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writerpeach · 1 year ago

Text

Insatiable

IVE Yujin x m!reader

17k+ words

Part two of Overindulgent

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Read on AFF

You shouldn’t have slept in so late.

The sun’s been up for hours now, but you’ve tried your best to ignore it piercing through the curtains. It doesn’t help that you’re all wrapped up in sheets that don’t even belong to you—sheets that still smell like last night, that smell just like Yujin. You don’t even know what time it is, and if you were to check your phone right now, you’d see at least a dozen snoozed alarms. It’s late enough that you know you’ve already missed your first class, and if you don’t leave the sheets, you’ll miss your second. But you can’t be bothered to move a muscle when you’re so comfortable, so warm, so enveloped in Yujin’s warm embrace.

Sleeping the entire day away sounds like a great option, but you can feel Yujin stirring awake as evident from the gentle kiss she plants on your cheek. You don't want to wake up. The only thing you want is to fall back asleep and ignore everything.

It’s not like you’d miss anything important, but Yujin remains persistent, with soft lips peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses that are much too tender for you to resist.

"Yujin, it’s too early," you mumble, voice hoarse and heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s almost noon. Did I wear daddy out too much?” Yujin asks, with sleep still caught in her voice, and you can hear the way she’s smiling without even looking at her beautiful face.

“Noon is still early. Let me sleep.”

Your request falls on deaf ears, because Yujin continues her assault of affection and you can feel her arms pulling you closer to her warm body. You try to suppress the groan that bubbles up in your throat when her lips find that one spot behind your ear, that one spot that has the best chance of waking you up and getting you going.

"What do I get in return?" she teases, and you can hear her cute giggles.

“Nothing,” you reply, without missing a beat.

"Not even a kiss?"

"No."

"That's not fair, daddy,” Yujin whines and squeezes you tighter, burying her head into your neck to inhale your scent before kissing your skin all over again. You want to protest again, but those lips are doing wonders against your body and she's doing everything she can to get you to wake up.

Yujin is relentless, but just like her younger roommate Wonyoung, always ends up getting what she wants, anyway. So you give in, grumpier than ever, and roll over to face her, putting down all your barriers. “One kiss.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Yujin just grins, leans forward to seal your lips with hers, then kisses your cheek, your forehead, and the tip of your nose.

“I said one—“

“That was one kiss. One kiss on each part of daddy’s cute face.”

You want to roll your eyes at her, but Yujin’s so goddamn adorable this early in the morning, like waking up to a puppy staring at you, that you can’t possibly stay annoyed for long.

“Fine. I‘ll get up.” It doesn't take much to convince you when it's her, so reluctantly you get out of bed with Yujin attached to your arm, rubbing your sore muscles with a gentle touch. You’re still in her bedroom, so it doesn’t take long for you to spot the pile of discarded clothes scattered across the floor, but you only bother to grab your shirt, since you’ve slept in your boxers, and pull it over your head, just enough to make yourself look presentable.

Yujin giggles behind you, and you give a still sleepy glance at her over your shoulder, watching the pretty smile on her face extend in a way that brings you out of your sleep-fueled daze. She kisses your neck one last time, then disappears inside her giant closet, re-emerging in a tank top and the shortest booty shorts you've ever seen on her. Yujin's never had much of a problem of showing herself off, which is a blessing because that sculpted body of hers is something else.

“Stop staring, daddy,” she playfully says, but you know she loves the attention, and she could have picked any other outfit than something that leaves so little to the imagination.

“You wanted me awake, now I’m awake.” You don’t even try to hide the way your eyes wander her body, how her top barely covers up her midriff, and how those black shorts ride up and hug the soft flesh of her cheeks so well. There’s nothing sexier than Yujin’s confidence, which fuels your gaze that continues to be shameless, mapping out the curves of her body, and you can’t look away for a second, not when Yujin puts herself on display like this.

“I’ll go make some coffee, daddy.”

Yujin spins on her heels and gives you an even better view of that plump backside that practically swallows up the tiny shorts that serve to highlight the fullness of her thighs. Her tight butt bounces with every step, and it’s downright mesmerizing as she makes her way downstairs towards the kitchen. You're following right behind, eyes glued to Yujin’s delicious body, to the way those wide hips sway—and it’s way too early to be drooling over her like this, but you can’t help it.

When you take a seat at the kitchen island, Yujin pulls out two coffee mugs out from the cabinet and starts the process of grinding the coffee beans. Before you met her, you survived off the cheap stuff from the cafeteria, because you don’t know the first thing about making coffee (it tasted horrendous but got the job done). Still, watching the way Yujin goes through the routine, it’s all very meticulous and fascinating at the same time, how effortlessly it all seems when she’s filled the room with the rich scent of fresh coffee. After only a few minutes, the entire process is done, and Yujin is expertly pouring brewed coffee into your mug from a French press, like she’s been doing this her whole life. It feels so domestic, and it’s a wonderful start to the day.

“Here you go, daddy." Yujin places the warm mug in front of you, then puts a couple sugar cubes in it to add just a little sweetness, stirring it with a smile. She knows your tastes perfectly by now, and even though you’re always teased for how you take your coffee, you’d drink it black if you had to, just because she’s the one to make it.

The first sip is like heaven, but you don’t expect anything less, and it has you closing your eyes, leaning back in your chair with a deep sigh of appreciation.

“Thank you,” you say, taking another sip of the rich beverage as Yujin settles herself right beside you. “It’s delicious.”

Yujin doesn’t even bother to sip from her own mug, instead basking in the steam’s aroma, and she’s more interested in watching you drink, watching the enjoyment in your eyes after every sip. You drink your coffee with the littlest of sips, both to savor the taste, and to not burn your tongue while you cradle your mug, waiting for it to become a more acceptable temperature.

"You know what would be even more delicious?" Yujin asks, nuzzling her face into your neck, and you’re almost scared to answer her, because you already know where this is going.

“No, I don’t,” you say with much hesitation. “What?” The last word rolls off your tongue with feigned ignorance, but you already know what Yujin is about to say as you take another sip.

“Breakfast. Do you want some breakfast, daddy?”

While it might be worded like one, you know it’s not an innocent question.

Waiting for her to drop the pretense, the grip on your mug tightens at Yujin’s words. Before you can bother responding, Yujin steals your mug and moves it away from the edge of the counter, hopping up to take its place on the island herself.

“I’ve got something daddy loves to eat,” Yujin purrs, with a smirk that tugs on the corners of her lips. Her thighs spread apart on the counter, those ridiculous long legs dangling off the island, and those shorts look so thin without any underwear underneath that you can clearly make out the outline of her cunt.

“I’ve barely started drinking my coffee,” you say with false annoyance, as you try not to salivate, yet all you can do is envision yourself in between those thick thighs, squeezing your head enough to deprive you of air.

“But don’t I taste better?” Yujin tries to entice you by rubbing her inner thighs, trying to lure you towards what she has planned. For now, you resist, remaining calm in your chair, sipping on your coffee and doing everything to deny Yujin’s seductive advances.

Ignoring her question is the only real option here, even while she’s tantalizing you with those legs spread so obscenely wide, it’s impossible not to stare. You’ll fold eventually, but you have to pretend that you have the upper hand. Yujin knows you too well by now, knows what works and what doesn’t, so she tries another approach, knowing you can’t stop staring at those alluring legs that activate all the right spots in your brain.

During your next sip, you feel Yujin’s feet caressing your crotch through your boxers, while her toes flex around your hardening shaft that causes you to nearly choke on your coffee. Yujin knows how to apply the right amount of friction to get your full attention, and the moment those gorgeous soles are teasing your growing cock, you’ve lost all interest in your coffee.

Yujin doesn’t say a word. She just playfully wiggles her toes around your length, squeezing it a little harder, adding just a little more friction. It takes a moment to compose yourself, gripping the edge of the chair tight and taking a deep breath, knowing you can’t do anything but succumb to her teasing feet that press into the bulge against your boxers.

She knows she has you now. Yujin knows she has you wrapped around her little finger, that you’ll worship every part of her, from head to toe, and then you’ll do it all over again.

If you’re not careful, Yujin’s going to make you explode, but that’s not exactly your choice to make.

“If daddy doesn’t wanna have me for breakfast, then I guess I’ll just have to keep playing with your cock like this. But I’m not gonna make you cum. Not gonna let you get even close, not until you taste me.”

It’s amazing how her words are both bratty and commanding at the same time. You know Yujin isn’t going to stop rubbing those pretty little toes all over your cock until you’re crumbling beneath her, because she’s only interested in what she wants—and what she wants is watching you squirm.

This is only the start. It's only going to get worse and worse, and you’re already trying so hard not to moan, trying hard not to stain your boxers. Resisting is all so pointless, so futile, because Yujin has this chapter written, and you’re just hoping it doesn’t end with a cliffhanger.

“You want more of this, don’t you? I know how much daddy wants me. Wanna feel my toes in your mouth so bad, don’t you? Or do you wanna rip these shorts off me and take me right here?”

It’s frustrating how good Yujin is at teasing you, how she always has the upper hand, and knows that in her presence, you’ll never say no to her. Your defenses break down bit by bit, and even through the thin material of your underwear, the pressure on your aching cock becomes too much to bear. You’re falling apart at the seams, and there’s no way to stop the thread from unraveling.

In the end, all that resistance was just an illusion, and you cave in, because of course you do. You’re dying to get your hands on Yujin, to taste every part of her, to rip those clothes off that she just put on. Yujin knows you better than you know yourself. And you don’t care how weak it makes you, because you’re hungry, you’re famished, not for breakfast, but for Yujin herself.

Ever so slowly, you lift one of those pretty feet from your crotch, bringing it to your mouth, and plant gentle kisses all over the soft sole of her foot, from her heel, to the middle of her high arch, then every one of her toes gets attention, from the big toe, all the way down to her small toe, and nothing gets left out. Yujin giggles with each kiss, while you give her what she wants, and she loves this part—she loves getting pampered by you, loves watching you worship her feet, especially when she has your undivided attention.

So as you pepper kisses along the length of her lengthy sole, Yujin keeps her other foot wrapped around your shaft, still massaging your needy cock through your boxers, and it’s obvious how much you needed this.

"You’re so hard," Yujin murmurs, her toes curling around your swelling tip, and bites her bottom lip in anticipation as you lick along her foot, your hungry, wet tongue, painting stripes along the bottom of her pretty sole. You trace her delicate foot from heel up to her toes, savoring the taste, and pressing your face against it before taking a deep inhale.

“God, Yujin,” you desperately groan, and you can smell her distinct scent even with your eyes closed. “Every part of you is just perfect.”

It's sweet, like vanilla, with a little hint of musk from sweat that you lick up, the salty flavor adding to your desire to worship Yujin. You continue your devotion to those priceless feet, switching from left to right, and running your tongue over Yujin's cute toes, tasting them one by one. It’s such an indulgent, shameless act, but she looks so relaxed while you lick all over her perfect, smooth soles, toes curling when you suck on them between your lips, coating them with your saliva, and god—you could just do this for hours.

“That feels fantastic, daddy,” Yujin says, and stops teasing you just long enough to press both feet against your face, letting you have your fill, as she enjoys watching you kiss, lick, and worship them. Her soles rub all over your mouth and chin, the tip of her toes indulging your eager tongue before her feet part to let you lick them both clean, and then you’re taking as many of those toes into your mouth as will fit, moaning as you suck on them, until you’re completely lost in savoring every inch of perfection.

It's a sight to behold, and Yujin is enjoying every second of it.

And then you’re in for one more round of vigorous worship, slobbering on Yujin’s soles, slurping on her toes, getting to taste as much of her pristine feet as you can, before her toes slip from between your lips with a loud, messy pop. You’ve hardly had enough, pressing both soles to either side of your face, which makes her smile at the lewd look of bliss that takes over, as you take another deep whiff, completely intoxicated by her utterly divine feet that deserve every bit of attention.

It’s out of the realm of possibility to think straight when you have Yujin up on a pedestal, with that body just waiting to be devoured, and it’s not enough now that you’ve been serving at the church of Yujin for the past several moments, transformed into a ravenous animal, left with an uncomfortable erection in your boxers that she needs to take responsibility for—

You’re going to do just that when you get out of your chair, pulling Yujin’s body towards you so her ass sits right on the edge of the island, and yank her shorts down, taking a moment to appreciate her pretty, bare cunt. There’s a bit of surprise on her face when you take the initiative, but you’re not letting a single second go to waste before you’re kissing her thighs with the same fervor, rubbing your face into the soft, supple flesh, licking them, biting them, listening to how she gasps when you’re tasting her sensitive skin.

Your cock continues to throb with anticipation, and you can’t hold yourself back, because there’s a fire that’s been lit inside you.

Yujin bites her lip hard, stifling a whimper as she looks down to watch you bury your head in between her legs. You continue licking along her inner thighs, working your way up, but never going where she wants you to most. It’s a slow process, turning the tables and teasing Yujin, savoring the taste of her thighs while her gorgeous pussy glistens, begging for attention, clit throbbing in need of your tongue.

“Daddy, no more teasing,” she pleads, but you’re not going to listen, even while her hands guide your head, you’re intent on kissing her thighs, leaving behind little love bites that have her squirming on the kitchen counter. Yujin lets out an adorable, frustrated little whine, but you pay her no attention as you run your tongue along the soft flesh of her thigh, dangerously close to her pussy.

