, watching the news and waiting to see if he doesn’t stand back up after a hard hit.

“I’ll…” He trailed off, his brain racing as reality came crashing down around him, “I’ll be more careful. I’ll step out of a fight if I can’t handle it. I don’t want you to worry about me, Ma.”

You nod against his chest, accepting that this will be the first step in the right direction. “Thank you..” You reply softly, focusing on the way Chris’ chest rises and falls with every breath.

“Can I show you something?” Chris suddenly speaks, already shifting to sit up. You nod and watch on curiously as he slips on his suit again, no longer wincing as his body twists and turns.

“C’mon.”

Chris helps you onto the fire escape as your nerves build up, you never liked traveling by his webs. You knew it was safe and everything, but the feeling of free falling for just a second made you almost puke. He wraps an arm around your waist, and the two of you are off.

Your arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, your head resting against his shoulders and your eyes tightly squeezed shut. You could feel Chris chuckle as you took in a sharp breath as he took a rather long time to shoot another web.

He’s crazy.

Finally he landed, and you slowly released your grip on him as you take in the view. Chris had brought you to a secluded rooftop, overlooking the city. The sun was now set, the neon lights lighting up the area beneath you.

Chris turned to you, sliding off his mask, “I brought you here to make you a promise,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I know the danger and risks I face everyday, and I can’t bear to think of you getting hurt because of me.” Chris takes a deep breath, grabbing both of your hands as he stands directly in front of you.

“I promise to be more careful, to step back if the fight is getting too rough. I need to be there for you, but that can’t happen if I keep being reckless.” Chris finished with a sweet smile, releasing one of your hands to wipe the stray tear that had slipped from your eye.

Your heart was swelling in your chest, full of love and concern. You reached out with shaking hands, cupping his face gently, “I love you, Chris.” You whispered, your voice trembling as an overwhelming rush of emotion consuming you.

“I love you,” His voice was soft, but his eyes held everything you needed. Love, warmth, and honesty. You leaned in and Chris met you half way, your lips meeting in a tender and sweet kiss.

Maybe everything would be fine after all.

authors note — shut up I literally love this sm where is my spider man chrissss.

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo smut #spiderman #across the spiderverse

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sluttyten · 5 months ago

Text

miracle | guilty pleasure pt. 3

YangYang Masterlist || All Member Masterlist

Part 1: guilty pleasure || Part 2: love on the low low

summary: you’ve kept your relationship with yangyang a secret from everyone, but keeping a secret is hard, especially when you’re falling so fast in love.

length: 13,788 words

tags: secret relationship, semi-public sex, panty kink, oral sex, riding, possessive sex

YangYang’s smile is utterly distracting.

The sound of his laughter fills your ears, and you try to refocus, to not let yourself get swept up in his proximity. You remind yourself that you’re in this small dressing room surrounded by the other WayV members, other stylists, managers, the whole team.

It’s been difficult to keep your relationship with YangYang so secret as time goes on.

The fact that you currently are inches away from his face doesn’t help matters.

“Are you two gonna kiss?” Xiaojun teases from a few feet away.

YangYang laughs again.

“Like, God, at least take him out to dinner first.” Ten jokes from the seat beside YangYang.

Usually their teasing wouldn’t bother you.

But your fingers are currently in YangYang’s mouth.

Kun clucks at his members. “Leave them alone. Ten, c’mere, I need your help with the choreo.”

You’re forever grateful for Kun. You always have been, but especially so since he’s the only one outside of you and YangYang to know about your relationship. He’s been a huge help with distracting the others and helping to cover up for the pair of you when you slip up in public, kind of like right now.

Not that this is a slip up.

You being inches away from YangYang’s face with your fingers in his mouth has nothing to do with your relationship; it has everything to do with styling him for this music video shoot.

Your boyfriend’s lips are glossy pink, shimmering and coated in lip gloss. And you’re currently attempting to fit silver teeth decorations on his canines. They resemble vampire teeth but in a silver style that you convinced YangYang to try by describing it as similar to æspa’s Savage logo.

You pray that no one is still looking as you complete fitting the small decorations onto YangYang’s teeth. As you nod with satisfaction, YangYang briefly closes his lips around your fingers, tongue lapping against your fingertips.

You jerk your hand back, leaning away from him.

“Sorry, noona,” YangYang apologizes in a completely unapologetic way.

“Mm.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m sure you’re sorry.”

He smiles, teeth glimmering, lips shimmering. God, you want to kiss him.

The feeling doesn’t wane even as you move on to finishing styling Hendery next (without sticking your fingers in his mouth, which Ten manages to sneak in a comment about). You can’t shake your need for YangYang even as you sit by and watch the music video filming, as the long hours pass by, as you restyle him for a different part of the music video.

By the time you finally get your hands on him in the semi-privacy of you dragging him into the creepy looking bathroom down a back hallway of this filming site, you feel like you’re going to combust.

YangYang laughs quietly against your lips as you tug him against you. The grimy bathroom sink presses against your hips. The lights flicker a hideous shade of green-yellow fluorescence like you’re in a bad horror flick.

His lips taste sweet.

“Strawberry lip gloss?” You ask as you pull back, rolling your lips together to feel the tacky transfer of his lipgloss onto yours.

He nods. “Noona told me it’s her favorite.”

You wrinkle your nose. Obviously, you understand him calling one of the other stylists noona, but part of you dislikes it. That’s what he calls you, and the sound of him calling you that always sets you on fire.

YangYang backs you up against the sink even more, his hands on your hips as he lifts you just enough for your ass to sit on the edge of the sink. “I know it’s going to be late when filming ends, but I can come over, right?” He tips his forehead against yours. “I want to sleep beside you.”

A warm bloom opens in your chest.

He’s been so busy lately that he hasn’t been able to sleep over at your place in a while.

You’ve missed sleeping beside him.

“If you think you can get away.” You press a short kiss to his lips. “We don’t want the guys getting too suspicious of where you are.”

You press lightly against his chest, and YangYang takes a step back, giving you enough room to slip from the bathroom sink. He looks down at you as you straighten your clothes, as you wipe at your lips in an attempt to get rid of the shimmering remnants of his lipgloss on your mouth.

“Noona,” he says, and your heart leaps. “Noona, how long are we going to keep this a secret from everyone?” YangYang reaches for your hand. “I want to show you off. I want to be able to talk about you. I know that we can’t tell the world, but can’t we at least tell my friends? I’m tired of hiding us.”

Voices echo in the hallway outside the bathroom.

You drag your hand from YangYang’s, your brain whirring as you attempt to think of a valid excuse for why the pair of you might be alone together in this bathroom.

Just before the bathroom door opens, you shove YangYang back against the wall behind the door, and you whirl around to face the sink.

The door flies open, and reflected in the mirror above the sink, you see two of the stylists standing framed in the doorway.

“There you are!” One of them calls from the door. “We were looking for you. I think we’re all going out for drinks after filming. Did you want to come?”

The other woman starts to walk inside, and you know that if she does, she will inevitably spot YangYang in the hiding spot behind the door.

“Wait! You don’t want to use these toilets. The one is clogged up with toilet paper, and the other one just looks filthy, so unless you’re desperate…” You fib.

“Ugh,” both other women groan in unison. One says, “No, there’s one back by the dressing room. We’ll just head back over there.”

They wait for you at the door, so you pretend to dry your hands off with a paper towel, then exit the bathroom with them, hoping YangYang isn’t pissed at you for leaving him behind in the bathroom.

It’s about two hours later that filming concludes.

It’s about two hours and fifteen minutes later when you realize the other stylists didn’t mean it was only your team going out for after-work drinks. The members were coming too, as well as a couple of the background dancers, and two of the managers. There’s definitely no backing out of the hasty agreement you’d made in the bathroom, much to your disappointment.

Not that you don’t want to hang out with your coworkers for drinks. You do want that.

But it impacts the plan YangYang presented you with in that bathroom first. The idea of heading home as soon as filming wrapped for the night, bringing YangYang to bed with you. Taking some time with each other in the safe privacy of your apartment. Getting to fall asleep beside him and wake up with him in the morning, neither of which you get to do very often.

Instead of heading home, you find yourself squeezed into a seat between a manager and one of your stylist friends at a table in a restaurant not too far from the filming site. YangYang sits across from you, and you try not to notice the way he’s completely avoiding eye contact and hasn’t spoken to you since you ditched him in the bathroom.

Drinks flow heavily at that table, and mixed together with the sleepiness you feel due to it being after midnight, it doesn’t take long before you’re feeling the buzz. You’re smiling, laughing loudly along with everyone else, chatting and joking around. You don’t notice YangYang get up and leave the room, not until he’s returning, slipping into the seat beside you that was previously occupied by the other stylist.

“I think you’ve had enough,” YangYang says, appearing basically from nowhere. He touches your wrist, easing your hand back down to the table. He loosens your fingers from the glass brimming with soju. “Or at least slow down, noona.”

Across the table, you think you hear one of his group members teasing you both, but you’re deaf to everything but the sound of YangYang’s voice, blind to everything but his still shimmery lips, numb to everything but his warm fingers still lingering against yours.

He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes. “See, you’re out of it, noona. Looking at me like that. Everyone’s going to think that maybe I’m not the only one with a crush.”

You open your mouth to argue that, to assure him that you’ve definitely got more than a crush on him, but then he pinches your thigh, and the sharp pain at your thigh ties a knot in your tongue. You frown, snapping your mouth shut.

“That’s better,” YangYang says softly, a faint smile curving his lips. “That’s how you usually look at me at work, noona. Like I’m the greatest source of your frustration.”

Part of you wants to throw those words at him, tell him that he certainly is a source of your frustration, but another part of you has sobered up slightly from that hard pinch from YangYang, and you don’t want to say anything else to him right now when you’re not fully in control of what might slip through your brain-to-mouth filter.

YangYang turns away from you, picking up conversation with the manager on his other side. You kinda slip into a daze, zoning out a bit as you snack on whatever sits in front of you until you feel YangYang’s hand brush against yours beneath the table.

You jerk your head upright, blinking against the way the movement blurred the room around you a bit. “Hmm?”

“Noraebang?” Kun is watching you from across the table. “We’re thinking of going to a nearby noraebang, but maybe you’ve had enough? You look pretty sleepy. Maybe someone should help you home.” His gaze darts briefly to YangYang.

You shake your head no. “I’m good. I’m fine. Let’s noraebang!” You shove back from the table and stand up too quickly, the world spins and wobbles, and seconds later you realize you’ve just dumped yourself across YangYang’s lap.

He grins at you in that flirty way he’s always had. “Hi, noona.”

“See, you’re definitely drunk if you’re falling into YangYang’s lap,” Kun announces.

YangYang carefully helps move you back over to your abandoned seat. “Noona, maybe you should just go home. Hyejin noona?” He turns to one of the other stylists. “Can you help her make sure she gets home safely?”

You feel the sting of rejection at the loss of contact with YangYang, but a less-drunk and more rational little voice in your head tells you that he’s doing this for you. You’re drunk, and he’s trying to get you home without making it obvious to everyone at the table that he wants to be the one to take you home. And he’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t — in the eyes of his members and management team and stylist crew — look like a creep trying to take advantage of you being intoxicated when they all know that he’s got a crush on you.

But still, you pout as Hyejin helps you to your feet.

There are scattered goodbyes and goodnights from around the table as Hyejin leads you away.

You’ve made it outside, stumbling over your own feet every few steps — maybe you have had a little too much to drink — and possibly a quarter of the way down the block, when you hear a shout behind you.

Hyejin turns to look. You twist your head around but all you can see is a dark figure moving towards you quickly.

Your heart thuds and begins racing.

Hyejin starts fumbling for her bag even while still trying to drag you along towards the nearby bus stop. You reach for your bag too, thinking that if this is someone coming after what they probably think is two drunk girls, you’ve got pepper spray in your bag.

But you don’t have your bag.

You must have left it tucked beneath the table at the restaurant.

Shit.

You can hear the footsteps pounding the pavement behind you as your pursuer draws closer, still shouting out for you and Hyejin to stop.

And then, “Noona, stop! You forgot this!” The pursuer calls.

You jerk to a halt, spinning around right as YangYang finally catches up. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink, hair a little messy, and your purse swings from his hand.

Hyejin whimpers a little and collapses back against the wall of the building you’re next to. “Damn, YangYang, you scared us.”

You stare at him for a moment, and he stares right back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “for scaring you. I noticed noona’s bag, and I didn’t think you’d probably be able to get home without your apartment keys and stuff.”

Hyejin mumbles something.

You take your bag from YangYang. “Thank you. But running up behind us in the dark wasn’t a good idea.”

“I get that now. I didn’t even think.” YangYang takes a step closer to you, glancing behind you at Hyejin for a split second before his eyes are back on yours. “I can help you get home, noona. When I suggested Hyejin noona take you home, I didn’t even think of how two women alone who’d been drinking might look like a target for bad guys. I can go with you, protect you.”

Yangyang puffs out his chest a little.

You and Hyejin both laugh at that. He grins, only letting his smile grow brighter when you lift a hand and push lightly at his chest.

“You were taking the bus, right?” YangYang asks. “I’ll ride with you, make sure you both reach your stops.”

Hyejin eagerly agrees.

You nod, feeling that warm blossom blooming in your chest again. You like when YangYang takes care of you, when he’s protective and concerned for you.

The bus is perfectly on time, showing up about ten minutes later. The doors squeal as they open. Only a few people occupy the seats, but YangYang still squeezes Hyejin, you, and then himself into one row. You’re nearly sitting in his lap, which you don’t really mind, but Hyejin keeps giving him weird looks. Especially after the bus driver hits a big bump in the road; you rise up and come down hard on YangYang’s thigh, inciting a groan from both of you. YangYang’s hands fall to your hips, resituating you in his lap into a more comfortable position.

Hyejin snorts.

“What?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “This kid and his crush on you, and right now you’re giving him everything he wants.” She glances pointedly at his hands resting on your hips.

You look down, and you swat his hands away.

YangYang sighs. “I’m not trying anything, Hyejin noona. I swear. I’m not interested in forcing myself on anyone, and she’s had too much to drink right now, which means that she’s not in the right state of mind to make decisions.” He nudges you. “She can sit in your lap, if that makes you feel better about all this.”

You start to move like you’re about to shift over into Hyejin’s lap.

She shakes her head quickly. “No, that’s okay. My stop is before yours, unnie. With YangYang here, vowing not to take advantage of you, I’ll just get off at my stop instead of taking you home first then backtracking to my stop. If that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” You feel YangYang’s hand settle on your hip again. “I trust him.”

“And, by the way,” YangYang addresses Hyejin, “my obvious crush on her means that I want her fully in her right state of mind with me. If anything happens, I want to know it’s her decision, not something I forced on her. Reciprocated feelings are the best feeling in the world. Maybe someday I’ll get that from her.”

There’s a little too much honestly in his voice for that last sentence, and your heart sinks in your chest. Does YangYang think that you don’t feel the same? Is it because of your insistence in hiding this relationship? That’s for protection! For protecting both of you!

Silence falls between the three of you as the bus trundles through the streets.

Finally you reach Hyejin’s stop.

She lives in a popular area. There are still a decent amount of people out on the street here. Bars and restaurants and clubs are still lit up even though it’s nearly two in the morning.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” YangYang asks Hyejin as she rises to squeeze past you. “To make sure you get there safely?”

“But what about…?” She inclines her head towards you.

“I’ll come too. I’m fine now, I think. Starting to sober up a little more, so I can walk with you and YangYang just fine.” To prove your point you stand up and walk down the bus aisle towards the doors. You only veer into one of the seats just once. When you reach the doors you turn back to look at Hyejin and YangYang. “See?”

YangYang rolls his eyes with a little smile, but they both quickly catch up with you as you step off the bus.

Hyejin’s apartment is just a short walk from the bus stop, and it’s along a well-lit populated street, so in all likelihood she would have made it safely home. But as you walk along between her and YangYang, with your shoulder bumping into him and your hand brushing against his, you can’t help that feeling in your chest again.

There’s something about him genuinely caring about your friend’s safety that endears him even more to you. He keeps chattering with her as you walk, filling the silence until your trio reaches her door.

“Thank you, YangYang.” She reaches into her bag for her keys, and she’s not looking at him as she says, “You’re a good kid, you know?”

He makes a small sound. You lean against the wall beside her door, and she glances at you with a secret, small smile.

She pushes her door open.

“Goodnight, Hyejin,” you say.

“Goodnight to both of you. And remember, YangYang, no funny business.” She steps inside and twists around to look at him.

“Nothing funny about my business,” is his quick reply. “When it comes to her, it’s all very serious business.”

Hyejin looks between YangYang and you as you fold your arms and shake your head in disbelief. Her gaze narrows slightly, and she makes a soft “Hmm,” which can’t possibly be a good sign.

“Goodnight, Hyejin,” you repeat, and then you grab YangYang’s arm. “Let’s go. I’m tired, and you know, I’m really feeling better. Maybe I can go the rest of the way home alone, YangYang.”

No sooner have the words left your mouth than your feet twist beneath you and you crash into YangYang’s side. He and Hyejin both laugh.

“Not a chance, noona.” He waves back at Hyejin.

A moment later you hear her door shut.

“Come on, noona. Let’s get you home.” YangYang casually drapes his arm over your shoulders, and he starts walking.

Outside Hyejin’s building, the night doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Mixed crowds of people mill around, passing from bar to bar even though the establishments should probably be closing soon.

“Y’know, I really wanted to go to the noraebang with everyone.” You tilt your head up to look at YangYang. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to one, and I’m sure you guys always make it fun.”

YangYang smiles. “We do. I’m sure we’ll go out again, all of us, sometime around the end of promotions. We usually do.”

And then you see a neon sign a short distance ahead of you. You clutch YangYang’s arm with one hand and you point with your other. “We could go right now! Just you and me?”

The neon sign blinks blue and pink. Noraebang. A little image of a microphone glows white surrounded by music notes that blink in yellow.

“Please?” You press yourself against YangYang’s side. “Pretty please?”

He sighs in a way you’ve grown familiar with since this relationship started; it means he’s going to tell you yes, but he’s going to pretend to argue about it first.

“Noona, do you remember earlier when I told you I wanted to come home with you tonight and sleep with you?” He asks. You nod. “I’m beginning to wonder if you even want that.”

“Liu YangYang.” You straighten up to your full height. You take his cheeks between your hands and drag his face around so he’s looking right at you. “Baby, I swear, I want nothing more than to fall asleep beside you and wake up with you tomorrow. I want that so much I can’t even describe it. But right now I also want to go have fun singing along to popular songs at the top of our lungs in that building right there. And I want to do it with you, so please, pretty, pretty please can we go? And then we’ll go home, take a shower, maybe we’ll even have sex, and then we’ll fall asleep together just like we both want?”

YangYang grits his teeth, and you begin to wonder if you’d completely gotten this wrong.

But then he groans and pulls his head out from between your hands. He grabs one of your hands tightly in his and starts walking, dragging you along. Towards the noraebang.

“You don’t know how much I want to kiss you right now,” he growls under his breath. “But I can’t because we’re in public.”

But within minutes you and YangYang are in a private room. The TV screen shows a selection of songs. The booth at the back of the room has crackly vinyl seats curved around a round table where the staff has already delivered the soju and snacks you’d hastily ordered. The lights are dim, filling the room with a blue glow. Somewhere in the distance, muffled by the soundproofing, you swear you hear someone scream-singing along to what you’re pretty sure is a BTS song.

“We’re alone now,” you tell YangYang as you drop down onto the seats in the back of the room.

“And?” He’s got the remote in hand, and he’s scrolling through the songs to choose one for you.

“And you said you desperately wanted to kiss me, but we were in public. We’re alone now.” You lean back.

YangYang turns to you. “I thought you wanted to sing?”

“I do. But don’t you want to kiss me first?”

YangYang walks back towards you. “Noona, if I kiss you, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop.”

You laugh. “You want me that much, baby?”

“Always.” He nods. “There’s never a time that I don’t want you desperately, entirely, madly. I’ve told you before, noona, I only have feelings for you. You are the only one I think of, and I literally haven’t fantasized about anyone but you in a lot longer than I care to admit. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be with you? Have I ever told you that?”

You shake your head no.

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met. I walked into the dressing room, unsure of how my day was going to go, and there you were. You were so pretty even though it was too early in the morning and everyone was half-asleep. And you were beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you even then, and right away the guys started teasing me. But it only grew from there, you know? Because then I actually started getting to know you, talking with you, spending time with you. I, still to this day, haven’t found anything about you that I didn’t like. I… I like everything about you, noona. I want every single part of you.”

He kneels on the seat with you. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear YangYang’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you.

You rise up, grabbing the front of his shirt, and you drag his mouth down against yours.

YangYang flattens himself against you, pressing you down until you’re lying flat on the cushioned bench seat. He bites at your bottom lip, his tongue quickly swiping over the sharp sting.

You knot your fingers in his hair, kissing him back hungrily, wanting more, needing more.

He opens himself up, his tongue meeting yours. He shifts on top of you, fitting himself between your legs.

Suddenly, loud upbeat music starts blaring, lights set into the wall beside the TV screen spin beams of light through the room.

Yangyang almost falls to the floor in his hurry to pull away from you, his hands searching the seat, the floor, the table for the remote he dropped and must’ve accidentally selected a song.

You laugh, which leads to him laughing. You grab one of the microphones, deciding that maybe you should actually do what you came in here to do instead of just make out with your boyfriend on this old vinyl seating.

He eventually locates the remote, but you’re already singing along to After Like by IVE.

Next is YangYang’s turn, and you choose Up & Down by EXID just because you want to see him do the choreography that you know he’s learned at some point. You sit back in the seat, sipping at a beer while you playfully toss pieces of popcorn at him while YangYang performs for you.

You each take a shot of soju, and then it’s your turn.

You continue on like that for a while. Your turn, then YangYang’s. Occasionally one of you finds a song to duet. There are shots in between performances, snacks and beers during. And although you’d started sobering up during the trip from the restaurant to Hyejin’s apartment, your buzz has quickly built back up again.

Your singing is definitely growing more and more off-key with each passing round. And you and YangYang are growing handsier.

After you finish a spectacular rendition of Eyes, Nose, Lips by Taeyang you’d serenaded YangYang with, you collapse into the seat beside him.

“Have we had enough?” He asks, and his face is glowing and hazy, his cheeks rosy, eyes glazed. “Noona? Or do you want to keep singing?”

“Maybe a few more?” You suggest as you check the time. It’s after three in the morning, not quite four yet. You booked the room for two hours.

YangYang nods and reaches for the remote to select the next song. He finds a selection that’s a playlist basically, so it will just play several songs back to back without the need for you to select them.

The first song is a One Direction song, and YangYang stays seated beside you as he sings, bubbling through his performance. He’s finished off two beers and half the bottle of soju, so he keeps squinting at the screen as if he can’t see the lyrics very well.

“You’re cute,” you tell him, sitting up on your knees so you can look at him better. “Very cute, YangYang. Cute, my baby.”

YangYang looks over at you. “I’m not a baby, noona.”

“No?” You tease. “You’re my baby, though. You let me take care of you and I make you feel good.” You lift a hand and comb your fingers through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut. “You’re a good boy for noona.”

YangYang groans, peeking one eye open. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Doesn’t that make you my baby? Huh?” He lifts his hand to mirror yours in his hair. “Can you be a good girl for Oppa?”

“Oppa?” You laugh, batting his hand away. “Is that what you want me to call you, YangYangie? I won’t.” You shake your head. “My baby, YangYang. Jagiya. Yeobo. Bǎo bèi.” His head tilts at the Chinese endearment from your lips, and then he bursts into a smile when you utter an English one next, “My love.”

“Is that what I am?” He asks. “Am I your love? Your one and only love?”

You don’t know how you let that word slip out. You haven’t used it with each other yet. Yes, you know you have deep feelings for each other, but you’ve not admitted to being in love with him yet.

You lift up on your knees and lean over to the table, and with hands that you pray aren’t shaking, you pour two shots of soju. When you turn around, you offer one to YangYang, but he doesn’t move, he just gazes up at you as you kneel there. For once you’ve got the height advantage.

He doesn’t move to take the shot from you, just waiting for your answer. You throw back your shot, swallowing down the burn.

“Yes,” you admit after a moment. “I love you, YangYang. I’m in love with you.”

His teasing mirth fades, and he gazes at you with a dazed look of awe.

“Earlier you said that you hope someday I’ll reciprocate your feelings,” you say, “So I hope you’re in love with me too, or else I’m the one that’s waiting for you to catch up now. Are you?”

YangYang’s mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.

“Do you love me, YangYang? Or is this just an intense crush?” You ask again. Still, he can’t seem to utter any words. “Do you need the courage to tell me?”

You lift the shot you poured for him a minute ago.

“Noona, I…” is all he manages before he falls silent again.

“Here,” you say, dropping your free hand beneath his chin to tilt his head up. YangYang’s gaze rises and hooks on yours. You lift the soju glass. YangYang’s mouth falls obediently open, and he doesn’t look away from your eyes as you tip the glass and pour the soju down YangYang’s throat.

He coughs a little as it goes down, and you draw the empty glass back.

“Good boy,” you compliment him, running your thumb along his bottom lip to catch a stray drop. “Are you feeling more brave now to tell noona how you feel?”

The music is still playing in the background, a song that you can’t identify. You’re not going to look away from YangYang long enough to figure it out either.

He opens his mouth, his tongue darts out to flick against the tip of your thumb. “Do you really need to ask? Is the way I feel not obvious?”

When you feel YangYang’s hands wander to your thighs, drifting higher to your hips, you feel heat kick up in your belly. And then he nudges you to shift your weight, to kneel over his lap instead of just kneeling beside him.

You settle over YangYang’s lap, still looking down at him, one of your hands rests beneath his chin.

“Noona, I…”

You wish he would cease cutting himself off. You want to hear him say it. You need to hear his confession to you.