“Yujin, you’ve gotten me this fucking hard, so you’re going to wait,” you say, looking up to watch the reaction on her face every time you plant your lips on her soft skin.

“No, daddy, I can’t. I’m so fucking wet,” Yujin says with a breathless, needy whine, and she parts her folds with two fingers to give you a better look. “Need you to taste me, need your mouth on my cunt. Right now, daddy.”

You’re trying to keep it all up, keep whatever semblance of control you have, but Yujin keeps touching herself in front of you, letting you see how wet she is, how ready she is to take your cock. After all you’ve done, you falter, because you can’t wait either, and you’re just as zealous to feast on her cunt.

It’s embarrassing how you’re falling back on your words, but who could blame you when you’ve been treated to such a delicious-looking meal inches in front of your face? So without a second thought, you dive in, tongue first, finally pressing your mouth against Yujin’s needy little cunt, and she lets out a gasp of relief when you’re tasting her slit.

Her pussy is already soaking wet for you, and it only takes one more lick before Yujin’s a whimpering mess, clutching on to the end of the counter as you work your tongue inside her, gathering up her sweet juices that spill out to keep your tongue satiated.

“Daddy, fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, need you to eat my pussy,” Yujin says, and she’s torn between begging for more, and taking it, but the way she’s threading her fingers through your hair lets you know which route she’s about to take. Either way, you’re not about to stop lapping at her pussy when she takes control, pulls your face in deeper, and she’s guiding your head between her spread legs, urging you to lick every last inch of her.

It only gets better when those immaculate, supple thighs shut around your head, trapping you in place. And it doesn’t even matter that you can’t even breathe, because you don’t need air, not when you have Yujin to breathe in, and she keeps you right where she wants you. Her thighs feel soft and warm, so utterly divine that when they press against the sides of your face while you devour her, you’re in absolute nirvana.

Yujin’s taste is nothing but intoxicating, so dangerously sweet that you can’t help but drink up every drop that spills from her perfect cunt, and you’re going to eat her out like she deserves, like your entire purpose in life is to make her feel good. You’re a mere mortal in comparison, and you’ll keep devouring her pussy until she cums on your face as many times as she pleases, because that’s the least you can do for a goddess like her.

"Yujin, you taste so fucking good," you groan, burying your tongue in her silky folds. She lets out a little yelp when you drag your tongue up her slit, and suck her clit into your mouth, flicking the tip of your tongue across it. Yujin keeps tugging at your hair, desperate to force your tongue deeper inside, and she doesn’t care if she chokes you with her thighs—and you’ll welcome it.

Your mouth is so fucking wet, but you’re still insatiable for more, because your tongue just can’t get enough of Yujin’s juices, a thirst that will never be quenched. Yujin dictates every little move you make, from how fast your tongue moves inside her, to how often she lets you come up for air, which matters little when all you can breathe is her heavenly arousal. She keeps her thighs locked around your head, a position you never want to escape from, wanting to stay trapped in that suffocating warmth as you keep your lips locked around her clit, and you’ll eat Yujin out for eternity if she lets you.

"Fuck,” Yujin says, letting a single syllable of her satisfaction slip out between moans. “You’re so good, so good at that daddy. Need you to keep eating me like this. Need you to make me cum.”

You’ll listen to anything she demands at this point, even as she’s whining and whimpering, while you explore every bit of her soaked folds, sucking hard on her clit, and you’re long past addicted to every drop that fills your lips. This is all familiar, you’ve done this enough times that you can do in your sleep, so you know how to get Yujin to the finish line and then some—but you also know that Yujin’s satisfaction never comes after just one orgasm. You’re going to keep your tongue buried between Yujin’s thighs, going to keep sucking on her clit, and even if your jaw gets sore, you won’t stop, not until she’s begging you to.

It may not get to that point, when the moment Yujin arches her back off the counter, her thighs start quivering with anticipation, and you know she can’t hold on much longer. Your mouth works overtime to draw out that much desired release, as the grip on your hair becomes so tight, so unrelenting, that you’ve done everything right when her fingernails dig into your scalp. Nothing’s going to stop her from climaxing, from making an absolute mess on your face, and you’re welcoming it all, licking her sweet pussy like your life depends on it.

“Daddy, I’m gonna—fuck!“ Yujin cries out, and then she’s convulsing on the counter, letting out the prettiest whines and moans as she cums, she cums hard on your face and her thighs begin violently shaking around your head, while you’re drinking up as much of it as you can.

With you slurping all the juices from her sensitive pussy, Yujin lets out the prettiest whines, gasping for air as she squirms on the kitchen counter, unable to remain still, unable to do anything but ride it all out. She keeps her thighs wrapped around your head, because she doesn’t want you to stop licking her soaking wet folds, and you wouldn't dream of denying her more bliss.

“Make me cum again, daddy. Make me cum again on your cute face,” she demands, and you’re happy to oblige her without hesitation. Not that you have much of a choice with your face pressed into her messy cunt, but you’re still eager to deliver more pleasure until her toes curl tighter, and her entire body shudders from the blissful waves of another orgasm crashing into her.

Now that you’ve gotten that sensitivity going, the second time Yujin cums it’s just as beautiful, even if it doesn’t last as long. You’re almost disappointed when the pressure around your head releases, because you’ve grown accustomed to inhaling the scent of Yujin’s pussy for what feels like forever. But when her thighs spread open for worship once more, and you lick them clean, she flashes you a look that you know means she’s not even close to being satisfied. It’s a look you know all too well.

“Daddy got to have his breakfast, so now it’s time for mine.”

Not even taking a moment to let her stamina refill, Yujin hops off the counter and palms your bulge. She makes short work of your underwear as it falls to your ankles, and your cock is already twitching for attention that she gives right away, stroking with slow, methodical pumps as she captures you in her sultry gaze.

The last of your patience runs thin, but Yujin's ran out long ago.

You’re dying to be balls deep inside her, and the feeling is mutual for her. There’s no more waiting to be dealt with as she grabs the hem of her tank top, yanking It over her head, and you follow in her footsteps until you’re both stripped of your clothes, standing bare ass naked in the middle of the kitchen.

There's only a moment to appreciate the parts of her body that you’ve yet to worship, how perfect those breasts look before her hands are already back on your cock, pumping with a tight enough grip to almost hurt. You take the chance to get your mouth on her tits, sucking on her taut nipples, swirling your tongue around while she pumps you, until Yujin releases your cock and leans back on the counter. Yujin is just so damn perfect, and you keep showing that by kissing her abs in just the right places, moving down to the curve of her hips, then back up her chest, peppering along her collarbone.

Yujin stops you when you get up to her neck and has this glint in her eye that can’t be ignored. “Fuck me, daddy. Right here, right now. Wanna feel your big cock in my little cunt, and then—“

The rest is a mystery as Yujin breaks eye contact long enough to spin around, bending over the counter to present you with an irresistible view of her tight ass. You can see the wetness glistening along her folds at this angle, and it’s impossible to hide how desperate you are to bury your aching cock in her cunt. It doesn’t help the way Yujin shakes her ass at you, tempting you with those full cheeks that would have you on your knees if not for how badly she needs to be fucked.

“Daddy,” Yujin growls, sounding more like a warning as she flashes a look over her shoulder that’s a silent message for you to get inside her, right now.

Almost as soon as you line up behind Yujin's body, she grabs the base of your shaft, guiding it between her legs, and takes away any chance to savor that initial penetration when she presses it against her slick opening.

It's overwhelming the way your cockhead slips between that silky flesh, parting those pretty wet folds and Yujin at least lets you do the rest, sinking inch after inch, until there’s no part of you left to bury inside her.

Yujin’s incredibly tight, but always feels so warm and welcoming, and there’s no need to take things slow, not when she’s all out of patience, pushing her ass back to meet you. It’s a signal heard loud and clear. When you grab her wide hips, your shaft plunges inside that familiar heat, and the grip her velvety walls offer is so fucking good it makes your mind go numb as you start to move faster inside her.

“Fuck, there you go, daddy. Pound me, pound my little cunt, make me feel full,” Yujin says, like that wasn’t always the plan from the start. There’s no way your thrusts are anything but deep and unforgiving, bottoming her out in no time, and she takes you so well, so effortlessly, that you’re the one having trouble adjusting instead of her.

“Yujin,” you start to say, but the way her pussy stretches around your cock, allowing you free rein to give her a proper dickdown leaves your mind blank. There’s nothing of importance to say other than how perfect she feels, or how good you want to make her feel, so you’ll just shut up and keep pounding her tight cunt.

You’re already hitting so deep, your cockhead kissing her insides, and it has you falling into a quick, powerful tempo that leaves Yujin clutching the edges of the counter for support. It’s a view that’s only made better when Yujin looks back, letting you see the deep lust in her eyes, the kind that’ll keep your hips moving until they give out. It’s everything you love about this position, letting you appreciate the best parts of Yujin’s body, particularly the way that thick ass jiggles when your hips meet, when she pushes back against you and matches your own pace.

Despite the fact that you’re, in theory, the one in control, Yujin is guiding the reins, demanding you fuck her harder, digging her nails into your thigh when your cock doesn’t move as fast as she likes, when it doesn’t rearrange her guts hard enough. There’s no doubt she’s calling the shots, there never was, and the little glances she gives over her shoulder serve as a stark reminder to pound her pussy without her telling you to.

You match Yujin’s groans with every thrust you make, burying your cock so deep inside her warmth, and holding such a tight grip on those flawless hips she’ll bruise no doubt, but she doesn’t even care—Yujin just wants you to keep this pace up, keep pulling her back whenever you ram inside her. She can take your cock so well, even as your pace grows erratic by her orders, but you never let up, because she needs your cock like air, needs to be stretched like her perfect little cunt deserves.

And you’re going to listen to whatever Yujin says, even as your hips start to burn from drilling her cunt so hard, putting every amount of force into your thrusts until she’ll feel it in the next morning. You're already so fucking close with how much she clenches around your cock, but you have to last until she's satisfied, until she’s screaming your name.

But that won’t be long, because Yujin is so fucking wet, and you can see the puddle between her legs that only grows, only serves as more evidence of how good a pounding she’s getting. It’s as loud as it is messy, but it leaves Yujin with a craving for more, leaving her frantically rubbing her clit, and the clench around your cock gets so fucking tight you almost explode.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, make me cum, daddy, make me cum on your thick fucking cock. Fuck, then you can cum and then I can taste—“

“Oh, good morning.” Wonyoung nonchalantly walks past the action happening, like you’re not in the middle of plowing her older roommate, and opens up the fridge. To be fair, you’ve become so accustomed to her interrupting the two of you, it does little to distract you at this point.

“Don’t mind me, just grabbing something to eat before class,” Wonyoung says, grabbing some yogurt and fresh berries from the fridge shelf, then uses her hip to close it shut. She takes a seat on the other side of the counter so casually, watching you pound Yujin, while taking her time to peel back the foil lid, then starts to slowly dip her spoon into the yogurt, mixing in the berries at the same time.

Her eyes are fixated on the action, but she’s eating a healthy breakfast with such a vacant expression on her face, like this isn't the slightest bit strange. Wonyoung chews slowly, taking occasional glances in your direction while you’re ramming your cock into Yujin who doesn’t seem bothered in the least, not even when you start spanking her ass, just to make those plentiful cheeks jiggle, so she can moan louder and tighten up around your shaft.

“We’re out of blueberries,” Wonyoung says, as her lips pout, like you’re not railing her best friend in front of her, slapping Yujin’s ass hard, that it’s enough to make her squeal when the flesh ripples—and she does it again so fucking loud when you give her another rough spank, one deafening strike after the other that has your full concentration on the hypnotizing waves her ass cheeks make.

You’re absolutely destroying Yujin’s cunt, finding new angles to piston into her that have her letting out guttural cries of pleasure, and her tender asscheeks have the most beautiful hand prints on them, a pleasant shade of red that keeps deepening. Yujin gets impossibly tight whenever you spank her, making the most pathetic little whimpers while you deliver those stinging slaps to her ass, but Wonyoung makes little if any acknowledgment, uninterested in anything but her yogurt, eating it in relative silence.

It’s impressive how Wonyoung can maintain such a straight face, despite how loud you’re making Yujin scream, filling that cunt so perfectly, and it gets where you’ll try anything to get her attention—so you go harder on Yujin, ramming your shaft into that tight pussy so rough, that she can barely hang on to the kitchen counter. You’re doing whatever possible to elicit a reaction out of the younger girl, fucking the air right out of Yujin, that it becomes a challenge not to burst when your hips keep slapping against her reddened ass, because her pussy feels so fucking unreal—

Wonyoung has all but turned to stone, and while her eyes might dart from you to Yujin, it's impossible to tell if she's judging, aroused, or just enjoying the show. That stoic expression hasn’t changed one bit.

“Daddy, need you to give it to me, ruin my fucking pussy. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me, but you’re not pounding me hard enough,” Yujin says, which you find impossible to believe, but then again, you’re pretty sure that she’s getting off on her younger best friend watching her get dicked down.

So as Wonyoung just keeps eating her yogurt through it all, licking her spoon clean after every bite, paying no mind to how raw and vulgar the sounds of flesh smacking against flesh get, as you put every little ounce of strength you have left. Yujin is bent over so obscenely, taking all your cock without issue, and pushes back to meet each and every thrust that gets buried deep inside her.