“YangYang, please.” You stroke your thumb along his bottom lip again, feel the heated exhale of his breath.

He utters your given name, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t follow it with noona, just leaves it at that. Your name. His lips. His eyes never leave yours even while you seat yourself entirely in his lap.

“I love you,” YangYang confesses breathlessly. His hands skim higher than just your hips, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel the bare skin of your sides against his fingertips. “I am hopelessly, depthlessly in love with you. Drowning in it. Each day I sink deeper in love with you, which is saying something since I was in so far over my head even before the first night you kissed me.

“But then you gave me a chance. You gave me that one night where you gave in and used me as your guilty pleasure. I knew you wanted only that, but as I said, I was already in love with you. I knew that was it for you, but I couldn’t help wanting more. More of your touch, your kiss, the heat of you wrapped around me. I needed you. I dreamt of having you like that again, but there was more than that. I dreamt of you, constantly. Of your smile, of holding your hand and walking down the street together. Taking you on dates. Random dreams that you starred in purely because you’re where my mind always turns to. I’m in love with you, noona. And I’m so tired of hiding it.”

“Then let’s not hide it anymore.” You curl your hands around his neck, and you drag YangYang’s mouth to yours.

He tastes like soju and salty chips, and he moans when you immediately sneak your hand to the front of his pants. YangYang is already delightfully half hard, his hips jerking up to push his semi-hard erection against your palm.

Your tongue tangles with YangYang’s, and each of you tastes the moans of the other as YangYang’s hands on your body mirror the position of yours on him. He slides one of his hands inside your pants, inside your panties, finding your pussy damp and your clit already throbbing with the need to be touched.

You grind against his fingers, suck on his tongue, and without even looking, you unfasten his pants and pull his cock out so you can properly touch him.

“Noona,” he gasps, dragging his mouth away from yours. “Here?”

A surprised snicker escapes you. “You once begged me to touch you in a dressing room with all of the members and most of the staff about five feet away, but you’re nervous about doing this here? We’re alone.”

“I just… didn’t think this was really something you were into. Doing this in semi-public spaces.” YangYang licks his lips. “Like, touching each other beneath the clothes and making out, I can see how you’d be fine with that, but do you really want to strip down and have sex in here?”

Honestly, your main thought was that you were going to give him a blowjob that would have him crying out and moaning for you loud enough to test out just how soundproof this room really is, but now that he’s mentioned more….

“Absolutely.” You lean in, giving his lips a quick peck. “As long as you’re fine with that?”

YangYang nods. “Yes, noona. I’m so good with this.”

The song that comes on the machine in the background switches, miraculously becoming a sultry, sexy song right as you lift yourself from YangYang’s lap to stand in front of him instead.

He sits there watching, face flushed and lips glossy from your kiss. His cock stands tall, rising from the opening of his pants, and he wraps his hand around himself as he looks at you.

You drag your shirt over your head, letting it fall onto the table behind you. Next, you shimmy your pants down to pool around your ankles.

YangYang’s hand works over his length, thumbing at the tip. He leans his head back, bites his lip, and watches you with his eyes half-veiled. “Oh fuck, noona. I— I can’t even tell you what I’m thinking right now.” His gaze roves hungrily over your bare legs, your barely-there thong, your bra that hugs your chest so well.

You lift your hands to your tits, making a show of unfastening your bra, letting it slide down from your shoulders before you drop it onto the table behind you.

YangYang swallows, his throat bobbing around another soft moan. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure; his hand moves in slow, smooth strokes over his cock.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you request. “YangYangie, tell me.”

You sink to your knees despite the limited space, and YangYang’s eyes follow you all the way down.

You try your best to ignore that the floor is sticky beneath your knees. Instead, you focus on tucking your hair back behind your ears before you lean in to lick up the pearly drop of precum beading at your boyfriend’s tip.

“Fuck me,” he moans. He presses his thumb against his cock, applying just enough pressure to push the head between your lips. “Noona, I can’t tell you.” He shakes his head even as you’re sinking your lips around his cock. “You wouldn’t look at me the same if I told you what I’m thinking.”

There’s a thin string of saliva stretching between your bottom lip and his tip when you pull back. “Try me, baby. It must be really dirty if you’re worried.” You brush his hand away from his cock, letting your fingers take their place.

He shakes his head again, whining as you only offer him teasing kitten-licks to his cock, avoiding the tip. “Noona, please!”

“Please what, baby? You haven’t told me what you want yet.” You trace your tongue along the length of him, and YangYang’s hands flex at his thighs, but he doesn’t move them from there. “What do you want?”

YangYang really sounds like he’s struggling with himself, whining and whimpering as you tease him with nothing more than light touches. It’s only when you spit on his cock and use just your fingertip to spread it around that he finally breaks.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me, noona?” YangYang whines.

God, what’s he going to say that he’s so worried you’ll take the wrong way?

“Hnng, please!” YangYang bucks his hips off the seat, trying to achieve more contact with you. “I feel gross, like a pervert saying this out loud. But you look so sexy right now, and I just really, really want to sniff your panties.”

Oh.

YangYang goes still, waiting for your reaction.

It’s gross, sure, but it’s definitely not anywhere near the worst thing that could have come out of his mouth. If that’s what he wants….

“You want to sniff my panties, YangYang? Is that what you’re asking for?” You circle your thumb just beneath the head of his cock, making him squirm. “You want noona to make you feel good while you sniff my panties like a little pervert?”

YangYang nods, hips rocking against your touch again. “Please.”

“Okay, YangYang.” You stand up. “But we’re going to play by my rules, alright? We’ve only got so long before our time’s up in the room. So I’m gonna try to make this fast.”

You stand, and YangYang squirms in his seat as he watches you drop your panties, as you pinch the fabric between your fingers and you drop it right over his cock.

YangYang snatches the thong up, brings the material to his nose. His fingers are clenched tight around the lace as he buries his nose in it, his eyes close, and his cock twitches.

You must admit, the sight is a bit arousing.

He moans, and his eyes flash open to look at you. You nod, encouraging him to keep doing what he wanted so badly.

You straddle him, a knee on either side of his thighs, settling over YangYang’s lap.

“Honestly, YangYang,” you tell him as you slide closer to him, spreading your legs a little more to shrink space between your body and his. “If I didn’t so badly want to test the limits of the soundproofing on this room, if the thought of hearing you moan for me didn’t get me so wet, I would stuff these panties in your mouth as a gag and let you soak in the taste of me.”

You swear his eyes roll back in his head. His cock twitches between your legs. And with a satisfied grin, you reach one hand down to guide YangYang’s cock to your entrance. Your pussy truly is so wet right now while you watch YangYang enjoying holding your scent right up against his nose.

You drop your hips, sinking your pussy down around YangYang until there’s nothing left to take.

“Mm, noona, you always feel so nice.” YangYang brings his hands to your hips, one of them still clasping your panties. “And you smell so fucking tasty.”

You drop your head forward to rest your cheek atop his head. YangYang wraps his arms around your waist, brushing his hands down to grasp at your ass again a moment later when you start moving on him.

YangYang is immediately vocalizing — moaning loud enough to make it clear he’s feeling good, talking about the way you feel around him, rambling to you about how badly he’s wanted to ask to sniff your panties before.

“And your tits, too,” he says, looking up at you with glistening eyes. “Fuck, noona, they’re just so pretty. I have to try so hard to not stare at them all day, to not let my thoughts hyperfixate on how much I wanted to suck on your pretty nipples all day. I just—“

YangYang’s face is at the perfect height right now as you’re perched atop his lap riding his cock. Your chest is right in his face.

He leans in, and for a split second you feel the heat of his breath and then your mind clears out at the hot swell of his lips and tongue against one nipple, and his fingers are on the other, pinching and rolling, flicking the pad of his thumb over the hardened nub.

With his face buried against your chest, his cock swelling inside you, and the all-encompassing heat of being with YangYang, you can quickly feel your orgasm rising. You knot your fingers in his hair, and you drag his mouth away from your tit.

He looks fucked — eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, lips glossy and parted with awe as he looks at you. A depraved moan spills through his pretty lips, and you can’t take it anymore.

You kiss him.

It’s a kiss of desperation, of overwhelming love and need and desire. You just need to be as close to him as possible in that exact moment.

Your tongue dances with his while you hold his precious face in your hands. YangYang moans into the kiss something that could be your name, could be a swear, could be a plea for more or harder, or could be a warning that he’s about to cum.

YangYang’s fingertips dig into your ass, palms bruising against your hips. He’s got you moving faster on him, and his hips are rocking up off the vinyl seat to drive himself to his orgasm.

“Come on, noona.” YangYang murmurs against your chin when you momentarily break away from the kiss. “Cum with me, noona. God I need it. I need you.” His mouth slides back to yours, silencing whatever else he might say.

He drags a hand from the curve of your ass, slipping it between your moving bodies. His fingers draw tight circles against your clit. His hand still on your ass pulls you down as he thrusts up, and all of it combines to have your orgasm sweeping pure bliss through your veins — your vision blinks out for a moment, toes curl, your nails bite into whatever part of YangYang you’re touching, your pussy pulses around YangYang, drawing him right into climax with you.

Both of you are moaning into each other's mouth, clinging to each other, soaking in the sweet wonder that is a love confession followed by hot semi-public sex.

YangYang laughs after a moment, and he tucks his cheek against your warm shoulder. “I think our time’s up tonight. But if we go back to your place, we can continue this.”

You don’t want to move, but you know that your time in this room is up. And the last thing you want is for an employee to have to come kick you out and find you both like this.

You quickly gather your clothes and come to the unfair realization that YangYang actually remained fully dressed.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, just smirking while he watches you shimmy back into your pants. “And I’ll be keeping these, if that’s alright?”

He’s already tucking your panties into his pocket, not even waiting for your response. For the record, you would’ve said yes; you would give him anything he asked for.

One of your favorite perks to this job is the opportunity to travel overseas when the group has schedules to attend. A stylist is always necessary, and even if it’s a limited team, you’re always one selected for a trip.

This time, only Ten and YangYang are going to LA. It’s a brief trip, just two nights. You’re flying in at midday on the first day, then one more full day, and leaving early the following morning.

It’s been only a few short days since the noraebang. You’re still buzzing off the love confessions shared between you and YangYang. He’s been spending every moment he’s not at work with you, sleeping over at your place, still there when you wake up. These two nights you’re in LA have the potential to be rough; sleeping without him may be difficult now that you’ve grown accustomed to it these past few nights.

“We’ll be okay.” YangYang brushes his knuckles against yours as you wait beside him to go through the security line. Under his breath, he says, “If anything, you can sneak over to my room.”

You have a feeling that you’ll probably take him up on that offer.

Although you’d come to the decision together to no longer hide your relationship, you’re also not flaunting it or announcing it. You’re just being a bit more open, slowly wading out into these uncertain waters. You’ve told your families, but other than them, it’s still only Kun that knows with any certainty.

Right now, that small brush of your hands together and an exchange of soft smiles is enough. Before, you’d have probably pulled away and made excuses to the nearest staff member about the minor moment of intimacy.

While you wait to board the flight, you sit beside YangYang. Both of you are a bit sleep-deprived in an attempt to reset your sleep schedule to fit the needs of this LA trip, so you’re just sitting there quietly on your phones, occasionally joining in conversation with the two other stylists, two managers, and Ten.

You’re separated for the flight. You have a seat back with the other staff members, and YangYang has a fancy first class seat.

The hours of the flight drag by, stretching on forever, even when you sleep through a couple hours in the middle of the flight.

Finally, your reunion with YangYang comes when you’re finally through customs.

He and Ten stand within a cluster of security along with one of the two managers, waiting for you and the other two stylists to catch up. YangYang looks tired, eyes dim and shoulders slumped. He’s wearing a beanie pulled low over his recently bleached white hair, big headphones on to tune out the noise, and a mask hides most of his face. But he looks up as you approach, and his tired eyes brighten, he straightens up a little.

“Hey, noona, how was your flight?” He asks, stepping towards the wall of security around him. They shift around, creating an opening that you easily slip through.

Ten glances over at you, an appraising look followed by a small smirk as he glances between you and YangYang.

“Too long. I’m ready to relax at the hotel for the rest of the day.” You run your fingers through your hair, and YangYang sighs softly. His eyes are on you, on your hair. “I’m thinking since there’s no schedule for you guys until tonight, it might be a pool day.”

YangYang nods.

“Alright, everyone here?” The manager asks, doing a very quick headcount. “Let’s go.”

The other manager went ahead of everyone already. He took YangYang and Ten’s luggage, and he went to fetch the rental van, which he’s apparently got ready and waiting.

As soon as your group steps out into the open, you’re bombarded by screams, camera flashes, people crying out Ten and YangYang’s names.

“Fuck,” Ten mutters just ahead of you.

You’ve traveled with them before, but you’ve never seen a crowd gathered this big. You’re also usually not directly clumped with them as they travel through the airport, but considering how small of a traveling party they’ve got this time, it would be silly for you and the other two stylists to navigate the airport separately.

So when the security barriers break and fans come flooding towards their idols, that’s an all new experience for you.

For one moment, you’re all safe surrounded by the wall of security guards, and in the next you’re a simple island in a wild sea, bombarded on every side by endless waves of pushing and shoving and screaming fans. Phones and photos and cards and gifts are being shoved into your face. Hands reach through the gaping security to grab at Ten and YangYang, grabbing you and the other stylists too in the confusion. People are touching and poking, pushing, pulling.

And then someone falls. A fan outside the circle of security.

One of the guards pushes a fan away.

And then there’s a break in security just wide enough for a girl to slip through. She bulldozes into the circle, aiming for either Ten or YangYang, but she crashes into you, sending you straight to the floor. Several more fans close in, and in the rush, in the confusion, security breaks apart, allowing even more fans to flood in, separating you from them as security pushes Ten and YangYang away from the fans.

Lost in all the noise and movement, you lie there dazed for a moment, curled in on yourself to keep from getting trampled. A spark of panic lights up inside you as you realize that you’ve been separated from the others.

“Stop!” Someone calls out.

You draw in, knees towards your chest, trying to cover your head as more of the fans step around you and over you.

“Get back!” Another shout above you.

You open your eyes when you feel a hand on your arm.

YangYang.

His face fills your vision, and his arms come around you. “Everyone, back off!”

YangYang hauls you to your feet, tucking you protectively into his side as the security closes in tightly once more. You’re herded through the obnoxious crowd, and out through the airport’s doors.

YangYang doesn’t loosen his hold on you. His fingers dig into your upper arm; your shoulder is shoved into his side. Somehow you’ve still got a good grip on your suitcase, although you’re just dragging it along behind you rather than rolling it.

You reach the car. Security forms an arc around the open door of the van. Ten throws himself inside, the other stylists follow, and then YangYang makes sure you’re inside before he shoves your suitcase in after you, and then he follows, slamming the van door shut.

Immediately, the manager driving pulls away from the curb.

You haven’t even had time to buckle your seatbelt, nor has YangYang, but as you’re struggling with buckling it into place, YangYang is still distracted with you, his hands running over your arms, checking your hands, lifting to your face and feeling around your head.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, I swear, if I find even a bruise on you… God, I’m going to be posting furiously on Bubble. Are they crazy? Do they not care about our safety or those of the people with us?” YangYang is frantic, too busy worrying over you to even concern himself with his seatbelt, so you reach over to do it for him. “You could’ve been seriously hurt, noona. And no one was even stopping to help you. They could have stepped on you.”

“I’m fine, YangYang.” You brush his hand away from your cheek. “I just got knocked down. I’m fine.”

His hand returns to your cheek as you click his seatbelt into place. “Noona.”

With an exasperated sigh, you look up at him. “Yang—“

He cuts you off with his lips against yours.

Everyone in the car gasps. The car swerves as the manager driving twists his head to see what’s happening in the backseat.

Your mind whirs, a whirlwind, a mess of wanting to pull yourself closer to YangYang while also wanting to push him away because Ten and the other stylists and the managers are right there.

YangYang jerks back from you, and you blink away your dazed, warm feeling.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ten has a grip on the back of YangYang’s shirt, holding him back from you. “You can’t just do that!”

“Unnie!” One of the other stylists cries, and her arm is thrust between you and YangYang, trying to create space between you. Her face twists as she looks at YangYang, “Yah, bastard, you can’t just force yourself on a woman like that! Everyone knows you have a crush on her, but that doesn’t excuse—“

“We’re dating!” The force of your exclamation shocks everyone into silence. Even YangYang’s mouth pops open in surprise. “We’ve kept it a secret because, well, the unprofessional nature of it. But it’s happening, and we’re happy, and he’s actually definitely allowed to kiss me and act protective over me.” You reach for his hand.

YangYang, beaming like he just won at life, quickly laces his fingers through yours.

Ten swears and throws himself back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, this is great. Just great.” His tone indicates quite the opposite.

“Ten?” YangYang cocks his head slightly, addressing the older man.

Ten rolls his eyes. “I guess I just lost a bet, that’s all.”

You shake your head in disbelief. YangYang scoffs, and asks, “Do we even want to know?”

“Everyone was taking bets about the two of you. There was a secret group chat with everyone but you, YangYang.” Ten digs his phone out of his pocket, ignoring YangYang’s sharp sound of indignation. “Some of us bet that she was going to file a harassment claim, some thought that you would just lose interest in your crush, some of us thought you would end up together even if just for a hook up. Fucking….. Kun, though, he was the only one to bet that you were secretly together. He had evidence, but we all thought he was reading into it too much just because he’s a romantic.”

Goddammit, Kun.

He could’ve easily revealed this relationship before you or YangYang were ready.

“And which was your bet?” You ask.

Ten frowns slightly. “My bet was that you would just play along with his crush until it faded. I could tell you were more comfortable with him over the last several months, like you would go along with it when he flirted with you.” Ten looks genuinely a bit annoyed, when he says, “As much as I hate to admit this, I didn’t really think you were together; clearly I missed all the signs that Kun picked up on.”

YangYang laughs. “Yeah, well, it helps that Kun was one of the only people that knew about us.”

“What?” Ten exclaims. “Oh, I’m telling the group chat that Kun’s disqualified.”

You open your mouth to stop him, to keep him from exposing your secret to all of the members of NCT. But then you stop, you close your mouth, and you look at YangYang. He’s already looking at you, ignoring Ten’s grumbling in the backseat.

You don’t stop Ten from messaging the others.

Let him tell them.

This relationship isn’t going to be a secret any longer.

No one says anything to you or YangYang about your relationship for the brief duration of the trip.

You rein in his wild frustration and anger at the mob of fans at the airport, convincing him not to go on an angry messaging spree on Bubble. It’s easy enough to dissuade him when you’re sharing his nice, spacious, private room.

The issue comes once you return to Seoul.

Almost as soon as you’ve touched down, you get the message requesting your presence for a meeting with YangYang’s company. Oh shit.

Obviously, you already know what this is going to be about. Your face has been plastered all over the place by YangYang’s fans blasting you online. You’ve tried staying off of social media these last couple days, but any time you have opened anything there it is: clips from every angle of you falling in the airport, of YangYang yelling at the fans, photos of YangYang’s arm around you, and so many posts of people analyzing the moment, and so many people just hating on you.

And they don’t even really know about your relationship with YangYang. They’re only speculating.

But as you take a seat in an intimidatingly large meeting room, you know that speculation on the status of your relationship with YangYang is more than enough to get you both in trouble.

YangYang sits beside you, neither of you touching the other despite how much you want to hold his hand. He’s nervous. You’re nervous.

It goes about as well as you could have hoped for.

Important people file into the room, question you and YangYang about your relationship, the severity of the relationship, how long it’s been going on, all of the questions that seem to be leading to their decision regarding something.

YangYang is reprimanded for how he’d reacted at the airport — yelling at the mob of fans, apparently pushing a couple of them out of the way to get to you, and there’s at least one girl alleging that YangYang grabbed her to yank her out of the way. They hand YangYang an official apology to post on his social medias for the incident.

And then they turn their attention to you.

Finally, YangYang clasps your hand in his beneath the table.

“We just don’t think, given your romantic relationship, that continuing a professional relationship would be proper,” one of the officials says to you. “And we have already reached out to your boss to proceed with termination.”

“You can’t do that!” YangYang angrily jolts to his feet, still holding your hand. “There’s no valid reason to fire her. Us dating hasn’t affected my work or hers this whole time!”

“I’ve made sure from the very start to not let it affect us at work,” you say calmly from your seat. You tug on YangYang’s hand, and he sinks back down beside you. “I didn’t go easily into this relationship with YangYang because I knew from the start, back when he just had a crush on me, that I couldn’t let anything happen because of exactly this issue. The lack of professionalism. I never meant for this to happen, but it did. I didn’t go seeking him out, and although YangYang had a very obvious crush on me for most of the time that we’ve known each other, he didn’t pursue me. It just happened. Feelings grew, our attraction became undeniable, we acted on our feelings. We tried to leave it at that, but…” You look over at YangYang now, needing him to steady you as your voice has begun to shake. “If you’re worried about how it might go if we break up, well, we can draw up a contract or something that if that ever happens, no one will claim that it was harassment or anything like that. We can make a contract that says I’ll quit if we end things, or you can move me to styling a different group or something. Just, please, don’t fire me.”

“We could demand you end this now,” a cold-faced man says. He leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “Just be done with this altogether.”

YangYang scoffs.

“I’m going to be perfectly honest,” you tell all of them gathered around the table. “If you force us to break-up, it won’t last and we’ll just get back together secretly.”

YangYang laughs. “Exactly. I love her, I’m not ending things with her any time soon. No matter what.”

Somehow, the two of you resisting them seems to confuse the officials around the table. Did they really think this could all be resolved so simply?

“I’ll post the apology,” YangYang promises, “But I’m not letting go of her. No matter what happens.” The last part he addresses to you, fully turning in his seat to face you.

“No matter what happens,” you promise him, too.

The seats of power converge at the far end of the table from where you and YangYang sit, and they whisper amongst themselves for several minutes while you sit there in anxious silence.

When they finally separate and return to their individual seats, staring at you and YangYang with their hands folded before them on the table, you want to bite your nails or scream or get up and just leave the room. You feel like a criminal sitting before the judge and jury, awaiting the verdict.

If they choose that your boss should move forward with terminating you, then that’s it. Your career is over. You’ll be blacklisted, and you’ll have to start over as something new.

The woman seated at the opposite end of the table seems to be the one in charge, and she makes the announcement.

She clears her throat, and shifts slightly in her seat.

“We have decided that, given your decision and openness in admitting that splitting the two of you up is pointless, that we’ll not interfere with your relationship, but,” and here your heart skips, ceasing its beating almost entirely until her next words, “I believe our best course of action would be to move you to a different styling team. You can take over styling aespa or NCT Wish, perhaps. We’ll have to have someone find an appropriate team for you, shift some things around.”

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh with relief, leaning over and dropping your face against YangYang’s shoulder. He clings to your hand, squeezing comfortingly.

“We want you, YangYang, to post that apology there.” The woman continues, “And you’ll be on probation for the next few months. Any further issues such as fighting with the fans, inappropriate conduct in general, and you’ll be placed on a temporary hiatus which we’ll excuse as health issues. Understood?”

Certainly.

And you find yourself grateful as you and YangYang voice your thanks to the powerful people, as you leave the room together, as you walk down the hallway to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors close behind you, you turn to YangYang, throw your arms around his shoulders, and drag him into a tight hug. You rest your head against his shoulder, breathing in deeply.

His arms surround you as well, his lips press against the crown of your head. “We’re alright now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He laughs softly, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh about it just yet. “Now all of my coworkers and bosses know about us, what’s there to be so scared of? We’ve still got each other, still got our jobs.”

You draw back so you can look up into his eyes.

YangYang smiles. His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting just as the elevator doors slide open against behind you.

“Oh, God,” comes the exclamation from outside the elevator. “Is this what it’s going to be like now?”

Xiaojun comes inside, Kun and Renjun accompanying him. Xiaojun turns his back to the pair of you. Kun just laughs as he presses the button to close the doors. Renjun looks at the pair of you while he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I almost didn’t believe Ten hyung’s text about this.” Renjun gestures at you both. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, bro. I’d have been so happy for you.”

YangYang’s smiling again, his hand on your hip pulls you a little closer. “If it makes you feel better, we didn’t tell anyone. Kun just figured it out.”

“Because you two weren’t doing a very good job of keeping it hidden.” Kun glances over. “I don’t even want to tell you guys what I had to witness. Dressing room shenanigans.”

Xiaojun’s mouth drops open and he looks at you. “Noona?!”

Your face feels warm, and you hide away in YangYang’s chest again.

“Regardless of shenanigans and secrets,” Renjun says, “I’m happy for you both.”

That’s the same sentiment you get from all of the NCT members in the following days. They’re happy for you and YangYang. Most of the other stylists act surprised, only Hyejin seems totally unsurprised, and she even confesses to you that she suspected as much during that trip home with YangYang. The other members of your styling team, those that worked directly with you for WayV as well as others who you’d only worked with on occasion, all express surprise and even some mild jealousy as well as a lot of wanting to gossip with you. You keep your lips sealed about your private details though since the last thing you want is to have your secrets leaked to any tabloids or sasaengs.

You’re shifted over from WayV to work on styling NCT Dream since your style of styling fits better with them than NCT Wish.

Your relationship with YangYang is not as easy as it was before when your schedules always lined up perfectly, but you keep making it work, making time for each other even if it means fifteen minutes together at your apartment, two minutes in a stairwell at the company, phone calls and video calls while you’re commuting.

The greatest blessing is when Dream and WayV’s schedules overlap or when the company decides to throw all of the NCT units together for a project or anything when one of the Dream members (usually Renjun) participates in something with YangYang.

“Remember you’re here for me and Chenle,” Renjun reminds you when the company remembers that NCT Life is something they can do. The cast for this season is composed of the Chinese members — Kun, WinWin, Xiaojun, Hendery, Renjun, YangYang, and Chenle.