There’s so much sweat dripping down your bodies, and you’ve given up on trying to break that poker face on Wonyoung, leaving you with nothing left to distract you. Yujin can take so much without any trouble, as if she’s showing off how much her pussy enjoys being pummeled, and all she does is beg for more. You keep the hand that isn’t on her hips moving, and the more it meets the deadly curve of that round ass, the better it gets watching the recoil on those sweaty cheeks.

Yujin's on the verge of release, and you’re not far behind, both chasing an earth-shattering orgasm that’ll have you both reeling, but as dangerously close as you are, Yujin's even closer, clenching hard on your cock, so fucking tight that you'll burst any second now.

You’re moving on auto-pilot, and when Yujin turns her head back to meet you halfway with her lips, your mouth crashes against her own, then you’re planting hungry kisses down her neck. There’s not a part on Yujin’s body that doesn’t taste good, and you kiss as many places as you have access to, from those beautiful shoulders, to that bare back covered in sweat, doing everything you can to prevent the inevitable.

All it takes is one solitary thrust that hits just right until Yujin’s legs begin to tremble, and when you do it again, she almost collapses on the spot. One more time, and she’s cumming on your cock without any warning, gushing on the kitchen floor, and it takes everything you’ve got to keep yourself buried. She’s squealing, gasping as you fuck her through the violent orgasm that rips through her body, and the only thing you can think about is how fucking desperate you are for relief while you hold her hips, helping her ride through the intensity of her high that shows no signs of yielding.

The kitchen (and Yujin) is going to be such a mess after this.

Yujin keeps convulsing on your cock, taking you closer to that edge, while you drill her as fast and hard as your hips will allow, driving her to a second greedy climax that you’re a fraction of a second from blowing your load inside her. Yujin’s so fucking wet, so unbearably tight that you’ll have to make a conscious effort to hold on, because you can't last much longer, not with how euphoric it feels to be buried in her cunt.

“D-daddy, daddy, are you close?” Yujin asks, out of breath, and it’s the easiest question in the world to answer. All you can do is nod at this point during the next lust-filled kiss, and it takes all of your remaining strength to pull out from her heat at the right time.

Yujin drops to her knees to finish you off, tasting herself on your needy cock, and it won’t take long at all until you’re filling up that pretty mouth.

While this is all happening, Wonyoung licks her spoon clean one last time, still sitting on the opposite end of the island, and gets up out of her chair without a passing glance, tossing her empty yogurt cup away. She leaves without any parting words, without the slightest bit of recognition that Yujin now has your cock jammed down her throat as she grabs your hips, bobbing her head at an impossible to deal with pace.

You’re on board a rocket that’s already been lit, about to explode at any moment, because the back of Yujin’s wet throat feels like heaven, and the way she looks up, waiting for you to cum is more maddening than you know how to handle. Her nails dig deeper into your hips, and you’re spiraling out of control while those sexy lips of hers stay perfectly sealed around your cock, tongue tracing the underside of your cock. Yujin isn’t going to stop until she has you cumming down her throat.

That gorgeous face is so eager, so happy to swallow all the cum out of your cock, and her eyes show how badly she wants it as her hands leave your hips, finding your wrists before she guides them up the back of her head.

“Yujin—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna make me fucking cum,” you groan out, and you’ve never seen those sparkling eyes widen so much. You know Yujin can’t wait, nor can you, not with how sloppy her mouth is, how deep she’s taking you into her mouth, and she’s sucking you off so well you can hardly think straight, every messy slurp making your head spin.

Yujin doesn’t even gag when you instinctively start fucking her mouth, getting a strong grip on her head, and you’re not even sure how she can even breathe with your cock crammed so far down her throat—not that she cares, because she just keeps staring up at you, keeps showing you how much she wants you to cum in her mouth, like she needs it to survive.

It’s fucking filthy, wet, and you can’t even settle into a rhythm before your cock throbs, your lips groaning Yujin’s name in a chant as the only warning she’ll get before you press her face down into her crotch, holding her there until your hot seed shoots down her throat.

Your legs threaten to give out when you unload down Yujin’s waiting throat, but she takes everything you have to offer. It’s not the least bit difficult for her to swallow it all, smiling with her eyes as you’re pumping all the thick, gooey cum into her stomach, and she makes sure none of it goes to waste, throat milking it all out.

Yujin fucking loves the taste, the thickness that fills her mouth, the texture that she can’t get enough of, swallowing every last drop like it’s the best damn breakfast she’s ever had. And when there’s nothing left in your balls to empty, Yujin keeps her mouth on your shaft, keeps that powerful suction going, even when you can’t take anymore.

“Yujin, please,” you can barely get out, and you’re not proud of begging, but fighting against the aftershocks and overstimulation is an uphill battle that makes you nearly pass out against the kitchen counter. But fortune favors you, since there’s pity written on Yujin’s features, so she lets you slip out of her mouth, licking your sensitive cockhead clean before doing the same to her lips.

“Thanks for the delicious protein, daddy. It really makes the best breakfast.”

With whatever strength left, you hold on for dear life against the kitchen island, and Yujin just stares at you in your post-orgasm daze, licking her lips like she’s ready to go again. Because you know she is.

“Daddy—“ It’s just one word, but she says it with affection in her voice as she saunters over to you and caresses your cheek. Both of you are covered in sweat, but you really took the brunt of it, given that you’re still gasping for air, still recovering from such a mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm Yujin just helped you reach. “I think we should skip the rest of our classes today. Don’t you?”

She has a point. You’ll only have a couple of classes left in your day even if you went, and you’re not particularly compelled to spend hours listening to some old guy drone on about histories of countries you’ll probably never even visit in your lifetime. You also know with your schedule clear that Yujin’s liable to jump your bones the entire day, and you’re already exhausted as is.

But really—when has Yujin wearing you out ever been a bad thing?

✦ ✦

To nobody’s surprise, Yujin is insatiable.

On the kitchen floor still lies a heap of clothes, but there’s no point in putting them back on, since they won’t be staying on. Now that your schedule’s been freed, Yujin has the rest of the day planned out—and it involves you, her, and whatever surface that’ll hold her weight.

Wonyoung’s classes won’t be over for several hours, so there won’t be any more interruptions, which gives the perfect opportunity to jump in the shower and share the hot water together. In reality, it’s the only reprieve you’re getting, and that’ll only last until the water warms up—getting clean is only an afterthought.

Once the water starts streaming down your bodies, it relaxes all your tired muscles, and Yujin helps soap up your body, which is really just an excuse to get her hands on you again. And her hands feel amazing when they massage all the sore spots on your body underneath the running water (which is always as hot as possible when Yujin’s involved).

You’ve never felt so relaxed, so calm when Yujin helps shampoo your hair, working her fingers deep in your scalp. Something in your gut tells you that feeling is only going to last until it all gets washed out, even as Yujin smiles innocently when she helps rinse out your hair.

When the last of the shampoo falls down into the drain, it takes all the purity of the shower with it.

Yujin begins soaping up your body, running her hands along every part of your chest and stomach, and it doesn’t take long before she gets a little too handsy. Little by little, her hands travel down your hips, and you know where they’re going to detour, that there was zero chance you’d actually use the shower for its designated purpose.

It doesn’t matter though, when Yujin looks so ethereal surrounded by running water, with her wet hair stuck to her face, accompanied by the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You’re definitely staring, which no one could blame you for when the only thing better than Yujin’s naked body—is Yujin’s naked body all wet and soapy.

Distraction comes easily when you’re busy getting lost in all the curves of that immaculate figure, and you’re only interrupted when Yujin uses your hips to spin you around, facing you away from her as the hot water starts to pelt your chest. The only thing more soothing than the running water is the way her arms wrap around your waist, how the weight of her perky breasts press into your back. Yujin’s soft lips latch onto your neck, peppering it with kisses, and her hands inch lower down your torso, with no mistaking where they’re heading.

“Daddy,” Yujin whispers, wrapping those eager fingers around your length, and it only takes a few pumps before she brings your erection back to life. “Gonna keep milking you, gonna keep draining those heavy loads out of your balls over and over until they’re sore, until you can barely walk.”

You have little of a response to offer, only groans that tell Yujin all she needs to hear when the grip on your shaft tightens. The hot breath on your neck only serves to leave you more speechless, and the way she’s jerking you off nice and slow only makes it worse, especially with how you’re still sensitive, but you’re not about to admit that—she’ll know regardless.

Yujin’s words hold so much weight to them, because you know how relentless she can be, how easy it is to gain control over your body. You know her words are a promise, a guarantee that she’ll do whatever she likes, and she lets out a little giggle when your shaft twitches in her hand. “You’re gonna cum all day for me, right? As many times as I want. All over me, all inside me, everywhere. Your cum belongs to me, daddy.”

It gets harder to speak the more Yujin reveals her intentions, the more those fingers squeeze the tip of your cock just right, making you let out a desperate moan. She keeps nibbling on your neck, pumping your length at an agonizing pace, just so your shaft doesn't get the kind of attention you need, just enough to keep you hard for her.

“Just thinking about all the ways I can make daddy cum makes me so fucking wet. You’re gonna breed me so many times today, gonna pump all your loads inside me.“

When Yujin finishes her sentence, she licks over your earlobe, blowing hot air into it as the path her fingers take speeds up, gets just a little tighter. It’s the littlest bit of pleasure, but it draws out your moans, and without even noticing, your hips are bucking on their own, fucking her fist to bring yourself to another release.

“You need to cum again, don’t you?” Yujin asks, but her question comes with more intense jerks of her hand, giving you the pace you desperately need, which makes you twitch between her fingers harder than before. “Then you have to let me do it, daddy.”

Yujin stalls your hips, holding them in place long enough so you’ll get the message. All you want to do is move, thrust your shaft in between Yujin’s delicate little hand, but it’s clear she’s not going to allow that, so you hold back anything that voices your frustration. She nips at your ear, and her soapy hand slides along your shaft with ease, twisting the right way, and given the attention you’ve been craving,

It's embarrassing how close you already are, especially after such a rough, sweaty session on the kitchen counter. “Daddy likes when I take my time, don’t you? When I get you all worked up, because it’ll feel better when I make you cum…”

You’re not going to admit anything, regardless if she’s right or not. Which she is, but you’re fucking greedy right now, and all you want is to fuck Yujin against the shower glass, until you fuck another load inside her. You can’t even see her face right now, but you know what smug expression is on her face when she strokes your cock just the way you like it, bringing you closer and closer, and you can feel the hardness of her nipples as her wet tits stay squished against your back.

Maybe it’s for the best that you can’t see her, since you know she'd have that familiar shit-eating grin plastered on her face, knowing how fucking close you are to unloading in her hands, because nobody but her can get you off quite like she can.

“Yujin, please,” you moan, a regrettable use of words, because you don’t need her knowing just how desperate you are to cum, but it’s too late when she chuckles into your ear.

She’s maniacal in her ways, releasing the grip on your cock, just to laugh as it throbs in the air—then she’s teasing that sweet spot with the pad of her finger, applying the least amount of pressure when she traces your shaft from base to tip, prolonging every bit of pleasure you’ll beg for.

You’re a fucking wreck already, and Yujin just keeps building and building your orgasm, making you chase it. It only becomes more of a challenge not to move your hips when she gives ample amounts of pleasure, just to steal it away at the last possible second, until you’re letting out more whimpers of desperation.

There’s no comfort in being under the hot water anymore while Yujin keeps you riding that edge, keeps you right where she wants you. “Please, please,Yujin—“

Your pleas go unanswered while her free hand rakes against your wet abdomen, giving an extra dose of stimulation that only makes it all worse, and she never maintains the same speed of those tormenting strokes for long. Yujin knows how to torture your cock better than you give her credit for.

“Maybe I should make daddy wait until we’re out of the shower?” You’d rather perish at such a suggestion.

You’re at her whims, powerless, vulnerable as could be, when she uses her thumb to rub lazy circles around your cockhead, and embarrassingly helpless, waiting for the moment when she has mercy on you, when she’ll let you blow a load like you never have before.

What makes matters worse is Yujin knowing how close you are to the edge, that if she squeezes your cockhead just right, you’ll shoot an absolute mess between her fingers and all over the tiles. You could be selfish, take matters into your own hands—quite literally. It’s not like Yujin hasn’t given you permission to cum, and she doesn’t punish you for anything—but there’s no satisfaction in taking the easy way out.

So you’re left with the only other option—keeping your composure. A task made nearly impossible when Yujin keeps changing the pressure, only allowing as many strokes as it takes to reach that dangling edge once more. All you can do is wait for it to all build back up again, then hang on tight, which isn’t easy when Yujin keeps teasing the other parts of your body: playing with your nipples, giving your balls a gentle squeeze, doing everything but letting you reach the nirvana you’d give anything to reach.

“Yujin—“ You don’t even care how needy you sound, or how frail your voice comes out as, you’re not above getting on your hands and knees to beg at this point. Even when it seems like you've been edged for days, Yujin knows how well you can endure it.

“Don’t you worry, daddy. I said I was gonna milk your cock, so that’s what I’m gonna do,” Yujin purrs, as fingers rub the sensitive tip of your cock. It's too much pressure, and it takes everything to hold back from spilling, even when you're so fucking close. Yujin squeezes your heavy balls once more, then again, like she’s gauging how much you’ll blow when you’re finally permitted to finish, and you’re a hair's breadth from releasing it all.