“Of course.” You agree, but also they’re going for a very natural look during this filming, so it’s not like they really required a stylist to come along. Hair and makeup, yes, that makes sense. But your focus has always been on the clothing and accessories. You’re hardly necessary.

Not that you’re complaining.

The first night, after the dinner is done, after they’ve played games, after they’ve gone to bed for the cameras, the cameras get turned off and everyone comes back out to share some drinks before bed. The filming crew and staff members like yourself pack up and trek over to the house where you’re all meant to be staying. A couple managers and the director remain in the house with the members.

And you kind of just hang out until the last minute, until one of the managers sends you a sideways look as YangYang takes you by the hand.

“Can’t even go one night without each other?” Hendery teases as YangYang leads you down the hallway to the tiny single room that he won in their games earlier. “You should let noona go sleep in a real bed, YangYang!”

You both ignore him.

The room he won in the games was easily the worst of the lot. It’s hardly more than a storage closet with only a pallet of blankets and a single pillow on the floor. There’s a single camera mounted in the hallway outside the door because the room isn't big enough to hold the camera and a sleeping pallet at the same time.

“Sorry, noona,” YangYang apologizes as he closes the door behind you both. “If you want to go sleep at the staff house, I understand.”

“Absolutely not. I want you.” You make sure he’s got the door shut, one last glance around the room to double-check there aren’t any cameras in here, and you reach for the plaid button-down shirt he’s wearing.

YangYang grins when you all but rip the shirt open. At least one button does pop off, but you don’t care because his bare chest is revealed.

“I want you,” you repeat to him, and you step closer as you push his shirt down off his arms. You curl a hand around the back of his neck, and YangYang can’t stop smiling as you drag his mouth to yours.

His fingers work your shirt out from where it’s tucked into the waistband of the skirt you’re wearing, lifting your top up by the hem as he bites your bottom lip.

You moan. “Are you gonna be a bad boy, YangYang? Aren’t you still on probation? Do you think fucking me in here when there’s a camera for your reality show right outside the door is appropriate?”

“Didn’t you start this?” YangYang asks, tugging your shirt over your head, and his gaze drops straight to your tits. “Stripping me as soon as the door is shut?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m innocent.” You put on an expression of pure innocence even as you’re reaching back for the clasp of your bra. The fabric drops away.

YangYang’s eyes don’t waver from your chest. He swallows, and then, to your delight, he reaches for you. YangYang lifts you, his arms beneath your ass while you twist your legs around his waist. He backs you against the wall, and his head lowers to your chest.

The first hot swipe of his tongue over your nipple draws a heated gasp from your lips. Your hands fly to his hair.

“YangYang,” you sigh his name, which dissolves into a moan when his lips close around your nipple.

He brings a hand up to your other tit, thumb circling the sensitive nipple, flicking over it, toying with you until you’re squirming between him and the wall, arching your chest into the heat of YangYang’s mouth, breathing heavily for him.

“Noona,” he breathes against your chest. “Don’t hold back for me tonight, okay? Be noisy with me.”

You twist your fingers in his hair enough to elicit a hiss from YangYang. “You’re pushing your limits, you know that? Are you trying to annoy everyone? Or are you just excited to show off how good you make noona feel?”

In reply, YangYang lowers his head again to mouth at your breasts, his hands pressing both of your tits together so he can draw his tongue along the dip between them. His hips roll forward, and you’re pinned entirely between him and the wall. You swear you can hear voices on the other side, just behind you through a few inches of wall.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You ask. “YangYang, you want the others to hear how good you’re fucking me? How I’m only yours? Are you jealous, or something? Who’s in there that you want to show off for?”

He captures your previously neglected nipple lightly between his teeth. He follows that with the soothing heat of his tongue, your nipple sucked into his mouth.

“WinWin ge,” he whispers a moment later when he’s paid enough attention to your nipples to have you feeling quite wet. “WinWin ge was talking about you earlier. He’s been feeling testy lately, and I think I irritated him when we were sent on the grocery trip, so he decided to get back at me by talking about you. Questioning certain parts of our relationship.”

You pull him in for a kiss. “You never need to doubt any part of our relationship, YangYang. I love you, and you have left me sufficiently satisfied every time we’ve been together.”

He snorts. “Even the first time?” He looks doubtful, amused too with the memory of him cumming so quickly the first time you were together.

You nod. YangYang’s lips part as if to voice his doubt of that, but you lift your hand, fingertips tracing his lips as you reassure him, “Yes, you came a little too quickly for my liking that night, but you made up for it. With your lips, your tongue. Even though I tried to change things between us after that night, I hope you know I couldn’t stop thinking of how amazing your mouth felt on me, your tongue inside me.”

This draws his familiar smile into being. “Really? You’ve never told me this.”

You draw your pointer finger over the bow of his upper lip. “I must admit I touched myself a fair few times between that first night and the second, thinking about your head between my thighs, the sweet sounds you made as you got lost in tasting my pussy.”

YangYang’s lips close around the tip of your pointer finger, his teeth just barely grazing your skin.

“I think you’ve got a little bit of an oral fixation, but that’s alright,” you tell him, “because since that first night I’ve honestly been pretty obsessed with your oral skills too.”

“Should I show them to you now again, noona?” YangYang brings his hands back to your thighs, and he steps back from the wall, his hands helping to ease your legs down. Your feet hit the floor. YangYang’s hands rise as the rest of him sinks down to his knees. He bunches your skirt up towards your hips, and you gaze down at him.

You drop a hand to the front hem of your skirt, pinching it between your fingers and drawing it up so you have a clear view as YangYang situates himself comfortably between your thighs. You can feel his breath on the skin of your upper thighs, his hands are warm on your legs, and then one of his hands meets the fabric of your panties.

His fingers are light, gliding along your slit through the material.

“You’re soaking through, noona.” YangYang circles his fingers against the material where it's the wettest. “Do you want me so much? I want to hear you say it.”

“YangYang,” you moan his name. “God, please, I need you.”

There’s his smile again, so pleased to hear that you need him. He leans in, and with your panties still in place, YangYang flicks his tongue over your clit for a second before he really gets to work.

He drags your right thigh up over his shoulder, opening you up a bit more for him, and he sinks closer. Still working over your panties, YangYang does his best to simulate eating you out, his tongue flat against your clit while you whine and roll your hips.

“More,” you hiss. “More, YangYang! I need your tongue.”

He shifts back only long enough to drag your panties down your legs. You hear the elastic snap, a bit of the fabric rips, but then your panties are on the floor behind him, and YangYang’s diving back in, bringing your leg back up to his shoulder.

You tip back until your shoulders hit the wall with a thud matched by the moan you let out as YangYang’s mouth finally comes in actual contact with your pussy.

YangYang devours you, his tongue is magic, spiraling you quickly towards climax.

His arms are there to keep you aloft when your orgasm weakens your knees and your one leg you’ve got to stand on (since the other is draped over YangYang’s shoulder nearly collapses. He keeps eating you out while you cum around his tongue, soaking his chin and lips.

You don’t know or care how much noise you’re making. You’re sure if any of them really care about how loud you’re being, they’ll have no problem coming to the door to voice a noise complaint.

When you can’t take anymore, you have to push YangYang away by the forehead. He gazes up at you with his pupils blown wide like he’s high on the taste of you. His lips and chin glisten in the light. “Noona, you’re my favorite.”

“Favorite what?” You gasp, still catching your breath from the last tremors of this most recent climax.

“Favorite everything.” YangYang’s hands climb up your thighs, and you don’t have the energy to swat away his hand when his fingers find the heat between your legs. Instead, your knees just give out, and you sink down to straddle YangYang’s lap.

Hands on his cheeks, you pull him in. You taste yourself on his lips and chin and tongue. Rivulets of your wetness have trailed over his cheeks, and he moans in soft delight when you trace those faint trails with your tongue.

He’s so hard beneath you, a solid shape in his shorts that you rub against while his fingers press inside your pussy from behind.

YangYang falls backwards, his shoulders hit the floor, and you hold yourself above him, hands planted beside his head. You don’t stop kissing him, unable to get enough of your taste blending with his.

“Fuck me, YangYang,” you murmur. “I want to feel you inside me. I need your cock, fill me up like only you can.”

His fingers leave you empty, but you can feel him fumbling with the basketball shorts he’s wearing. You feel him pushing them down to his knees, feel his hands moving, and then at last you feel the head of his cock against your entrance.

You break the kiss so you can sit up straight, and you sink down on YangYang’s cock.

Your skirt pools around your hips and thighs, shielding from view the place where your bodies join. YangYang, clearly not a fan of not getting to see that, grabs your skirt and pushes it up.

You fumble for the zipper at the side of your skirt, and you unzip it enough that you can drag it up over your head, leaving you entirely naked while you ride your boyfriend.

YangYang and you move in tandem. He lifts his hips to drive into you while you grind down on him. YangYang’s hands rest on your hips and thighs, and you cover his hands with your own, lacing your fingers through his.

“Fuck, noona,” he moans, rocking his hips off the floor, his fingers digging into your thighs.

You lean over his chest, sliding one of your hands along his torso until your fingers are brushing his collarbone. “YangYang, c’mere.”

He jolts up, his mouth on yours again, his tongue sliding against yours messily. You press your chest against his, and you take a seat on his cock, just clutching at YangYang while he holds you and kisses you, neither of you making a move for a moment, just feeling the throb of his cock inside you and the pulsing of your walls around him.

“Love you,” you confess against his lips. “I love you. I love you.”

YangYang, again, smiles. “I love to hear you say that. Especially like this.” He kisses you again, and then suddenly he’s got you beneath him, your back on the floor and YangYang’s hands press against your inner thighs to open you up as they fall to the side.

You rake your fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, over his shoulders and down his chest. YangYang shivers, rolling his hips forward.

“Baby,” you tease, “Cum for me. Show me just how much you love me. Cum deep inside me. Claim me as yours.”

“Am I yours?” He asks, the words breathed over your lips.

“Always.” You lift your head to kiss him.

YangYang covers you with his body, kissing you deeply as he starts moving.

You both take each other apart slowly now, letting the swell of emotions take over as you touch and kiss and just simply enjoy being so close and intimate with each other.

You know you’re not restraining your noises at all. If YangYang does something that feels particularly good, you moan loudly, you gasp, you call his name. He does the same.

And the volume only increases as you grow closer to orgasm.

A thump on the wall.

“Shut the hell up!” WinWin’s muffled voice comes through the wall.

You laugh, and YangYang does too, which does something strange and pleasant to your body to have you both joined together and laughing.

It takes some readjustment before you continue.

YangYang sits up again, and you fix yourself in his lap, facing him with your ankles crossed at his tailbone. You kiss him again, each of you smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths, and you move together. YangYang slips a hand down between your bodies to touch your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves with tight circles of his fingers.

Your orgasm comes hard and fast, stealing your breath away, and hitting you with all the force of a lightning strike. YangYang spills into you immediately after, his climax racing through him.

You cling to each other, just holding each other while you breathe and come down together. Your hearts pound in tandem, chests rising and falling in time with the other.

“That felt so fucking good.” You hug him tightly, resting your cheek on YangYang’s shoulder. “I love you.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “I love you, too. And I don’t want to move, but should we go clean up?”

You sneak to the bathroom down the hallway, and you both shower off quickly, then head back to his tiny closet bedroom. It’s not the most comfortable spot to sleep, but it’s so much more comfortable than the twin bed or air mattress you would’ve had in the staff house because here you’re able to sleep beside YangYang.

You get comfortable, snuggling up to YangYang with one of your legs draped over his and your head pillowed on his arm. You’re happy and sleepy and satisfied.

And you know in the morning the cameras are probably going to catch you sneaking out of YangYang’s room, but anyone who witnesses that or sees it on the raw unedited footage isn’t going to be surprised.

It has always been a well-known fact among the group and the staff members that Liu YangYang has a ridiculously large crush on you. And now, you sleep with a smile on your face knowing that it’s also become common knowledge among them that that crush has become this love.

a/n: it's been a long, long time since I posted parts 1 & 2 of this one, but this part 3 finale has been on my to-do list for a long time. I'm hoping that this is only the first of the ideas that I'll be crossing off my list before the year's over, and I'm hoping that you'll all be here to enjoy them!

If you've read this far, then thank you so much! Likes, reblogs, comments, and messages are forever and always appreciated! They're what keeps me writing and posting on here!