There’s a wet kiss planted on the back of your neck as Yujin applies a firm grip at the base of your shaft, and those magical fingers move at a pace that you’ve been dying for as they twist around your cock. Yujin rubs her thumb around your sensitive slit, and begins to pump with such ferocity that your breathing gets heavy and weak, fueling the anticipation more and more, until you’re almost there—

You just pray that Yujin lets you finish this time.

She gives every bit of stimulation you can take, cycling through sucking on your neck, blowing puffs of hot air into your ear, and whispering the absolute dirtiest things she can imagine, words that could make you cum on their own. And the knot in your stomach just keeps snowballing.

“Give me your cum, daddy. Give me that big fucking load, I need it, I need to milk it right out of you,” Yujin commands, with a death grip on your shaft, jerking you off so fast as that pressure just keeps boiling until you’re at a breaking point. Everything blurs together, and it’s impossible to do anything but let the inevitable happen, because regardless if Yujin lets you or not—you’re going to fucking cum.

One light stroke is all it takes to reach the point of no return, and Yujin wraps her free arm around your waist in order to keep you upright while your climax hits like a truck. Your load shoots out like a geyser, coating Yujin’s fingers as you spray it all over the tiles, moaning uncontrollably. As you let out all that bottled up bliss, your whole body spasms out of control, but Yujin keeps you steady, keeps pumping all of your seed out, the sheer force of it making her giggle.

It doesn’t feel like the spurts ever get weaker, even as Yujin keeps squeezing the tip of your cock, prolonging your euphoric high for as long as she can. The relief only gets better with every heavy pulse of your shaft, and it feels like it’s never going to end—you just cum, and cum, and cum, while Yujin whispers words of praise into your ears, milking that massive load out of you as promised. Every little drop gets ejected from your pulsating shaft, until your balls are depleted, absolutely drained, and there’s nothing left to spill.

By the time it all subsides, every muscle in your body still trembles, and even after you’ve been milked dry, your cock still throbs for Yujin. The aftershocks fire off like the Fourth of July, and it’s a losing battle trying not to collapse, but Yujin ensures you remain on your feet.

Yujin turns you around to face her, and there’s a dangerous grin on her face—something you should be worried about, because only she knows what else you’re in store for. Without even noticing, the water gets turned off, and Yujin helps you out of the shower, draping a towel over your shoulder to aid in your recovery. Little by little, you regain your senses until you feel like a functional human again.

There’s not a mirror left that hasn’t been completely fogged over, but the cool air feels so refreshing on your hot skin after being in there for ages. Yujin can’t stop smiling as she takes care of you, drying off your body and ruffling your hair, because she knows you’re going to feel that high for days.

Once you're all toweled off, squeaky clean, and refreshed, it all comes full circle when Yujin drags you back to her bedroom, one of the biggest places in the apartment. Her bed is spacious enough to accommodate a small army, but it’s just you, her, and that killer smile, with all the room for whatever Yujin has in mind.

Again, clothes seem like such a frivolous waste of energy, and neither of you can even be bothered with those fancy silk bathrobes Yujin looks so good in. Besides, there’s this inescapable feeling you’re going to need all the energy you can spare.

Your suspicions get proven once your back hits the mattress, when Yujin’s lips place chaste kisses down your shoulders and chest before resting her head on you. It’s the rare occasion where you have time to relax, even being aware there’s some devilish intentions stored up, but you’re able to just enjoy the moment with Yujin nuzzled against you, but god—her skin feels so impossibly soft, and she smells so good, even though its just shampoo, body spray, and her natural scent.

“Did you have fun yesterday?” Yujin asks out of the blue, and you don’t have the faintest idea what she’s referring to, but with her, you’ll have to prepare for anything. While you’re waiting for her to explain, her fingers run through your hair, scratching the back of your scalp, which relaxes you enough to fall asleep in an instant as your heavy eyelids shut tight.

“Did you have fun plowing our Wonyoungie yesterday?“ Yujin repeats, with a bit of clarification that leaves a disastrous blush on your face when your eyes spring open. “I went out for a swim while you two were…busy and I could still hear her from the pool.”

It all feels like a lifetime ago that you railed Wonyoung across the entire apartment, but in reality, less than twenty-four hours passed. The image stays fresh in your mind, how you can still feel how Wonyoung clung to your body as you ravaged her down the hallway, and made her cum on your fingers, then again on your tongue, and then even more times on your cock than you could count. You can still hear the whimpers in your ears when you folded Wonyoung in half, and it wouldn’t matter where Yujin was—there wasn’t a quiet spot in the entire apartment.

“Sorry, we should have been more—”

Yujin interrupts you with a kiss before your defenses get too worked up. “There’s no need to be sorry. Hearing you pound that little brat senseless really got me going. Do you know how jealous hearing her scream daddy over and over made me? I just wanted to lie out and enjoy the sun, but I couldn’t stop touching myself, hearing the way you fucked her brains out.

There’s no bigger smile than the one on her face right now.

Jealousy wasn’t a trait you expected from Yujin, but it’s not surprising given how possessive she can get. That image alone, there's something so arousing about it—even more when you know Yujin loves swimming in the nude, and her getting off by the pool as she hears every single scream from Wonyoung, it sends blood flowing to all the right places. Yujin can discern how you’re processing the information, how it gets the gears in your head turning and all your fantasies brought to the surface.

“I don’t usually get myself off when I have you and Wonyoung to do that, but the way you just kept pounding her and pounding her—“

Yujin’s eyes can’t stop growing when she relives the events from yesterday, and it’s clear this is only going to end one way. “I hope you came in her, daddy. I hope you pumped all your cum in that little slut.”

“You think there’s any way I wouldn’t?” You’re almost annoyed that she would dare ask such a thing, like Wonyoung’s tight little body isn’t tailor made for breeding. Regardless, Yujin can only beam from ear to ear, because it’s the answer she wants to hear, even though it would take a herculean effort to not finish inside your mutual younger roommate.

"Wonyoung has such a nice body, doesn’t she? Her perky little tits, tiny waist, and that face? Oh, isn’t it so gorgeous? She’s like a model. Doesn’t it just make you want to blast a nice, thick load all over it? She would look so pretty covered in your cum, daddy.” Yujin looks absolutely feral when she talks like that, and she’s pushing all the right buttons to provoke a reaction out of you, one that you’re hopeless to defend against.

“You know what’ll be even better?” she asks, adding a pause that’s just there to torture you. “When I watch your cock wreck her cunt, being right there when you breed that little cumslut. I can’t wait to see how she takes your huge cock, how that bratty face looks when you’re filling up that pretty little pussy.”

It’s hard to not let your arousal get carried away when Yujin keeps putting ideas in your head, but you have no barriers left to build. She gets you riled up so easily, with just a few simple words to plant the seeds, and your imagination will grow the rest.

“But you know I can’t just watch, right?” Yujin adds, as her voice develops into a low murmur against your ear. ”Next time—we both get to play with her.”

You can see it so vividly, the image of sharing Wonyoung as she gets stretched out on your cock, using her petite body, dominating her in unison, defiling her in every position imaginable—it really gets the blood between your legs pumping. All of it serves as just a sample to whatever Yujin has planned, and she unravels the next step by grabbing the back of your hand, pressing it in between her thighs so you can feel the wetness pooling out of her cunt.

There’s that hungry look again in Yujin’s eyes when she grinds on your fingers long enough to coat them in her inexhaustible slickness. Your respite has all the life span you expected—she won’t be satisfied with just getting your fingers messy, there’s a much more grandiose plan awaiting.

Yujin releases your wrist, but that warm, wet mess clings to your fingertips, dripping down your hand, like it wasn’t obvious she’s raring to start the second act. You get a moment to see how her arousal glistens on your fingers before she brings them up to her mouth, tasting her own sweetness, and sucks it right off without breaking eye contact.

Everything about it looks so erotic, the way Yujin sucks so greedily on your digits and uses the same energy when she goes down on you, cleaning up every single spot of the mess she created. Yujin hums against your fingers, and sucks with such fervor, like the juices she’s licking clean are the most delicious thing she could have in her mouth. It’s hard to decipher the expression on Yujin’s face, whether she looks so ravenous because she’s tasting herself, or if she just loves having your fingers in her mouth.

It doesn't really matter in the end, because it’s all done to grab your attention. You’re just trying to keep that lingering arousal in check, not let it get too carried away—but you can’t say the same for Yujin, who’s gotten so messy with how she’s salivating on your fingers, long past cleaning the taste off them. This is all for her own enjoyment.

“Daddy…” Her voice starts out muffled with how her lips stay attached around your fingers. “Oh, daddy…” Yujin drags out her syllables when she shifts position into a full straddle, resting her weight on your lap as she keeps sliding your wet fingers past her lips. It’s the right kind of messy that has saliva dripping down her chin, and you know there’s no way Yujin can’t feel your cock stiffening up again once she releases your fingers with a sensual pop, letting them travel up her toned abdomen, right up to the valley between her naked breasts.

“I know you love getting your tongue in my cunt,” she says, using your saliva coated digits to squeeze one of her sensitive breasts, then teases her stiff nipple in lazy circles, poorly stifling out a little gasp. “So this time, I’ll make it easier for you.”

This is the part where all of your muscles tense up waiting for Yujin to pounce. It’s an overwhelming anticipation when she brings your index finger back into her mouth, using the tip of her tongue to roll around it before taking it down to the knuckle without even gagging, and makes such a lewd display of it, using you to satisfy her oral fixation.

“Just lay there, daddy. Stay right there so I can ride your cute face.”

The words come out so casually when Yujin pops out your finger, and there’s no answer you could give besides an obedient nod. She knows this, of course, not that it matters what random assortment of words get strung together; the answer will always be the same, but even under that thousand-mile long smile, there’s something more sinister waiting.

It’s a look that sends your heart racing, the suspense deepening when Yujin makes the slow crawl up your body, and ends with a devastating kiss before grabbing the headboard to pull herself up. No other vantage point offers a more appetizing view of that tantalizing pink flesh, and there are no barriers between Yujin when she hovers right above your mouth, spreading herself open with two fingers so her arousal drips down your face.

“Daddy—” Yujin begins to say, but it doesn’t matter how her sentence finishes, because you’re too lost in how tasty her cunt looks. You can’t imagine how it looks on her end, how starved you must look, but you can’t contain your insatiable lust for Yujin, dying for a taste.

And then, that craving becomes reality as Yujin lowers her hips, until those heavenly thighs return to either side of your face. There isn’t even a warning—not that you need one while she presses her soaking wet folds against your face, smearing it with her nectar that trickles into your mouth. You don’t even get the chance to get your tongue on her, because she’s just spreading that wetness wherever she can, and it’s only when you try to savor that taste that she’s pulling away—

Yujin wants to make you work for it.

All you can do is whine at first when her cunt hovers out of reach, and there’s no point in hiding the desperation written all over your face, because she senses every bit. The mischievous laughter and giggles get more and more infuriating when those dripping pussy lips graze your mouth, but she doesn’t keep up this game for long, because the temptation to let you feast becomes too strong to fight.

Once Yujin eventually puts her weight down on you, smothering your face with that soaked cunt, it's like you can finally breathe again once you’re allowed to taste her, and the need for oxygen no longer feels all that necessary. You give her wet entrance the most tentative of licks, savoring the taste that lingers on the tip of your tongue when she grinds against your mouth, which makes you groan right into her, and you just need more.

Can you breathe, daddy?” Yujin asks, not in concern, but a playful little tease when her cunt presses harder against your face. It’s a question devoid of any importance right now, but you shake your head as she keeps lowering herself on you just right, letting you bury your tongue right into the source, and she uses those sinfully soft thighs to squeeze your head like they’re never going to let go.

Yujin moves without an ounce of haste, working at a deliberate tempo so she can savor all those sensations at once while she gets her hands all over the back of your head, keeping your tongue buried between her wet folds. She’s just loving the way you’re desperate to devour her cunt, licking as much of her as your tongue can reach, tasting all that tangy slickness when it flows right into your mouth. This is the perfect spot for you to be, getting her off while you suffocate between those thighs, drowning in her arousal that clings to your lips and keeps trickling down your face.

The real fun happens when Yujin starts to roll her hips, when she’s dominating your face, suffocating you with all her weight. Her cunt drools right on your tongue, soaking every corner of your mouth when you hit the right spots, then she begins to really use your face, tangling those slender fingers in your hair, and grinding on your mouth to further entice your appetite. “Oh fuck, right there, daddy—keep that tongue out, keep making me feel good. You love eating my pussy, don’t you?”

A rather pointless question, one that gets answered with frantic licks instead of words. There’s no greater honor than pleasuring Yujin, and she doesn’t hold back anything when she grinds those powerful hips on your face, fucking herself on your tongue until it leaves an absolute welcome mess on your lips. Yujin loves the attention, having a perfect sense of control, and your sole purpose is to work your tongue through that wet cunt, providing your mouth that she can use to her heart's content.

Yujin clutches the headboard for stability, hips moving with such force that she’s using you like a toy to fuck your face, and all you can do is keep your tongue flicking faster to keep up. She tastes so fucking good, even when you can’t gather up all her nectar into your mouth, the rest spilling out in sticky streams that flow down your chin like a delicious, seemingly endless fountain.

And all the noises she makes, the way she groans, whines on your tongue, all that breathless panting as her body writhes in ecstasy sound so unbelievably sexy, that makes you want to lick her cunt forever.