#yangyang #wayv #wayv smut #nct smut #yangyang smut #wayv fic #nct fics #yangyang fanfic

161 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 6 months ago

Note

ok bestie I have a request for my delulu self mwuah

my scenario:

Noah’s your hot neighbor, lives in the apartment across the hall. you’ve really only spoken in passing— to exchange pleasantries and phone numbers, just in case— but you did have takeout with him and his rowdy group of guy friends (Folio, Ruffilo, and Jolly, who else?) when he was first moving in. a thank you for moving one single box (that’s all they let you touch before one of them was grabbing it out of your hands). Noah mumbles something about him not about to let “his pretty new neighbor carry his shit.”

one night you touch yourself to the thought of him, you might moan his name 🤭— he’s not even home half the time, what are the chances he’d hear you? except he does. because he’s home and the walls are thin. and your phone dings with his text.

want some help, sweetheart? ft. Noah sleeping over please!!!

preferably anonymous other than x fem!reader but I like pet names!!! sweetheart, baby, angel are my favorites <33

I know it’s a lot of details, you don’t have to include them all, it’s more so to give you an idea of the vibe 💖💖 utterly filthy but still he’s still a softie and a sweetheart

thank you this is actually so cool of you mwuah

Mmmm we love a good hot neighbor trope, yeah? What a cutie patootie he is, eh?

Mkay, let’s get into this.

After Writing Notes: This man will be the death of me…

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, Noah being an absolute munch 😜

Skin

“Good morning, Angel.” His deep voice rings in my ears, and there he is, as he always is, sitting on his balcony, joint in his hand, guitar perched against the rail. He’s likely writing again, but Christ, does he have to always be out there at 7AM? I hate being up this early, and am never in the mood to speak to anyone.

I just want to sip my coffee, clear my cobwebs, and mentally prepare for my workday. The shop is packed, and my books are completely full, my first session starting at 9AM. I don’t have time for his early-bird antics today, nor the patience.

“Morning.” I grumble between sips of steaming hot coffee.

“Sleep well?” He pushes his joint out in the ashtray, careful not to damage it, obviously saving it for later.

“Mmph.” Is all I can muster while leaning back in my chair, pulling my sweater tighter around me. The crisp October morning has brought about hues of orange and amber in the trees surrounding the building. My favorite time of year.

“Busy day today? Must be if you’re up at this hour.”

I sigh heavily, eyes darting to him. His pale yellow hoodie and black beanie look so perfectly placed.

Noah is attractive, there is no arguing it, but he’s annoying. He’s always so positive and chipper. His friends are always over, as upbeat as he is. They’re in a band, and to be fair, they aren’t bad. They just like to start practicing at 10AM, on Sundays, which are the only days I get to sleep in.

I like them. On occasion, they’ll invite me over for pizza and to watch hockey, which I usually accept. None of them have ever been creepy or made a pass at me, which is so refreshing.

Noah does some mild flirting, using pet names instead of my actual name. Nick let it slip once that it’s because his ex has the same middle name as my first name, and that bugs him. He would rather not associate me with someone like her. I suppose that’s fair, so I’ve let it go. They’re all sweet, non-provocative names anyway.

“All booked today.” I slipped out.

He nodded. “I plan to schedule with you soon.”

I rolled my eyes. “You say that every week, Noah.”

His guitar was now dutifully placed on his lap, his fingers strumming a slow melody. “True, but the struggling musician lifestyle doesn’t exactly come with a wad of cash.”

I smirked. “Told you I’d discount you.”

“Discount as in…free?” I chuckled.

Despite hating his early routine, he usually did manage to perk me up in the mornings.

I stood up, opening the sliding door and slipping inside. “Keep dreamin’, champ.”

The day had been absolutely brutal. My wrists were still vibrating from holding my machine the entire day. I had hoped my last client would be done two hours earlier, but he had to keep taking breaks. Because of that fact, my hands were extra tired, and there was no way I could finish my sketch in preparation for tomorrow’s client, so I had to wake up early again.

Slinging my bag over the back of the couch, I huffed out a groan as I slumped down onto it. Days like today were becoming more and more frequent, and I was exhausted. I needed to clear my books for a week and have a staycation. Do nothing and see no one.

Heaving myself up, I made my way to the bathroom, taking my hair out of the tight bun it had been kept in all day. My fingers scrubbed at my scalp before I turned the water of the shower on.

I let my wrists and hands sit under the scalding spray for what felt like hours, just trying to loosen the joints. Afterwards, I massaged a brutal amount of lidocaine cream on them to ease the tension.

Pouring myself a glass of red wine, I stepped out onto my balcony with my favorite sweatshirt and the latest book my sister had recommended to me. It was a love story with very light smut, so she figured I’d enjoy it. If only she had known the types of stories I read regularly.

Still, I humored her.

Flipping on my porch light, I leaned back on my chair and pulled a blanket from my basket over me, covering my bare legs.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I startled, nearly spilling wine all over the pages.

“Jesus Christ, Noah!”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, I thought you saw me.”

“No, gosh you almost gave me a stroke.”

His eyes peered over the separating railing at me. “Whatcha reading?”

I snorted, taking a gulp of my wine. “Some romance novel my sister keeps bugging me to read.”

He nodded his chin at this, not verbally responding. I noted the beer in his hand, and his eyes peering out at the city below.

I didn’t know Noah well at all. In fact, I knew so little that it was almost freaky, given that I saw him all the time. That’s the price I pay for being closed off. I do, however, know that he doesn’t drink much at all, and typically only does when something is bothering him.

“You okay?” I closed my book around my fingers so as to not lose my place.

He didn’t look up at me or respond, just took a pull from his beer.

No quips or witty remarks? This was even more unlike him.

“Bad day?”

He nodded.

“Want to talk about it?” He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say anything. He just sighed heavily. I pursed my lips, watching as his eyes stayed trained on the lights flickering off in the distance of Los Angeles, entranced in his own mind.

Then an idea sparked. “Oh! I know!” I set my book down, and stood up. He looked at me, finally. “Stay there! I know what you need!”

He quirked an eyebrow and took another swig from his bottle. I ran inside, grabbing the grocery bag inside my work tote, the goodies still untouched from my way home. When I came back out, I reached in the bag, pulling out the yellow package.

“Catch.” I chucked it at him, which he caught one handed. He scanned the bag, and smiled.

“All pink and red Starburst.” He looked back up at me. “You know what I needed.”

I smirked, pulling my other candy out of the bag, Sweettart Ropes, and began munching. He popped the bag of his own candy open and began unwrapping the tiny cubes.

“Now do you want to talk about it?”

Looking down at the wrapper balled up in his hand, he sighed hard, chewing the soft candy.

“We met with our label today.” His beanie from earlier was still on his head, perfectly placed. “They want us to join a tour.”

I chewed my ropes, speaking around the candy in my mouth. “And that’s bad? I thought that was part of being a band? Isn’t that how you make good money?”

He nodded, drinking more of his beer. “It can be, but I’m nervous. And they’re pressuring us.”

“What do you have to be nervous for? You’re super talented.”

He looked over, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “When have you ever heard our music?”

I scoffed. “Every Sunday morning through the paper thin walls.”

This made him laugh, which was a nice sound in comparison to his previously somber tone.

“I just recently started working on my vocals. Our early stuff was mostly all screaming. This last album has singing, though. I don’t feel ready to perform that live.”

I nodded. “Well, you practice, I know that.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that simple. I’ve got to know I can do it. I can’t second guess myself or I fuck up. I know it.” He sighed hard, setting the candy and beer on his table, and pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“Mm,” I swallowed my candy. “is it a crowd thing?”

“I’m not really sure.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “I feel like it’s a being put on the spot, thing? I don’t know.”

I mulled this around. “I see.” I played with the idea in my brain before speaking. “So sing to me.”

His eyes shot up. “What?”

“Sing to me, Noah. Right here, right now.”

“The fuck? I can’t just do that.” He looked bewildered.

“Why not? It’s about being put on the spot. So sing to me.”

Noah stared at me as if I was insane. “What do I even sing? I don’t know any Taylor Swift songs.”

I scrunched my nose up at that. “Gross. No thank you.” He chuckled at that. “Sing me something of yours.”

He shook his head. “You won’t like our music.”

“Sure I do! I know you sing one about lions? Sing me that one!”

He all out laughed then. “The one about lions? Are you kidding?!”

I joined in on his laughter. “It’s the only one I remember.”

He groaned. “You’re serious?”

I sat back in my chair, chewing my candy, silently making it clear I was dead serious. He rolled his eyes and stood up.

“Hang on.” He disappeared inside. I took a large gulp of my wine, and waited.

He returned a few minutes later with his acoustic guitar, the one he usually had in the mornings. He also had taken off his beanie and sweatshirt, his tattooed arms and freshly cut hair on display. Were his arms always so muscular? No, he had definitely been working out.

“Alright, I’ll play you the one about lions, but please don’t laugh if I go off-key?”

I leaned forward, glass in hand, giving him my full attention. “Never.”

He sighed, and strummed the opening riffs of the song. It was slower, and sadder than when I had heard him practice it.

“You set me up as a villain, but you never mentioned the root of the problem. Took what you wanted and flipped it, but you won’t be dragging my name to the bottom.”

Noah’s voice was melodic, perfectly on key.

“So much unsaid. Left me for dead. I won’t forget.”

The song sounded more powerful in this style.

“Well everyone’s listening. And they know the difference. You’re not failing our senses.”

His fingers stopped strumming for a beat.

“If you’re throwing me to the lions, you should know I’m not scared of dying. I wouldn’t take back one thing I did. One word I said, but I’m going to make you wish you did.”

I smiled at the chorus, now remembering why I remember the lions.

“Jump to conclusions, they fall for illusions, but you weren’t there trying to stop them. You’re going low at the end of the road, but that won’t be the path that I follow.”

I finished my wine, setting the glass down and intertwining my fingers.

“So much unsaid, left me for dead. I won’t forget.”

He stopped strumming again, and I noticed he had his eyes closed. He hadn’t opened them once.

“Well everyone’s listening. And they know the difference. You’re not failing our senses.”

“If you’re throwing me to the lions, you should know I’m not scared of dying. I wouldn’t take back one thing I did. One word I said. But I’m going to make you wish you did.”

The chord progression changed leading into the bridge.

“I’m holding on to this until the scale’s untilted.”

He stopped, his pitch rising.

“Well everyone’s listening, and they know the difference. You’re not failing our senses, but you’re pushing my limits.”

“If you’re throwing me to the lions, you should know I’m not scared of dying. I wouldn’t take back one thing I did. One word I said. Oh-whoa.”

I leaned back in my chair, thoroughly enjoying this private show I was receiving.

“If you’re throwing me to the lions, you should now I’m not scared of dying. I wouldn’t take back one thing I did. One word I said. Oh God, I’ll make you wish you did.”

He strummed the final chord and opened his eyes. I was smiling from ear to ear. I clapped my hands together, which made him blush.

“Oh stop.” He set his guitar down, leaning back in his chair and grabbing his beer.

“That was fantastic, Noah!”

He shook his head. “It was okay. I wasn’t on key the entire second chorus.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you always this hard on yourself?”

He smirked. “Always.”

“Please tell me that song is called Lions.”

This made him genuinely laugh. He shook his head. “It’s called Limits.”

“Mm, close enough.” He smirked at me.

“You really liked it?”

I nodded in response. “I did. It was really beautiful.”

His eyebrow raised and his thumb traced the rim of the beer bottle.

“You’re really beautiful.”

My stomach dropped clean out of my body, and my expression stilled. He didn’t waver, however, staring at me with a stern expression.

“Thank you.” Was all I could manage to say.

He nodded in acknowledgement, throwing back the bottle and tossing it into the trash can next to his table.

“Well, it’s past my bedtime. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I smiled. “Bright and early.”

He grinned back. “Goodnight, Angel.”

“Goodnight, Noah.”

I tossed and turned in bed, sleep being the farthest thing from me. I had to get some rest, as I had to be up in less than eight hours, but even the wine hadn’t been able to wash the day off of me.

To be honest, the melody of the song kept ringing through my brain, the image of Noah strumming his guitar flashing past my eyelids.

His arms are so big. He’s actually kind of…buff? He didn’t look like that when he moved in. As much as I loved his long hair, the short hair was so fitting on him, falling loose by his ears.

Before I could stop myself, my hand was snaking down into the waistband of my shorts, fingers ghosting over the top of my clit. An orgasm should help me sleep, right?

As much as I know my rose would make quick work of this, the idea of having another vibrating object in my hand made my wrists ache. I opted to just take my time, fingers circling my sweet spot, and let myself indulge in the idea of my hot neighbor, fingers running over the string of the guitar. Arms flexing when he moved his hand up and down the neck. Throat constricting as the lyrics flowed out of his plump lips.

I could feel myself getting into the idea, my body sinking comfortably into the mattress. Lips parting, I pictured him on the other side of the walls. What did he look like shirtless? Was his chest as muscular as his arms? Did his tattoos spread all the way to his chest?

My fingers applied more pressure, making me squirm, and a soft breath left my lips. I wanted to be quiet, but I was alone. Did it matter?

Noah is likely sleeping, so I doubted that he would be able to hear anything.

I let a moan escape, letting one finger dip between my lips and feel how the moisture had built up at the thought of him. My pussy ached at the idea of his hands, long fingers pressing into me. I would bet he could hit my sweet spot with the first knuckle. I gasped hard, my hips bucking at the thought.

“Oh fuck.” I groaned, my mind drifting even further.

If his fingers were that long, how long was the rest of him? Did his cock size up to his gargantuan stature? What would it feel like? Would it hurt? Would it stretch? Likely, given I hadn’t been intimate with anyone for at least eight months. Would riding him be possible?

“Mmm,” I licked my lips at the image. “God, Noah.”

His name slipped out, and for a split second, I almost blushed, until I remembered it was just me.

That is, until I hard my phone chime on my nightstand.

I groaned, stilling my hand and growling. I was so close, and now it was gone. I snatched my phone, but my body froze when I saw the text on my screen.

Noah: Having fun over there, sweetheart?

My brain melted, completely mortified. Why was he awake?! He went to bed an hour ago!

I couldn’t respond, wishing I could sink into a hole in the mattress and disappear.

His type bubble appeared, and my heart rate sped up.

Noah: You’ve been at it a little while. Sounds like you may need a hand?

What do I even say to that? Am I okay with that? The heat between my legs screamed at me, telling me to take him up on his offer, but my brain put the brakes on.

We are neighbors. Did I want to change that dynamic? Did I want to tempt the fates?

I’m not, and have not been, in a place where I wanted to be in any kind of relationship/situationship/friends with benefits agreement right now. What did inviting him over mean?

Or was it that deep? Did I need to think about it that hard?

Me: Back door’s unlocked.

My finger hovered over the send button for a good 30 seconds before finally getting the nerve to press send. Once I had, I practically threw my phone across the room in hysteria.

What had I done?

After a moment, I heard a sound of a mattress creaking and shifting, and the sound of his sliding door.

Holy fuck.

My room was pitch black, so the light trailing in to the room from the moonlight was disrupted when his tall silhouette appeared. The door slid open smoothly, and he stepped in.

Instinctively, I reached over and tapped on the lamp on my bedside table, propping myself up on my elbows.

There he stood, hair just slightly messy from his pillow, shorts hanging low on his hips, and no tshirt.

Well, that answers my question. His chest and abdomen were covered in colorful, beautiful tattoos. Behind them, his muscles were chiseled and tight.

“You good, angel?”

He stood, and leaned his back against the wall, arms behind his back.

I guess my expression had been confusing, so I shook my head.

“Yeah, just a little embarrassed.”

This made him smile. “You shouldn’t be.”

“No? How much did you hear?”

With this, he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps to the bed, sinking down on the edge next to my leg.

“Oh, not too much.” His hand reached out and his palm ran over my duvet. “Just you moaning my name.”

His eyes flicked up at me from under his lashes.

That was it. I was dead. My face turned a deep crimson and I threw my head back, pulling the pillow over it, praying it would just suffocate me.

This made him chuckle. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s humiliating!”

He snorted. “I find it extremely flattering.��

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” My words were muffled by the pillow.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to come over.”

I pulled the cover from my face and scoffed. “Oh sure.” I put my hand up to my ear to mimic a telephone. “Hey Noah! I know we’ve never had any kind of sexual contact - ever - but would you by chance come by and help me get off so I can get some sleep, since I can’t seem to quit thinking about you?”

“Sounds good to me, I don’t see the problem.” His smile was so mischievous. I couldn’t help but sheepishly grin.

“Noah-“

He cut me off. “How many times have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

My mouth hung open. “This is the first time…”

He nodded, his hand sliding along the blanket and closer to my leg underneath.

“What changed?”

I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve lived next door for six months. Why are you attracted to me now, all of a sudden?”

“I’ve always found you attractive.”

He smirked, his hand slipping up over my calf, applying a small pressure. My skin tingled.

“Then the feeling is mutual.” He sighed, looking up at me. “But tonight was different?”

“I just…” I shrugged, rolling onto my side, which pushed my body closer to him. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you singing. Playing the guitar.”

His hand moved up, sliding to my hip and resting there. “Ah, okay. So I serenaded you, and you couldn’t resist?”

This made me giggle. “Gosh, you’re such a dork.”

He snickered, scooting himself closer to me. “Mm, maybe. But it doesn’t change the fact that you were thinking about me.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Suddenly, the air was thick, and he was leaning closer to me. I leaned my head back, giving him full view of my face. When he was close enough that I could feel his breath brushing across my lips, his eyes searched mine.

“This can just be a one-night thing if you want?”

I bit my bottom lip, and nodded gently.

I felt the skin of his lips press into me as my eyes closed, and I molded, form-fitting to him easily. He shifted, his body laying sideways next to me. Noah’s hand reached up and grasped the side of my face, pulling my body in closer to him.

I couldn’t feel or hear anything but the sound of his soft breathing against me, and the pressure of his hips pressing directly against mine.

His hand fell from my face and grabbed my leg by the back of the knee, hiking my leg up to hook on his hip, pulling my body into him even further. The press of his erection behind his shorts provided the sweetest friction against my pussy, still clothed by my shorts.

He groaned into my mouth, and I bucked my hips against him, begging for more contact.

Making out with Noah was more fun than I had imagined. He licked at my tongue, and I tasted the mint toothpaste he had used right before bed. His lips made the most delicious sounds when they sucked and pulled on mine, it had my head twirling in so many different directions.

All of my fantasies were replaying in my brain. His hands, his arms, his chest. My hands began wandering down his body, feeling every last ridge of muscle he had. I felt the ripple of his skin when he flexed, his body so warm and inviting.

He pulled his lips off of mine to look down at me, eyes dark and full of what had to be desire.

“What do you want me to do?”

What kind of question was that? Wasn’t it obvious?

“What?” I felt as though I was missing some hidden meaning.

He shifted, his body now looming over me, and I laid back flat on the bed so I could look directly at him.

“What…” He leaned down to kiss my lips. “do…” Kiss to my jaw. “you…” Kiss to my throat. “want me…” Kiss on my collarbone. “to do?”

I was panting, my need to feel him against my skin causing a hot burn everywhere I couldn’t.

“I, uh” His lips were attached to my neck, nipping and sucking on the skin of the tattoo etched there. “I don’t know. I just need to feel you.”

He pulled back, eyebrow raised, and smirked.

“Well,” He huffed a breath, running a finger down the skin of my chest above the tank top I wore. “I could pull this off of you.” His hand palmed over my breasts, his thumb tracing around my hard nipple. “Suck on these until you’re begging me for more.”

His eyes glanced up at me, and I just stared at him, eyes blown wide, trying to beg with my stare.

“Or…” His hand lifted off of my chest, and swiftly reached down, grabbing hold of the waistband of my shorts. “I could bury myself between those thighs,” My legs shook at the thought. “and lick you until you’re begging me to stop?”

My hand tightened on his sides, my hips pressing up toward him.

He leaned down again, licking a stripe up my throat. “Then, when you’re a hot, shaking, whining mess, I could fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

I moaned, his hand slipping down to tangle in the small patch of hair I had above on my pubic bone. “How’s that sound, baby girl?”

“So fucking good.” I felt his lips smile against my throat.

“You’ve made it easy for me. You’re not even wearing panties.”

I huffed out a small laugh, letting my eyes fall closed. “Yeah, well maybe I was hoping this would happen.”

“Is that right?” His kisses were moving down my body, his hand pulling my breasts free from my shirt. “Knowing you were over here thinking of me had me so fucking hard, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea.”

Noah’s tongue began circling around my left nipple while his hand massaged the other, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

He only focused on my chest for a moment before moving downward, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down my stomach, leaving a particularly hard one on my hipbone.

“So fucking sexy, angel. I won’t lie, I’ve thought about you before.” His fingers pulled my shorts down and off with no hesitation, his body settling between my legs.

“I’ve touched myself, dreaming about this gorgeous fucking pussy.” Noah placed a soft, gentle kiss on my inner thigh. “I can see how wet you are from thinking about me, baby. I hope you’re fucking ready.”

I didn’t have time to question what that meant, as his lips were now attached to my clit, the tip of his tongue circling it expertly while his lips sucked hard. My back arched off of the bed, the sensation nearly knocking me sideways.

“Fuck!” I screamed out, hand burying itself in his dark brunette hair. “Oh my God, Noah.”

“That’s it, gorgeous,” He licked at me, lapping up the fluid pooling between my lips. “fuck my face, pretty girl.”

My hips rutted forward, pressing myself into his lips harder. His arms circled my thighs, locking me into place while his mouth absolutely ravaged me at my core.

My entire body was vibrating, my eyes locked on his beautiful face, eyes closed and so focused.

I could feel myself beginning to crest on the edge of my orgasm, and his name came out as a string of prayers off my lips.

“Ugh, Noah…Noah…Noah…”

Without warning, he lifted me hips off of the bed, bringing himself to kneel on the mattress, so only my upper back and head were left on the pillows. The angle brought an entire new level of sensation. His tongue assaulted my clit, flipping back and forth from kitten licks to long, flat strokes, making me dizzier with each repetition.

“Noah, I’m going to come.” I breathed out, and his eyes opened, looking directly at me. His head began to move back and forth ever so slightly, him now locked onto my sweet spot. The ministrations sent me so far over the edge, I felt as though my entire body was floating.

“Oh fuck! Noah! Jesus fuck!”

He didn’t stop, however. Although he was licking me carefully through my climax, he didn’t show signs of slowing down…

“It’s sensitive. Please, I can’t take anymore.”

He disconnected from me for a second to smile deviously. “Sure you can.” And he continued.

“No, please, it’s too much.” I could feel tears welling in my eyes.

He pulled off of me, laying me back down, with a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips. “The safe word is lions. Use it if you need it.” And he was back to it, making my vision go white.

“Noah, oh God, I can’t handle it, please!”

“You can, and you will.” His voice was factual, leaving no room for argument.

Just as I was about to protest again, I felt his tongue stop, and a sinfully long finger pressed into me, bringing about an entirely new sensation.

“Jesus Christ.” I was struggling to breathe.

“That’s it, baby. You’re so good, taking it all the way in. You’re so fucking perfect.”

My walls tightened around him at his words.

“It’s so fucking tight, baby. I’m almost worried it’s going to hurt when I fuck my name out of your mouth…” He looked up again, pressing a second finger in, a burning sensation pulsing through me. “…almost.”

My chest heaved, my breathing erratic and unstable. It was too good. It hurt so perfectly. His hand began pumping in and out of my body, causing loud, wet sounds.

“Going to make a mess, baby? I’d hope you’d wait until you were in my bed for that.” I couldn’t feel anything but his fingers inside me, driving me to insanity. “Thats alright, I’ll clean up. Go ahead and let go, honey. Come for me.”

An ear splitting screech ripped out of me, my body being rocked by another hard orgasm. His hand slowed, his fingers slipping out eventually.

“So fucking pretty. You got me all wet, I can’t tell you how fucking hot that was.”

I laid, eyes closed, working to bring myself back down to Earth. I wasn’t given much of a chance before I felt his tongue lapping at me again, making me squeal and jerk away from him.

“Nope.” His hands pulled me back to him. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The tears in my eyes were running. “Noah, please. Please!”

“I haven’t heard the safe word.” His face was buried in my folds, tongue pressing inside me. “You can do it baby, just one more, okay? I need one more.”

My head fell back on the pillows, savoring the soft, slow swipes of his tongue against me. It was almost…relaxing? He wa easing me through it, building me back up.

“Okay baby, you ready for another?”

I didn’t dare look at him, only nodded my head.

His fingers slipped back in, curling at the spot that makes my toes curl, and latched onto me again, his lips sucking hard on my clit.

This orgasm came quicker, washing over me like ocean waves hitting high tide. This time, I only managed to sigh hard when it hit me, feeling so wonderfully exhausted.

“That’s my girl. Perfect.”

I felt him lift up, but I still couldn’t make eye contact. My eyes were so heavy, and I couldn’t even fathom movement.

The bed dipped down next to me, and I cracked my lids to see him smiling. He reached down and kissed my cheek lovingly.

“Still there, Angel?”

I smiled a sleepy grin, and nodded. “That was…” There were no words. They didn’t exist.

“I’m glad you enjoyed.” I felt the blanket being pulled over me, and I opened my eyes in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

He chuckled lightly. “You need to get some sleep, beautiful. I know I talked a big game, but you’re exhausted. That was the goal.” He smoothed a hand over my stomach. “Help you get some rest.”

I rolled on my side, pouting slightly. “What about you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be just fine.”

His hand reached over and switched the light off on the nightstand. He moved to stand up, by my arm came out to grab his. He turned his head and looked at me.

“Could you…” I cleared my throat. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? Even though it’s just one night?”

I smirked, lifting the blanket for him to crawl under. With his own grin, he did so, lifting his arm so I could tuck in, head laid on his chest and arm falling over his stomach.

“Maybe it's more than just one night.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

Text

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

concept from this post

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peaches-cs · 8 months ago

Text

Expresso(John Soap MacTavish x Reader)

Summary: Johnny will be the first to admit that after years in the military he has a few screws loose. Or it might’ve been because of the bullet wound he took to the head. Sure he knows what he’s doing isn’t healthy. Call it obsession and delusion if you will. But, now he’ll do anything just to spend another second in your company. You belongs to him, you just don’t know it yet.