“Gonna—gonna cum hard, daddy,” Yujin cries out, your favorite words to hear while those hips move on their own. She gets right on that edge, keeping your head still, and she’s almost there, so close, that you can literally taste it—

“Daddy!”

Yujin tenses up when that climax hits, her cunt gushing all over your face. It’s all flooding your tongue, lips, and everything in between as she squeezes her thighs like a vice around your head, just riding those endless waves of bliss that you hope never end.

You’re rather disappointed when she slows her hips, even if it lets you savor the shower of arousal that’s blessed your face. The biggest surprise is how it’s rather calm—because you know firsthand that Yujin can climax like a hurricane. When it all passes and she gets her breathing back under control, you’re a bit too eager during the aftermath, cleaning up wherever you can, while she’s still dealing with the aftershocks, with only enough energy to play with your hair.

Once Yujin catches her breath, she lets out those adorable giggles again while she stays right there on top of you, and takes her sweet time getting off your face, getting a good look at the absolute mess she’s made of you. “Look at daddy all covered in me…”

Yujin is barely even panting, which isn’t that unexpected given how relentless her stamina is, and you’re more in need of recovery than she is. Still, it doesn’t stop her from leaning in to take a kiss before she licks the side of your face, tasting herself all over you.

The words come out muffled when Yujin says, ”Daddy, you taste so good.” She finishes cleaning off her mess until all she leaves are those affectionate kisses alongside your jaw, because she’s never really done with you.

“That’s all my Yujin—“ you stop yourself mid-sentence, realizing the words that just left your lips, nearly choking on them. It’s the sort of thing that just slips out in the heat of the moment, when your mind is too fogged over and consumed with Yujin’s lingering taste. You can tell you've made a mistake when her eyes widen, but there’s no backtracking now—not when you’re this flustered.

Before Yujin can say anything else, you seal her lips with a kiss, one that’s supposed to end in an instant—but she locks in that embrace, keeping your lips captive into something much more prolonged. You know it’s fruitless to disguise your vulnerability when there’s nothing that can wipe that stupid, smug grin off of her face, and after what feels like forever, you’re both just staring for what feels like forever, until Yujin breaks the silence with the most endearing little laugh.

“What was that, daddy?” she questions, and there's an innocent blush on her face when she surrounds in that intense eye contact, but there’s no chance that’s going to have you repeating what just slipped out.

“Nothing,” you mumble, as if Yujin would be satisfied with that response. You know there isn’t anything that will get you out of this, but it won't stop you from trying, looking off to the side to avoid the intense eyes staring a hole through you. Yujin’s a woman with impenetrable defenses, and she’s not going to be distracted easily, holding your face between her palms to prevent your gaze from averting.

“Daddy…”

Yujin pouts with that cute puppy face that isn’t remotely fair, and it doesn’t help that she’s cutely rubbing your cheeks with her thumbs, trying to coax an answer out of you. The power in her gaze never falters, and when she realizes you have no plans to cave, she leans into the crook of your neck, grazing those warm, full lips right on your neck to get those juices flowing again.

“Yujin—'' You want to at least attempt a show of protest, but she’ll know it isn't even half-hearted when her hand cups the back of your head, as she fully latches her mouth onto your neck. It's that special little area that always makes you melt, and you're just lost in her touch, how that warm, wet tongue traces just the right spots, and then she grabs something hidden underneath a pillow—

You only get a moment to glance at a set of light pink, fur-covered handcuffs before Yujin restrains your wrists to the headboard above, leaving you helpless with no choice but to indulge in her desires. There’s an expression on her face that’s all so familiar, but there isn’t enough time to think when Yujin kisses down your body, licks a nipple while flicking the other with her thumb, then travels down your abdomen, sucking marks wherever she can on your skin.

“Our little Wonyoung got to have you inside her all day yesterday, didn’t she?” she asks, that jealous, possessive tone laced in every single syllable, but the question isn’t really intended to get a response. “How many times did you cum inside her? Three? Four?” I can only imagine how pretty her pussy looks when it’s dripping your hot load…”

There’s not another word from Yujin’s lips while she keeps marking your body with her mouth, as she works down to your thighs, spreading them apart before kissing every single spot she can get her lips on—and you’re already getting so hard with just a handful of kisses alone.

The worst part is you can’t even touch her, which makes you tug your frustrations out against the metal around your wrist that prevents you from doing so. It’s already so much to deal with, because Yujin can be the biggest tease, the cutest brat, and the sexiest little demon, all at once—you know you’re in for a long ride.

“But now, daddy,“ she starts, and there’s a different tone to it when it rolls off her tongue. “I get to keep you all to myself. I get to have your amazing cock filling me, pumping my pussy full of that thick cum.”

Those words are enough to drive you insane.

You can feel the hot breath on your thighs that’s she’s kept open, but she hasn’t touched your cock that’s throbbing inches away from her face, only kissing everywhere but where you need, a directionless assortment of pecks that’s only meant to torment.

“You look so good in handcuffs. And now, you’re—all—mine.”

The kisses on your thighs stop just as fast as they start, and then she caresses them, keeping that blood flowing into your loins. Her nails scratch against your skin for some extra stimulation, not enough to cause pain, but to draw your attention from what’s next. “I need you to cum again.”

Every single word Yujin says drips out lust like honey.

The mere sound of her voice puts you on edge, and Yujin sounds so breathless when she squeezes your balls, rolls them between her fingers as your cock twitches for her. If that wasn’t enough, she dips her head down, making nothing but the most shallow licks through your sack, which is more than enough torture—because you can’t even lay a fingertip on her beautiful skin, can’t run your fingers through her hair, you’re so powerless to do anything but squirm and fight against your restraints.

“Your balls feel so nice and heavy, and your cock—“ Yujin pauses as she grabs your shaft by the base and squeezes. “This beautiful fucking cock just belongs inside me. It deserves to fill me up, god—I just need you to breed me again and again, daddy…”

You’re hesitant to say anything that can give off a reaction, since Yujin’s gotten you so riled up that any little thing will set you off, so you remain silent, just letting out a sigh that she manages to still hear. It’s all she needs.

“You need me on your cock, don’t you, daddy? Because I need that thick cock pumping those hot loads, filling my cunt deep.”

It’s a rather redundant question, but that doesn’t stop Yujin from slowly running her hand up your shaft, giving a squeeze at just the right places. She moves nice and slow, feeling your entire length as it throbs under her touch, then takes her thumb to stroke that sensitive part just underneath the head, making the tiniest circles to make you jerk against your restraints.

“Please, Yujin,” you gasp out, long past the point of desperation. She just keeps massaging the swollen tip of your cock, spreading precum everywhere, and you’re fucking leaking like a faucet, but all you want is for her to ride you, to take you so deep until you’re on the verge of exploding—

But you know there isn’t going to be any mercy when she keeps up those little, teasing touches all over your sensitive head, then wraps those fingers around your shaft again, giving it a light stroke, another squeeze, and she just holds it.

“I love seeing you this hard,” Yujin says, stroking down to your balls, giving them a gentle fondle to draw out some more of your frustration, then returns back up to your tip, getting all that precum that oozes out all over her fingers, using it to coat them while she licks it off.

All this teasing is not only doing a number on you, but Yujin, who cuts her plans to indulge herself short. Her hand speeds up the strokes, pumping up and down your entire shaft, giving your head the most generous amount of attention, and then she lets it all go—lets it smack against your abdomen.

“Gonna ride the fuck out of you, daddy,” she growls, and it sounds like both a promise and a threat, but you’re just happy she’s moved past torturing your cock, watching with bated breath as Yujin aligns herself with your length, grabbing it at the base to position it right against her slit. You can already feel the heat emanating from her dripping folds that kiss your aching cockhead, as she positions herself into a squat, spreading those legs wide, and it’s all so close in reach—that you’re just begging for her to drop those hips.

Then Yujin raises herself just enough to place your tip against her entrance—and there isn't any warning or moment to get prepared before you sink into her warmth, all at once, just until her ass rests on your lap, until every single inch is swallowed up by those velvety walls.

"Oh my god," Yujin groans, and rolls those hips in your lap, savoring that fullness inside her pussy before she even thinks about lifting herself back up. It’s slow and methodical, the first agonizing movement she makes—a long, slow rise of her hips that gets held a little too long before she makes her descent, impaling herself on your shaft, making herself all perfectly stretched out.

Yujin starts riding with all the power in those shapely thighs, fucking herself onto your cock, and you can feel that silky grip take over, the one that squeezes so fucking tight that you hope it never lets you go. It’s the best reward Yujin can give you. You’ve earned it you think, for enduring everything Yujin has thrown at you, and with each stroke of her hips, you feel those wet lips of her slit tightening up, glazing your cock in all her juices when she raises up again, just to slam down hard, burying you in that intense heat.

It all repeats over and over, while the frustration never ends, only being able to watch it unfold, and it’s like she’s taunting you with the use of her hands, playing with your chest, digging her nails against your chest, teasing your nipples before her hands just run all over you.

“Yujin—“ you moan, the first thing that leaves your mouth in quite some time, and it sounds so unbecoming, so pathetic, because you're so, so desperate to get your hands all over those sexy curves, get your tongue all over her beautiful skin. Those hips keep the momentum rolling as they crash against you, the sound of her supple asscheeks making a resounding smack whenever they collide against you, and Yujin rides you just like you’ve yearned for, in a state of peak euphoria, like you're all hers to use for as long as she wants, for as long as she needs.

Being forced into this passive role, it has you more pent up than you can stand, only able to watch your cock get swallowed up to the hilt, without the ability to touch a single inch of that toned body, and Yujin knows it. She’s executing this devious plan of hers to perfection, because she sees the annoyance in your eyes, that you’d give anything to squeeze that perfect ass, lift her up and make her take more of you, but you can’t—and she fucking loves that more than anything.

“Daddy, you like this, right? You like watching me fuck you? Watching me stretch myself on your thick, throbbing cock, fuck—you’re going to make such a huge fucking mess inside me.”

Yujin moves those hips with such ferocity that it gets your breathing all heavy and uneven, becoming a struggle to keep up with that dizzying pace that gets your moans going, getting every last inch deep in her pussy. Her nails dig into your chest like she wants to etch her name there, as she squeezes that perfect little cunt around you, taking you balls deep like it isn’t even a challenge, and nothing gets in her way of doing so.

She fucks herself like there’s something to prove, like you didn’t already know how good Yujin is at riding cock, and then shows off just how wild those hips can really get, starts to fuck you harder than you can comprehend, taking it all to a new level as that body keeps up a brutal pace.

There’s nothing for you to do other than lie there helplessly, but what’s there to complain about when you have the best view of how your cock disappears into Yujin’s suffocating heat? You can feel every orgasmic sensation, those juicy lips that grip so fucking well, and they might never let you go.

“God, Yujin—“ you breathe out, and you can’t even finish a sentence at this rate. Yujin is fucking your cock so fast that the slap of her ass against your crotch becomes hypnotic, the obscene sounds of her dripping cunt being impaled mercilessly get so fucking loud that it almost drowns out any noises Yujin makes.

It’s fucking beautiful to watch how hard those hips can bounce, and Yujin isn’t showing any signs of slowing down, quite the opposite—she’s just taking advantage of your body, riding your cock like she fucking owns it, taking that girth as deep it’ll go. Not a single fucking inch of it gets neglected through those suffocating slippery depths, as she uses you like her own personal toy, and you’ve never been more proud to be treated as such.

Yujin’s so intent on making you hers, leaving scratch marks on your skin as a display, like she wants to really drive home who owns you, and when she takes every inch you have to offer, there’s absolutely no breathing room—and you wouldn’t dream of any. Those careless motions keep herself stretched out, so you can see how much your cock disappears into her pussy, how wildly her breasts bounce with each pump of her hips, how the sweat just runs all down that beautiful body that you wish you could lick clean.

“Daddy, your cock—feels so good, feels so fucking good when you get this deep in my cunt. I’m gonna make you fucking breed me,” Yujin says, and she’s so drunk on lust that her words are slurring, her face a mess of sweat that makes her look even more all too irresistible.

Through the thick of it all, Yujin leans in, demanding your lips, and her kisses are so wet and sloppy that there’s hardly anything left but lust in them. She takes every chance to slip her tongue in your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip every so often just as another show of dominance—a display to make sure you know she’s still got the reins until she pulls away, resuming her focus on taking your cock like a champ.

“I’m gonna make you cum,” she says with such conviction, nothing less than a guarantee, when she takes both your cheeks in her hands, looking deep into your eyes that show every bit of compliance.

The look she flashes nearly gets you creaming inside right then and there, and Yujin looks absolutely depraved. With each sharp drop of those hips, you jerk harder against the handcuffs that shackle you, and it’s only getting tougher to breathe. Yujin only gets tighter and tighter the rougher she gets, putting more aggression into those movements—the harder your hips collide, the faster she goes, until it’s unbearable how good it all feels.

“Daddy’s gonna pump all that hot cum inside me until I’m all nice and filled up.” You’re already too close to comfort to respond with anything but a moan, and you have to grit your teeth just to hold on whenever that pussy tightens, whenever Yujin takes you to the hilt.

And then she hits her climax out of nowhere with one last drop of her hips, a tsunami with no prior warning. She braces herself on your chest, but it’s not enough; she’s shaking, shuddering, legs quivering as she throws her head back, moaning your name, and it’s just so wet—

That greedy little cunt grips tight, tighter than you can bear as Yujin keeps climaxing on your cock, and the waves hit one after the next, making her shriek and scream—but you’re just tugging on your restraints hard enough to leave more marks as you try to hold back from exploding inside that warm velvety heaven.

Yujin’s selfish for more bliss, even before her body can settle down, she’s frantically rubbing her clit to expedite another explosive climax that rips through her body with such ferocity that your cock slips out of her heat—and then she’s violently squirting all over your stomach and crotch, her juices raining down your body in a torrent. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god—“

All at once, that gushing between her legs splashes down everywhere, showing no plans to relent as her legs threaten to give out underneath her, and the sounds that spill out of Yujin are just as unstoppable as the mess that showers you, until her entire body is a shaking mess. The spasms rocking her don’t get any easier to manage, not unlike your cock that twitches in pathetic throbs from the loss of her heat, aching to be sheathed once again.

There’s no pause for Yujin to rest, even if her legs can’t stop trembling, she goes straight to shoving you back inside her at the right moment, because there’s only a modicum of time to spare when she resumes the vigorous riding of your cock, picking right back up where she left off.

“Give me all that cum, daddy, need you to blow that fucking load deep in my cunt. Come on, I know you can’t last any longer. Breed me, breed me, fucking fill my womb, daddy.” Yujin couldn’t sound any more demanding if she tried, and there’s nothing to stop the floodgates from bursting open when your balls tense up, eager to flood her insides.

That’s the last set of words you can comprehend when she slams her hips down one last time, purging every remaining ounce of restraint from your body.

All that’s left to do is groan in ecstasy when her slick, pulsating walls milk that load right out of your cock, pumping it inside Yujin, like her pussy has been begging for it for days. That first spurt is always so intense, and it shoots so fucking deep that your toes curl like crazy, leaving you on the brink of blacking out. There’s just so much cum that gets released into that hot little hole, and you can’t stop moaning her name on your lips, bucking so desperately in the air, while Yujin just keeps rolling those hips, extracting every single drop of that thick seed, and fuck, it feels like there’s so much more left in those balls to drain.

Yujin can just feel your entire body trembling beneath her, how that hot cum fires into her, and she can feel how you throb, your entire shaft twitching when she milks it for everything she can, taking all those spurts that fill her to the brim, until you have nothing left to give.

You’re so fucking drained to the point of feeling delirious—three orgasms in as many hours as you’ve been awake is a lot to endure, but there’s not a thing left in your aching balls, and Yujin knows it. Even with that endless stamina, you think she might finally let you rest when she finishes out the tuckered out gyrations that keep you buried in her sticky folds, clenching around you to earn the last remaining spurts that leave you lightheaded.

“There's so much in me, my pussy just feels too good not to fucking fill up, right? And it feels so good to be daddy’s perfect little cum dump…”

Her cunt doesn’t leave a drop left to spill out, but that’s not going to stop Yujin from keeping your cock nice and hard inside that warmth, while she grinds in slow, tortuous motions to let your climax ride out for as long as possible.

When her hips finally settle and there’s nothing but exhaustion from your lips, Yujin leans forward to move the hair from your sweaty forehead, then runs her fingers through it to help you catch your breath, even as your eyes struggle to stay open.

“Your load feels so good inside me, daddy,” Yujin says, and there’s hardly any fatigue in the way she’s speaking. “It’s just so warm, my pussy feels so full. I made you cum a lot, didn’t I?”

There's a sense of pride in her tone as her hips give one last pump on your spent cock just for good measure. All you can manage is a weak, muffled groan, but that's all Yujin needs, because the satisfaction on her face couldn’t be more obvious when she brings those perfect lips to your own, taking a long kiss that feels like there’s some finale to this all.

Heavy as they feel, you keep your eyelids from falling, just so you can take in Yujin’s beauty, from the sheen of sweat on her soft skin, to the strands of hair sticking to her forehead, and how she looks when her lips curl into this beautiful smile you’re almost certain has a hidden meaning behind, but you’re going to enjoy it anyway.

The end of the line of this all has to be within reach, you figure, (at least you hope), so there's only one thing left for Yujin to do, and the anticipation has never been higher. With widened eyes, you intently watch as she sits up, lifting her hips off you until your cock regrettably slips free of that hot vice—then you’re left with the perfect view of that huge creamy load spilling out of her messy pussy, oozing down her sweaty thighs.

Her slit looks so glistening, and those lower lips are such a fucking mess when your seed drips out of her, but it’s so enticing you can’t look away, not wanting to miss a second of the spectacle.

Yujin spreads her legs a little wider to show you her cum-filled pussy, how it leaks down to the sheets, and then dips her hand in between those thighs, collecting your messy load that you’ve given her, or rather that she’s taken from you onto her fingers, fucking it back into her folds before bringing them to her mouth.

It’s all such a filthy sight that it keeps you hard and throbbing, seeing Yujin lick her fingers clean, humming in delight like it's the best meal she's had, before shoving her fingers right back in her cunt to scoop up more. She keeps giving that thick, gooey load another taste, and Yujin just looks so pleased with herself.

That same look doesn’t dare disperse when Yujin takes her time to crawl over your body, inch by inch, until it fades into something more wicked—and then she seizes your cock, jerking it off hard and fast, because she knows how fucking raw and sensitive it is.

“Fuck, Yujin—god, oh my god, please,” you cry out, but Yujin just keeps stroking away at your overworked length, with nothing but sadistic pleasure etched all over her face. There’s hardly any bliss left in those furious strokes, it’s just pain and pleasure, competing back and forth, with the former sure to take the lead soon enough.

“You're not all tired out are you, daddy?” she asks, with that same grin clinging to her lips as she grips harder around your shaft, squeezing a harsh fist around your tender cockhead, drawing out every ounce of overstimulation. There’s no energy left to protest, and it’s not like anything you would say would convince Yujin anyway.

“I said I was going to keep milking your cock, so come on, daddy—don’t you have more cum for me? Don’t you wanna blow another load?”

You open your mouth intending to plead her to stop, that your cock is too fucking sensitive, but all that comes out are sounds that don’t resemble anything even close to words, nothing but loud, embarrassing whimpers and whines that you can’t hold in. There’s little you can do but lay there as Yujin refuses to stop stroking your cock, looking you right in the eye with that cocky little smile, like she still has a point to make, ensuring every frantic pump she makes is a cocktail of agony and bliss.

“Doesn’t this feel good, daddy? Having your cock jerked off while you stare at my naked body? You can’t be that sensitive if you’re still so fucking hard,” Yujin taunts, with a grip long past painful, and that fucking grin isn’t going anywhere.

Those devilish fingers just keep pumping, keep torturing your cock, sliding over your shaft as Yujin squeezes with so much intensity that you’re barely cognizant of how much every stroke hurts, but she’s prepared to send you towards yet another release that your balls don’t have to offer.

And just like that—in record time, you’re blasting whatever is left from your balls in the short time they’ve filled back up, shooting all over your stomach, glazing your abdomen in this thin, watery semen that doesn't even compare to the previous pleasure Yujin has drawn from your body. But she’s so greedy she won’t give a damn, because milking out such a pitiful, measly load like that still gives her all the satisfaction necessary.

At the very least, Yujin cleans you up, because those pathetic clear strands that splatter across your abdomen belong to her, and she wouldn’t dare let them go to waste. Her tongue drags all the way across your stomach, dipping down to your balls, before flicking up to your cockhead, cleaning off your unbearably sensitive slit.

Yujin spends just enough time using her tongue to play around with your cock to drive you up the wall, licking wherever she can, and then she seals those greedy lips around your swollen head, applying the harshest suction she can muster. You’re not sure what she’s doing can even be classified as pleasure anymore, and it’s all making you squirm so uncontrollably that you’re liable to break those cuffs.

The littlest touch sets all those sensitive nerves ablaze, making you almost blow another load when her mouth slides down to your base, and Yujin just holds you there in her warm throat—one, two, three. It’s just mere seconds, but it all feels like an excruciating eternity when she comes up with a messy pop, planting a parting kiss on your oversensitive tip that’s just dying to be left alone.

She stalls for a moment, letting the anticipation really linger—then out of nowhere, she lets go of your helpless cock as it gets that chance to rest against your stomach.

Yujin doesn’t do anything else, but keep that fucking smug look on her face.

And you’ve never been so relieved.

Yujin swings her legs around your hips, playfully messing up your hair more than it has been. Beads of sweat still cling to her body, but she doesn’t even look the slightest out of breath. “Daddy—“

There’s another pause before she offers up the rest of her thoughts.

“Oh hey, there you two are.”

It’s Wonyoung. Because of course it is. She’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and god knows how long she’s been there. Based on her wet hair, she’s fresh out of the shower, with a white towel wrapped over her petite figure, but still somehow manages to bask in elegance.

Wonyoung takes one look at you on the bed, in your pathetic state of recovery, but unlike before, there’s acknowledgement straight away when she then turns her attention to Yujin. “So that’s why you weren’t answering your phone…”

Yujin looks over her shoulder and smiles at Wonyoung. “We've been a little preoccupied."

"I can see that.” Wonyoung takes a couple of steps inside the room, and looks so amused at the sight of you bound to the bed, her gaze shamelessly wandering along your naked body. “Well, since none of us have class tomorrow, I thought we should all go out for dinner. Get a couple drinks in us without having to worry about being hungover for early morning lectures.”

The last thing you want is to venture out of this apartment, especially in this state of exhaustion, but there’s such excitement in Wonyoung’s eyes when she speaks that you couldn’t fathom turning her down.

Yujin looks back at you, and all you can give is the weakest nod of approval. “Let me get daddy out of these handcuffs, and then we’ll get cleaned up.”

An eerie silence fills the room when the cuffs come off, and you feel like you’ve risen to the surface for air, even though your wrists are rubbed raw and sore. Yujin rectifies this by kissing them with the most tender smacks, massaging her thumbs into your reddened skin, and it feels a little strange to regain the use of them after being without them for so long.

Now, the messy sheets underneath your bodies should probably be tossed—there’s no saving something so stained with copious amounts of sweat and other bodily fluids (yet another reminder that, god, Yujin just squirts so much), and it’s not like she doesn’t have an infinite amount of similar expensive sheets with a matching pattern in her linen closet.

“You know, daddy looks good in handcuffs…” Wonyoung says with a cheeky smile, as she edges closer towards the bed. Between the two women, they share a knowing glance, one that makes them both giggle out loud at once, leaving you a little terrified of what they’re both thinking.

“What are we in the mood for?” Wonyoung thankfully changes the subject to focus back on food, something you’ll never pass up an opportunity to indulge in.

“There’s this new steakhouse that we should try. It’s on the other side of town, but—“

“Oh, I love steak!” Wonyoung says, interrupting the older girl, and again, there’s just so much enthusiasm in her bright voice.

“Steak it is then.” After Yujin dismounts your body, not a single one of your muscles wants to cooperate when you try to lift yourself up. Yujin can’t help but let out a pitiful laugh as she offers assistance, though it ends up being more of a struggle to try to support your dead weight when your limbs refuse to move in tandem with your thoughts.

“You really did a number on him, huh?” Wonyoung asks when she settles beside the older girl on the edge of the mattress, making it dip with the added weight.

“It’s nothing daddy can’t handle.”

That sass in Yujin’s tone is all the motivation you need to lift yourself up, and then, before you know it, you’re on your feet, albeit with wobbly legs that feel like they’re made of jelly.

It’s strange how natural it feels to be in the middle of Yujin’s bedroom, fully naked, while your two pretty roommates sit and stare at your nude form like a piece of meat. The marks on your wrists won’t fade for days, but it’s the least of your worries right now, because the thought of a nice, juicy steak makes your mouth water almost more than Yujin herself.

“…Are we getting cleaned up or not?”

Asking Yujin that is a dangerous gamble, but you know that Wonyoung will keep you on schedule, as you’ll never hear the end of her complaints if you keep her waiting.

“I’ll get myself dressed and wait in the kitchen,” is all Wonyoung replies with, the hem of her towel flirting just above the curves of her ass when she departs. It’s enough to rile up your imagination, but you keep those thoughts suppressed.

Because you’re sure there’s going to be a lot more where that came from before the night is over.

#ive smut #yujin smut #kpop smut #reader insert #izone smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #ive #yujin #ive x reader

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seeingivy · 1 month ago

Text

deja vu

phd!eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

[busstopbilly]: You’re quiet today.

[lizontopoftheworld]: ruminating.

[busstopbilly]: About?

[lizontopoftheworld]: marriage.

[busstopbilly]: ???

[busstopbilly]: About the institution of marriage or of your marriage? Or someone else’s marriage?

[busstopbilly]: Or your marriage to me.

[lizontopoftheworld]: so inquisitive today.

[busstopbilly]: We should make one of those deals where once we turn thirty and we’re both not married, we should just bite the bullet and marry each other.

[lizontopoftheworld]: deal!

[busstopbilly]: How far away are you from thirty?

[busstopbilly]: :D

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re funny

[busstopbilly]: You seem low energy today. Marriage really has you that down?

[lizontopoftheworld]: sorry. i’ve just been rotting since last night. in the mental space if that makes sense.

[busstopbilly]: It makes sense.

[busstopbilly]: Any catalyst to said rotting?

[lizontopoftheworld]: overbearing mother

[busstopbilly]: Classic. She should meet my dad.