Warnings: John Soap MacTavish x reader, 18 +, Dark mature themes, unhealthy relationships, gore, violence, eventual smut(may have Non-Con), Dub-Con, kidnapping, stalking, creepy behaviors, death, F.Reader, Café AU but dark and twisted

Part 1

It wasn’t until recently Johnny has discovered just how challenging readjusting to civilian life would be. Of course such a drastic change would be difficult for anyone. Especially since he wasn’t supposed to be discharged so early. It was unexpected. The man is antsy. He hates sitting still, as he’s been forced to do since he took a bullet to the head. Between neurology appointments and physical therapy he’s been bound to his apartment for months. There’s an itch in his skin, the need to have some kind of busy routine to get through the endless bland and boring days of spring. His mum even came to visit him, helped take care of him after he acutely lost his ability to walk properly and speak in clear sentences. Even his memory was affected for a while.

Eventually his doctor gave him the okay to try finding employment. He’s gotten most of his functions back up to par, but sometimes he gets nasty migraines that make him want to vomit. As soon as he returned home from that same appointment, he grabbed his lap top and plopped down on his couch to begin job hunting.

It sounds perfect. Something to fill that empty void in his life even though he gets enough money due to military benefits and disability to let him live without a job. Being a Sergeant paid comfortably too. So, money is not truly a problem. After an hour of lazily searching with a glass of whiskey in his hand through different positions of different opportunities, he doesn’t find any that sounds appealing.

Johnny groans and sets aside his lap top, stretching his arms above his head before standing up. He scratches his stomach while walking lazily to the fridge. After tugging open the door, he narrows his eyes and huffs in annoyance at the emptiness inside of it. Time to go shopping.

After pulling on jeans and a basic black Tee, he takes the elevator down to the lobby of his apartment complex and exits the building. Swinging his set of keys around his index finger, he strolls down the sidewalk. He slows after spotting a quaint little café up ahead. He always passes it on his way to the shop. Except this time the now hiring sign catches his eye. Now that he’s retired from the military permanently, the man’s got a hell of a lot of time on his hands. So, he opens the door and enters, looking around curiously.

He strolls into the homey little building and is instantly hit with the smell of chocolate mixed with coffee. It’s cozy and warm, with windows that look out into the city and green plants in pots seated by them. The lights glow a warm yellow and the walls are painted a medium dark brown. It’s not busy, as expected due to the time of day being late morning. The early rush has clearly dissipated.

What really captures his attention is the lass behind the counter, busying herself with cleaning the counters in the coffee making area. When she hears him come in due to the bell at the top of the door, she turns around and meets his gaze with a smile that has his skin slightly flushing. She’s a pretty thing dressed in a black apron. He keeps his eyes on her face. Hell, he deserves a medal for not looking…lower.

“Can I help you, sir?” She asks in a sweet voice, using one of those higher pitched customer service tones. He gives her a lopsided grin and nods his head. Oh she could help him in a lot of ways, he thinks as he finally gives in and lets his eyes briefly flicker over her figure. The way the apron is tied around her accentuates her waist, tits, and hips. Such a bonnie thing she is.

Call it rash or dumb, Johnnys never been good at planning ahead- or thinking with his brain rather than his dick. Especially when cute little lassies like her are involved. She seals his decision in an instant when she looks at him with her pretty eyes. He points his thumb in the direction of the help wanted sign on the window.

“Aye, I’m interested in applyin for a job”

——————

Today was a usual day. Nothing special, nothing grand, morning rush was awful as always, and then you have class later after work. You hum to yourself as you clean up any spilt coffee beans or creamer by the machines. Finally, you get some peace now that the busiest time of day has passed.

Sadie, the old lady who owns this café and lives in an upstairs apartment above the restaurant, has trusted you to run pretty much everything by yourself. Well, you and Aiden whose a coworker of yours that became your friend that’s off today. You’ve been working for Sadie since…well your beginning year of college. Now you’re a senior, about to finish the spring semester.

Since her daughters and sons moved away, Sadie’s been alone. When you waltzed into her café, nearly begging for a job she took you in a heartbeat. She’s like a grandmother to both you and Aiden. However, you can never be here all the time and neither can Aiden, so you told her that it would be best to get another employee on board to handle things. Thus, this has resulted in a little help wanted sign being placed in the window of the café.

What was supposed to be a normal shift takes a turn when a nearly six foot hulking man built with bulky muscle and adorning an overgrown Mohawk saunters into the café. You’re not blind, he’s clearly attractive in a boyish yet gruff way. Some scars on his chin are visible. He’s got tan skin and beautiful blue eyes. He seems older than you. While you’re twenty two, he looks to be somewhere between late twenties, possibly thirty.

“Can I help you, sir?” You ask as he approaches the counter and you set down the cleaning supplies you were using. He gives you a playful smirk, one that gets your heart fluttering a bit. You stand in front of the register and get prepared to take his order.

“Aye, I’m interested in applyin for a job, '' He replies, scottish accent strong in his voice. You yourself have an American accent since you grew up in the states before deciding to move here to the United Kingdom. His words shock you for a moment, your lips pat in surprise.

“Oh! Got it, let me go grab the application paper for you to fill out” You give him a grin, relieved that someone actually decided to show interest for the barista position. Anyone would literally do. You’ve been waiting for the day someone came to apply and finally you’d get some extra help around the cafe. “I’ll have you fill this out and then I’ll just have a small interview to conduct after I give it a read” You tell him while snatching an application form off of the wall that’s clipped to a clipboard. After getting a pen from your breast pocket, you hand it to him.

Your fingers brush his for a moment when you pass him the pen and application. Something slightly uneasy though stirs in your stomach when his hand lingers against yours a little too long. You gently pull away.

“Yev got it lass” He responds and tucks the clipboard underneath his arm, holding the pen in that same hand. With his free arm, he extends it to you. The pure muscle rippling from underneath his tight shirt that stretches across his broad chest is crazy. “The names Johnny by the way, pretty lil place yeh got here” He greets. You place your hand in his and he shakes it gently, making you feel the rough calluses and collection of scars on his skin. His gaze flickers from your face down to where your hands connect.

“Oh it’s all thanks to Sadie, she owns this place not me” You explain while letting go of his hand. Your elbows rest on the counter as you stare up at Johnny, leaning over the counter slightly.

“Where is she at?” He asks while glancing around the empty café, running a hand through his Mohawk as he does so.

“Sadie’s at a doctor's appointment, I fear she is getting older” You sigh softly and glance at the ceiling where you know her apartment is above. You’ve been up there countless times to help Sadie with little things such as errands and carrying groceries.

“Ah, makes sense. Will I need to win her approval to get hired? Does she take bribes?” He jokes with a goofy smile that makes you giggle softly and shake your head. Your shoulders relax a bit.

“The only one you need to impress is me….and yes I do take bribes” You smirk slightly before turning around to finish cleaning up some things, your back facing him as he chuckles at your comment. “Have you ever worked as a barista before?” You ask while placing a new garbage bag over one of the cans hidden under the counter. A man like him coming to work at a tiny little café? He is the least likely person you’d expect to be interested in a job at a cozy hole in the wall like this.

“Oi has the interview process already started? I haven’t even filled out the application” He has a playful whine in his tone. You place your hands on your hips as you turn to face him.

“I lied, It truly started the moment you walked in and asked to apply” You tease.

“Well…ah suppose I’ve never been a barista in meh life, nor have ah worked in a café” He says as he glances down at the application, twirling the pen in his opposite hand as he holds the clipboard in the other. He glances up at you, eyes finding yours as he grins with his perfect white teeth. “But, I’m a very quick and…efficient learner lassie” He says that last part lowly, tone dropping an octave before he turns around on his heel and sits himself down in one of the chairs near the window to get started on his application.

—————

He watches her like a hawk, vaguely aware that he’s being a bit creepy by staring at her unblinking as she reads his application. Yet she’s so distracted she doesn’t even notice. He likes her already. Fuck. He swears his pupils dilate when she runs her tongue over her bottom lip while she focuses on her task. Makes him wonder how good she’d be with her mouth wrapped around his cock. God. He needs to get laid. Sure on base he wasn’t prone to Messing around with barracks bunnies or nurses from the med ward. And yes there are dating apps and shite specifically designed for hookups, but he hates going on those sites. He hasn’t been clubbing in a long while too. Needless to say his interaction with women has been…zero within the last six months.

Johnny is snapped from his thoughts after she gently sets the clipboard down with another bright smile. The interview was short and sweet, the basic questions were asked and he answered them. Johnny knows people. He knows how to work them. How to appeal to them. It all came with learning how to efficiently go undercover for certain missions.

“Okay, your charms have wooed me. You’re hired Johnny” She says and crosses her arms over her chest. He wonders why she said yes, especially since he has no experience whatsoever being a barista. But, he has an inkling that it had something to do with when she read over a particular question that asked what he did before he wanted to work at the café. Johnny was truthful, putting that he was medically discharged from special forces.

He noticed the slight frown on her lips and the way those pretty eyes were glazed over with sympathy for him while she read it. Pretty and nice, a lovely combination. Johnnys always gone for her type. Clearly studious from the textbooks lying behind the counter, medical related ones. A university student for sure. She’s a hard worker and he admires that.

“Thanks bonnie, seriously, thank yeh” Johnny decided to play up the part. He wants more sympathy points from her. He likes seeing her worried about him, makes his heart flutter at the thought of having a pretty lil thing like her concerned about his well being. “Life’s been pretty…hard since I’ve been discharged, wanted this job to make some money and have somewhere to actually be…homes lonely” He shrugs, a ‘sad’ smile on his lips.

“It does sound rough…I’m sorry'' She says and gets up from the chair, placing a hand on his strong shoulder. From how close she is he can smell her perfume and it makes him want to bury his face in her neck to get a better whiff. “I hope things get better, if you need anything tell me” She offers with a kind grin. He wonders if she tastes as sweet as she acts. “You can start with me for tomorrow's morning shift for training, sound good?” She asks him.

“Sounds absolutely perfect bonnie” He replies and leans back in the chair, eyes focused on the way her ass moves while she walks away to the back of the counter to start closing. In one afternoon he’s somehow managed to find a nice little job…and some entertainment too.

——————

You’re surprised when Johnny stays with you until close, yapping away as you put things away and clear off tables to clean them up. The café closes at 4 PM every evening. You’ve tried your best to get rid of him. He literally refuses to go and you’ve run out of excuses to get Johnny to leave. He follows you around like a puppy. Hell, even when you’re outside locking up for the night he stays standing right beside you. With only spending four hours with Johnny, you’ve learned a lot about the man.

While overwhelming…it iis sort of nice. Besides, you remember what he said earlier about adjusting to civilian life again. You feel bad…he must be lonely. He served his country, the least you could do is provide some company for him.

“So you don’t have any family here in the city?” You ask, bag slung over your shoulder as you yank the key from the keyhole in the door. Johnny shakes his head no.

“Nah lass, they all live on the countryside-on the farm” He sighs while shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“No girlfriend? Boyfriend? Friends?” You try to pry further. If he has no one to go home to, that just makes you even more sad. Well, while you own your shitty little apartment not far from your university, at least you’ve got friends to fall back on for company.

“Nope” Johnny says with a shrug. “All my friends are deployed lassie, I’m all alone-. As for a girlfriend…I’m taking applications if yer interested bonnie” His lips curl into a smirk. Your heart does a little flip at the boyish grin he shoots your way.

“Haha very funny, now go home you’ve been here for hours!” You tell him and cross your arms over your chest. Admittedly, your social battery is a bit low at the moment, especially considering you’re going to have to study until bed tonight. That thought alone makes you irritable and exhausted already.

“And not walk yeh home? The city is a dangerous place!” Johnny exclaims, dramatically looking at the alley ways in the immediate area. Despite being socially tired, Johnny's playful demeanor does make you crack another smile.

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself” You assure while showing him the pepper spray connected on a metal ring that holds your keys for work and home. Johnny blinks at the sight of the tiny defense weapon before scoffing, raising a single brow at you.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Someone could easily snatch yeh off the street- that wee thing of pepper spray won’t do much, common I’m walkin yah” He finalizes and shoots down any argument you’ve begun preparing in your head. A frown forms on your lips and with a sigh, you begin walking in the direction of your apartment. As you brush past him, you’re acutely aware of the hand he hovers over your lower back.

The situation is weird. Johnnys nice and he hasn’t given you any reason to be wary of him…but maybe he’s being too nice. It begins to process in your head as the two of you walk down the street that you’ve only just met four hours ago and now he’s walking you to your apartment. He stayed with you an extra FOUR hours until close, just sitting there watching you and making conversation. Is that not a little strange or are you overthinking things?

Eventually you arrive at your apartment. Those little red flags are shoved to the back of your mind. He’s just being nice probably.

“Well…thanks, see you tomorrow morning Johnny” You smile and readjust your bag over your shoulder. Johnny looks elated at the moment. You wonder why, but don’t question it.

“Night lass” He gives you a wave as you start to enter the apartment complex you live in. Little do you know as you make your way up the stairs, he’s watching the windows to try to see what floor of the building you live on.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x y/n #John soap MacTavish x y/n #John soap MacTavish x reader #johnny

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