[lizonotopoftheworld]: they’d have a joint meltdown.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i just don't understand where people find people.

[lizontopoftheworld]: like how is that PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE

[lizontopoftheworld]: like what are the odds that you like someone at the the same time that they like you

[lizontopoftheworld]: liking someone that you stay together for like…for like years. since highschool.

[lizontopoftheworld]: so many people cheat on other people. or stop liking them. hell, people just get bored of each other!

[lizontopoftheworld]: i do not understand how it happens for other people.

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s just not fair.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i get that it happens for other people but why doesn’t it happen for me? every person i know has been romantically involved with someone and i…i’ve never even gotten close to that

[lizontopoftheworld]: the only person that flirts with me is you. you don’t even know what i look like. and you know. weird guys with small dicks do too but that raerely counts.

[busstopbilly]: I think chemistry is a big part of it. There are certain people that you just tend to feel close and connected to. Sometimes from the first time that you talk. While it does feel rare to you right now, because you’ve never felt it, think of it as a sampling issue.

[busstopbilly]: You just haven’t been around someone who has warranted that out of you yet. But it is physically possible and it will happen for you. I know how annoying it sounds, but it sneaks up under your nose when you’re least expecting it.

[busstopbilly]: People cheat. But people also don’t cheat. I’ve been talking to you for nine months and have yet to get bored. It’s less likely to happen to you - speaking from experience – because talking to you is my favorite part of the day.

[busstopbilly]: Take a breath. It’ll be okay.

[busstopbilly]: If it makes you feel any better, I have the romantic capabilities of a teaspoon. The last time I took a girl on a date was in the sixth grade.

eren calls your name three times. three times before he comes up with the only thing that he can think of, which is poking the side of your temple to get your attention.

but he can’t help it. he takes the few seconds to observe you in full, from so close, because he’s never really gotten the chance. he counts four glittering earrings hanging from your lobe, perfectly matched to your outfit.

eren wonders if that many piercings are uncomfortable. if you matched them on purpose. but retracts the need to ask you that.

eren also observes that you’re particularly tense. that you’re slouching and scrunching up your shoulders up to your neck, that you frown while you’re typing, and that at the very least, you have eyebags that you’re not bothered enough to cover up.

the music blaring through your headphones is obscenely loud. if he’s hearing right, you have an eerily similar music taste to his little sister's favorite pop artists, which he decides is entirely on brand for you.

eren reaches forward, lightly tapping on the side of your temple to get your attention.

he notes that you seem extremely disoriented by the gesture, the loud music blaring through your earphones – which he was positive was going to give you premature tinnitus – ceasing as you pull them out and glare at him.

he also can’t help but notice that you’re looking at him with an insane amount of disdain. granted, almost every time you did look at him you were looking with disdain, but it was…almost amplified today.

he can’t help but notice that he’s too observant when it comes to looking at you. that there’s so much to notice, mainly because he feels like there’s an absence of information that he’s working with as a baseline.

eren’s final conclusion was that you were too reserved. or too reserved when it came to him.

increasingly so, he’s reminded that this is how he had always felt around you. that more apparently, he keeps being reminded it with all the time he’s spending you and it’s irritating to him.

“can i help you?” you ask.

“lab lunch. i just picked it up.” eren offers.

you bite at the side of your lip.

“i love to eat my food cold. i’ll eat it in an hour.” you respond.

eren leans forward, resting his arms on the top of your cubicle as he peers over to the screen of your laptop. he notes that you have three tabs open – two of which were abstracts that you were writing for the upcoming conference – and the last being facebook.

eren wants to observe more. only because he’d rather do that than hear sasha prattle on for the entire lunch.

“you know, levi’s going to come up here to get you anyways.” eren states.

you flare your nostrils, before looking back up at him and glaring.

“well, he can spare himself the trouble. i’m not hungry. and i’m not in the mood for whatever the hell you’re trying to do either.”

eren rolls his eyes.

“did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” eren asks.

you seethe.

“no. i was having a particularly great day before you showed up, actually.”

“it’s my week to pick up the food. meaning, that when you don’t come down, they’re going to blame me and send me back up here. how about you spare me the trouble and just come?” eren asks.

you roll your eyes, slamming the computer shut and giving him an exasperated gesture, and stand up. eren gives you an agreeable smile, the two of you walking in tandem down the steps.

the lunch room is pleasantly quiet, something that you know won’t last for long – and something that wouldn’t help the pulsating feeling that’s been thrumming in your forehead – as you walk over to the table.

you settle for the seat in between levi and gabi, and unfortunately, the one that’s annoyingly across from eren. but today was the day to make that type of sacrifice, because there was no way you would be able to stand the conversation you were positive was going to happen at the end of the table.

“hi y/n.” gabi states.

you give her a halfhearted smile.

“hi gabs. how are you doing?” you ask.

“good, good. how are you? i heard you very intensely smacking on your computer earlier.”

you laugh.

“i’ve just been trying to finish up the grant and abstract submissions for the conference. it’s not that i necessarily hate it, but…writing is the most difficult part of the whole research process for me.” you respond.

gabi gives you a nod, carefully peeling through the wrapping on her sandwich as you follow her suit. eren notes that she shoots falco a look across the way and he shakes his head in response to whatever he’s referring to.

it’s hard enough to keep up when they speak in their weird slang and tongues. now eren had to read their facial expressions too?

“i hate writing too.” falco states.

“no one asked you, falco. i was talking to y/n.” gabi scolds.

falco shoots her an irritated look, one that she returns right back, as you demolish the paper that’s wrapping your sandwich. it tears easily, into small slivers of paper that you fumble with in your fingers.

“you know. you should ask eren for help with that. he’s really good at that type of thing.” gabi offers.

you and eren shoot each other a cautionary look, before the two of you shake your heads.

“i wouldn’t want to impose.” you state.

“i’m very busy, gabi. with all the extra analysis that you asked me to do. stop offering up my time like it’s your own.” eren mutters.

gabi gives him a peachy smile.

“what if i say please?” gabi jokes.

eren glares at her. but you can tell that deep down, he’s amused by her antics. you wonder what she sees in him as a mentor. especially when he does such little mentoring.

“no.” eren responds.

“you might need the help, you know.” falco murmurs.

you pinch your eyes at him.

“you might need it too, sweetheart. you misspell brain as brian every time you write it in your proposal.”

gabi snickers at your side.

“and you misspelled your own name on your application. you’re not one to laugh.” levi murmurs.

eren wonders how much falco and levi must know about you. that naturally, you had to be the type of person to share with those that you actually liked, because most people were, and that they were both probably sitting on stories and stories of information.

like the fact that you misspelled your name in your application.

“you know, that might actually be a good idea.” levi states.

“what? hanging falco at the stake?” you ask.

“i second that.” gabi adds.

“i mean, your writing could use a second pair of eyes. eren’s good at that type of thing to my understanding. and i’ve heard, maybe more times than i’ve liked, that eren’s machine learning algorithm could use some help too, so you two should just get together and work it out.” levi clarifies.

you pinch your lips into a straight line.

“some classical teamwork. what a great idea, levi!” hange states.

“don’t kiss up.” levi responds.

“i really don’t think that’s necessary, levi. i’m sure i can figure it out on my own.”

levi narrows his eyes.

“well, i’m fairly positive you can figure it out on your own. i just don’t see the point of flailing uselessly when there is someone who can help you.” levi asks.

the criticism stings. and it’s one that he offers to you often – that you’re chronically incapable of asking those around you for help. it was a natural state of mind, for you to reason through the thing on your own than rely on other people.

you hate group projects. you prefer when you can control the entire thing from the get go to make sure that it’s up to your standards. and it’s difficult to reconcile with people when you’re not that good at being a people’s person.

in hindsight, your choice of career feels rather ironic.

“i mean, yes but…”

“then you should do it. it’s pretty competitive, especially when you apply under applied neuroscience. it gives you a better chancel.” levi offers.

you sigh, sinking into the divot of your chair, as you look over at eren.

“do you have time on wednesdays?” you ask.

eren pinches his lips into a line.

“sure. we can do the morning.” eren responds, tone gritting through his teeth.

it’s right at that moment that you want to sink into the hole for real and crawl back upstairs to the safety of your cubicle. that you’d have to work with him again, that he’d rip every last typo that you made to shred, and your project in shambles.

it gets worse. because it’s right when sasha, mikasa, and connie prance in, excited voices ringing out into the previous almost silent ambiance of the room.

“maybe we’ll get married in the fall. i’ve always loved fall weddings.” sasha states.

“that would be beautiful. especially with the leaves changing colors and everything.” mikasa responds.

“you always pegged me for a summer wedding type of person. like full open bar, open buffet type situation.” connie offers.

sasha shoots him a glare, his alternate intentions apparently obvious, as she takes the seat four down from you. it’s not far enough because you can still see the sparkling, glittering diamond that’s decorating her ring finger – and at the current moment – it feels like it’s mocking you.

“sasha. congratulations on your engagement. niccolo is a lucky man!”

“thank you so much, erwin. i can’t wait for all of you to meet him at the fall social.”

erwin gives her a polite smile.

“we’ll all be looking forward to it.”

maybe everyone except for you.

in theory, the fall social was a mix of everything that you liked. free food, time to network with people in other departments of the phd programs, and brownie points for making levi look good in front of all of the department heads.

but on paper, it was the worst. because the food was always horrible, the people in the other departments were there looking for casual hookups, and brownie points simply weren’t the trouble.

it also didn’t help that everyone who did have a partner brought them to the event. and all that did was make you think of the seven texts that were lingering in your phone from your mom – a barrage of texts about potential guys who she wanted you talk to, serious questions about when you were going to stop fooling around and settle down.

it was unbearable. you were planning to miraculously get food poisoning the weekend that it was happening.

“i personally hate the fall social.” eren states.

“well, you’ll still be expected to go, eren.” hange retorts.

“so i can make you look good?” eren asks.

hange gives him a full smile.

“preciesly. you can suck it to that idiot in the psychology department.”

“you know. there’s significant overlap between psychology and neuroscience. you would do well to get alone with the people in that department, hange.” erwin states.

hange glares at erwin.

“there’s significant overlap between my irritation and all the people in their department. they’re insufferable. they compromise their data quality all the time.”

“while i’m less inclined to feel murderous at the sight of their presence, i would have to agree. they’re particularly dismissive when valid criticism to their research design and the papers that they publish. i would love to have a word with the peer reviewers.”

eren smiles right back at hange.

“so you want me to go there and brag?” eren asks.

“precisely.” hange responds.

“have you guys ever been to a wedding?” sasha asks.

there goes your three seconds of distraction.

there’s a mixed set of answers. erwin’s been too far too many, levi’s only been to his own. it’s one of the three facts that you’ve been able to categorize about his personal life – that he’s married, that he has two kids, and that he likes to try different brews of tea in his free time. he was the private sort.

connie only attends weddings that have free bars, mikasa’s dreamed about going to one her entire life, and jean, instead of offering the question, chose to make a dig at mikasa and told her that they could go get married right now if she wanted to go that bad.

“have you ever been to a wedding, y/n?”

you nod.

“my brother. he got married a few years back.”

“how much older is he than you?” connie asks.

you shake your head.

“he’s younger.” you respond.

“and he got married before you?” sasha asks.

she was a little traditional in that sense. traditional was a nice word for blunt. because she could rarely stop herself from asking the questions that came to her head and, most of the time, it felt like she never even considered how the other person might feel.

though you suppose she wouldn’t be able to understand, because she was the exact same as porco.

“he’s like you and niccolo, sash. he’s been with his girlfriend since highschool.”

“aw. that’s so sweet. when did they get married?”

“spring. the weather was just right.” you offer.

the last person left to answer is eren. you all turn your heads to him expectantly and he shrugs in response.

“i don’t know anyone who’s gotten married.” eren states.

“you haven’t even gone as someone’s date?” hange asks.

eren shakes his head.

“the last time i went on a date with someone was when i was in the sixth grade.”

“do you think that i could get into the program this time around?” mikasa asks.

“i don’t see why not.” eren offers.

eren thinks about the turn of events often. it’s something that always sticks with him, especially when he’s feeling particularly self destructive and stuck on what’s happening in the present.

the butterfly effect. the timeline. where things went wrong.

everything that lead him to having a painfully awkward conversation with mikasa about whether or not she would be able to get accepted in this round of phd students.

it’s simple. last year, seven students applied and six got in. at the last hour, levi decided that he’s going to reject mikasa and accept you.

at the very least, that’s what eren suspects. there was a preference for students who wer ein the bridge program. five of the students from the bridge program made up the program and there was only one person who was an outsider.

you.

sometimes eren thinks that he’s the only one who realizes that. that even in your honesty, you felt bad for mikasa, but hadn’t done the math to realize that you were the reason that she didn’t get it.

“have you talked to levi about why you weren’t accepted the first time?” eren asks.

mikasa shakes her head.

“it’s an awkward position. to ask him why he didn’t accept me in this round, especially since we interviewed together and all.”

“take it as constructive criticism. he’s only going to give you advice to help you the second time around. and you already meet with him on the project that you’re doing with sasha, so i don’t see why you couldn’t ask.”

mikasa sighs.

“eren. do you think i’m cut out to do this type of thing?” mikasa asks.

“do you even want to do this type of thing?” eren asks.

“what do you mean?”

eren sighs.

“there’s a lot to consider when you decide you’re going to jump into this thing. do you really like your field – enough to be doing it…basically forever? to some extent, you should like the people, especially in a field like ours. research is great, but at the same time, there’s only five to six people on…on the planet who are interested in what you are and adding to what you do.”

that’s precisely what eren hated about it. that it was so limiting, so restrictive when it came to the amount of people he touched.

eren could understand that knowledge touched people. that tangibly, his dad’s name would be in a textbook somewhere forever. but that’s as far as it went. a name that some irritated undergrad would have to memorize for a midterm but that was it.

it might not be something legendary, for years to come. but if he got to do what he wanted, he would at least make a difference where it mattered.

right now.

“do you think that i’m not cut out to do this?” mikasa asks.

“no, i do. i just want you to think about why you want to do it. that’ll help you a lot with what you’re struggling with right now.”

mikasa’s eye twitches.

“so you do think that i’m struggling somewhere?”

eren curses his penchant for being blunt all the time. it seemed that it was often something that got him in trouble, and most cases, it ended up being his downfall.

there were too many things that eren could count that were wrong with him. that he resorted to anger too fast, that he was so observant to the point that it was weird, that he could never bring himself to do what it was that he really wanted.

mikasa didn’t get into the program and he did, he had to ask levi why. his answer was plain in simple.

out of everything that miaksa submitted, levi was still unclear why it was that she wanted to do a phd. if he wasn’t sure of her intentions, he couldn’t be sure of her passion for research.

espeically compared to you.

“i’m giving you generic advice. it’s good to recenter yourself to think about why you’re doing this.”

“i…i don’t know what answer you want from me when you say that. i’m sure this stuff just came to you naturally with your dad and stuff, but i just don’t get what else i could have said.”

the only thing that came naturally to eren when it came to research was how much he hated it.

“look mikasa. i’m going to send you my application. you can read it over, okay?”

mikasa gives him a relieved smile.

“you’d do that?”

“of course. i’ll send it over right now, okay? just go focus on working on your project.”

eren notes that she’s increasingly appreciative of his offer, only because she jumps up and runs away the second he states it. eren reaches for his email, only to be distracted by the messages in the notification bar.

[karina]: oh my fucking god dad is being SO ANNOYING

[eren]: What now?

[karina]: he’s been telling me to do some neuroscience summer camp. i applied for the orchestra program that’s in marley but they overlap so he’s not telling me to do the orchestra thing.

[eren]: 1000%, you’re doing the orchestra camp.

[karina]: bro

[karina]: he’s being so serious about it. and you know how mom gets when he suggests stuff like this.

[eren]: Ignore that. How many days of the neuroscience camp would you miss?

[karina]: two

[eren]: Email them and ask how they treat absences. Worst case, we can make something up and get you out of there so you can finish the orchestra camp and then go.

[karina]: that’s so dramatic eren.

[karina]: i don’t even feel like it’s worth the hassle anymore. i just don’t like to fight with him when he gets like this.

[eren]: I will talk to him. Worst case, I’ll pay for you to go to that orchestra camp myself.

[karina]: eren, that’s just going to cause a bigger fight

[karina]: you know how he feels when we “gang up on him”

[eren]: You should still go if you want to go.

[karina]: dude why are you making such a big deal out of this? it's not that deep

[karina]: sometimes it’s nice to just rant things out. you don’t have to fix everything, you know?

[eren]: I just want to make sure that you go to your orchestra camp. I know that you really care about it.

[karina]: i know eren. i love you, okay? we can talk later.

eren can tell that karina’s being dismissive. that ever since she turned sixteen, karina had gotten more dismissive, only because his dad was getting more strict.

that she hated it when eren told her what to do. that eren couldn't help but tell her what to do.

eren’s too far away to do anything. he’s watching the same thing happen for a second time. mikasa’s bending backwards and forwards for something that she’s unsure about, but the two of them are running as far away from it as he possibly could.

eren can’t help but sink into his chair.

focus group is particularly tame today. only because it seems that this particular round of magnetic stimulations seemed to tire them out more than the last. colt’s still sensitive from the headache that he got following, marco a little quieter than usual.

you reckon that it would take something serious to put a damper on nanaba or shadis’s spirit.

“are you having an existential crisis, eren?” shadis asked.

you look up from your score sheet on your laptop, marked with colt’s signatures, and wait for eren’s response. your sudden interest doesn’t go unnoticed, as both nanaba and marco look right at you, before giving each other a look.

“why would i be having an existential crisis?” eren asks.

“you’re three weeks away from having a manbun. we need to do something about this.” nanaba deadpans.

you tune out the conversation, entirely distracted by the email that’s just popped into your inbox.

Re: Consulting Gabi Braun Hi Y/N, I would love to consult on your friend's case. Let’s schedule a preliminary Zoom session just so I can get an idea of what we’re starting with and get to know Gabi. Also, are you still planning on coming down to Marley in a few weeks for that small conference? If so, we would love to see you while you’re here. Best, Pieck

you can’t help but be irritated. feel patronized. and if you were having a better day, you wouldn’t take it out on her.

Re: Consulting Gabi Braun Thank you. I’ll send you her email so that you can schedule a session with her. Please be gentle, I know this type of stuff stresses her out. Yes, I’m still planning on coming to Marley. I will obviously be stopping to see you guys. How could I come home without doing that? I’ll see you and Porco then. Stay warm over there. Best, Y/N

the swishing sound of the email being sent sends a feeling of dread through your stomach. because you were harsh, because pieck was sensitive to these type of things, and she was going to tell porco.

he was going to tell your mom, your parents were going to worry that you were taking too much on, that you weren’t cut out for the whole phd thing, and just ask you to come back home.

deep down, you knew that most of it stemmed from ignorance. that they just weren’t able to understand exactly what it was that you were doing, so it made it difficult for them to support it fully.

it didn’t make your job any easier.

you slam your laptop shut, reaching for the manilla folders underneath and shuffling through the paperwork for the day.

“if you slam it any harder, you might as well just throw it out the window.” shadis states.

you give him a halfhearted smile.

“i’m very close to reaching that point.” you state.

shadis gives you wide eyes, before barking out into a laugh.

“maybe they’ll admit you here after they do that. for being distressed or something.” shadis states.

“oh, how fun would that be! you could meet my kids when they come visit on a friday.” nanaba states.

you set your pen down.

“if you want me to come visit you on a friday, i can come visit you on a friday, nanaba. i don’t need to have a violent break to do that.” you offer.

her eyes light up.

“really?”

“don’t impose on her free day off, nanaba.” marco responds, his tone almost quiet.

“oh no, i would hate to do that. no no, please don’t come.”

“i don’t do much on my free day off anyways.” you offer.

shadis narrows his eyes at you.

“you know, you have been quiet today. are you fighting with one of your little friends or something?” shadis asks.

“no. my overbearing mother.” you respond.

eren’s ears perk up.

“disgusting.” marco states.

“tell me about it.” you respond.

you shoot eren a polite smile, handing him the stack of papers that you finished processing, as you take the open seat by colt at the bay window. the two of you had exiled gabi and falco to processing appointments down the hall for the time being, which afforded colt the time to be honest without falco’s judgements.

“how are you today?” you ask.

colt shrugs.

“me too.”

“what’s going on with you? besides the overbearing mother?”

“i’m just having one of those days. i can’t find myself in the space to be in a good mood. which happens to me a lot, but it’s just difficult to kind of…maintain energy to act normal.” you respond.

colt sighs.

“tell me about it.”

“are you finding yourself making friends here?” you ask.

“yeah. i like marco.” colt responds.

you smile.

“i like marco too. he’s sweet.” you respond.

“i think you’re my friend. and eren. he stops by on fridays to come see how im doing. always brings me a new book to read.”

you pause.

“really?”

“yeah. he thinsk that it solves two problems with one stone. if i have read it before, it’ll jog my memory. and if i haven’t, i’m slowly building up my repertoire of classic literature. his words, not mine.”

you curl your nose.

“he always uses such pretentious words.”

“you know. you don’t really seem to be too fond of him.” colt observes.

“do you spend most of your focus group observing me?”

“well, it’s the only stimulating thign i do all week. it makes me hypervigilant.”

“he’s not very fond of me either.” you retort.

colt shakes his head.

“i don’t know about that. i’d say that it’s a very strong disdain.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask.

colt shrugs.

“i often find that when you feel particularly strong about someone like that, there’s something else that’s lingering in the background.”

“i suppose. maybe i bring up some childhood memories of little girls pulling his hair in elementary school. now he’s retracting and taking out all his anger on me.” you respond.

eren taps on your shoulder.

“ready to go?” eren asks.

you shoot him a nod, before giving colt’s shoulder one last squeeze and bidding farewell.

“i’m going to check out with forester. can you bring the car around?” eren asks.

“my pleasure.”

eren finds that you’re sitting in the empty cul de sac of the waiting area, with your forehead resting on the steering wheel of the car. the music is blasting from the car again, something instrumental this time, and your eyes are pinched shut in frustration.

eren opens the door of the car and slides into the front street, noting the song that’s playing from the display.

Harry & Hermione - Nicholas Hooper

you immediately reach for your phone, aiming to change the playlist.

“sorry. i was closing my eyes for a second. we’ll be right out.”

“you listen to movie scores?” eren asks.

“hm?”

“the song. it’s part of the half blood prince movie score.”

“oh. yeah, i do. been a big fan of composing since i was a kid. i used to play the violin.”

eren smiles.

“cello.”

you pull out of the cul de sac.

“maybe we can listen to it when we work on the algorithm and the grant later.” you offer.

“sure. i would really like that. but i’m the one who’s going to play the music.” eren states.

you roll your eyes.

“so pushy.”

eren pauses.

"what's your favorite?" eren asks.

"score or individual song?" you retort.

eren pauses.

"score."

"the imitation game."

eren smiles.

"because he's also a scientist?" eren asks.

"it helps. i feel like i'm making groundbreaking moves when i listen to it while working."

"fair enough."

"what's yours?"

"the perks of being a wallflower." eren responds.

the thought that the chosen nickname that ended up being designated for you was wallflower. but he ignores it for the time being.

"we can take turns playing each other scores. i'm not going to let you control the aux in my car every time."

eren snorts.

"pushy. but deal. it's your day, today."

next part linked here

an: idk what's going on. let me live.

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme @elliesbabygirl @miniaturemartian @differentrunawayperson @k0z3me @stroberiz @stillnotherapy @cherryredribbons

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hbyrde36 · 25 days ago

Text

Midsummer Nights (AKA Summer Camp Fic)

WC: 3665 | R: Explicit (for eventual smut) | Ch 2/? | AO3

Ch 1 <-

Chapter 2

“You look like shit,” Robin said, sitting down across from Steve at their usual table in the dining hall, letting the tray she held slam down on the tabletop a little bit harder than necessary.

Steve winced, the loud sound making his head throb painfully. If he didn't know better he’d think he was hungover. “Thanks.”

“I know how much you value honesty.” She shrugged and pushed one end of the tray towards him so they could share, eating a few bites of egg before passing him the fork, trading it for a piece of buttered toast.

No wonder people thought they were a couple.

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he said between mouthfuls of the fluffy scramble. Camp food had never been this good when they were kids, but ever since Hopper found Alexei, mealtimes had actually become something to look forward to.

“First day jitters?” She asked.

“Yeah… and–uh, we had that late arrival?”

“Right, Hopper said. Oh no, did the guy come in all rude and loud in the middle of the night?”

“No, nothing like that. I was still awake anyway. He’s just so—” Steve heaved a sigh, the love-sick tone of it giving him away as easily as if he’d said the words aloud. He pushed his end of the tray aside, laying his head down on the sticky surface of the table.

“Seriously, Steven?” Robin leaned in to hiss quietly. “Are you telling me you have a crush on this guy already?”

“You didn’t see him,” he whined.

“Neither did you!”

He raised back up with a huff. She just didn’t get it. “Sure it was dark, but I saw enough. Trust me. Long hair, tattoos, piercings.”

He’d seen a little not in the dark too.

The second Steve woke up this morning his eyes had fallen once again on the other boy still fast asleep in his own bunk. Half his face was covered by the corner of his quilt, but the sunlight peeking in through the cabin’s small windows fell on the other half, shining on the darkest of dark brown curls, and revealing the long sweep of eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

Robin swiveled in her seat, looking frantically around the hall.

“Don’t bother, he’s not here yet,” Steve mumbled, miserably.

She pouted, digging back into their communal plate.

“He plays guitar, Rob—guitar! Or, I assume he does since he brought one with him all the way from England.” Steve stared off into the middle distance, fantasizing about ringed hands flying across a fretboard. “Imagine what he can do with his fingers.”

Robin wrinkled her nose, frowning. “You have always been a slut for a British accent, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

Suddenly, the double doors at the center of the dining hall burst open, and whether he’d intended to make a spectacle of himself or not, there he was on full display.

The boy.

The one Steve had fallen head over heels for without sharing so much as a hello, without the other boy even knowing Steve existed, with all attention on him while he slunk inside with bleary eyes, frowning as he made his way slowly to the food line.

Though it was late June and sweltering outside, the stranger wore a pair of long black jeans, their slightly oversized hems hanging loosely around a pair of black combat boots. His shirt at least was short sleeved, but also black and emblazoned with the fading name of some band Steve had never heard of.

Drool pooled in Steve’s mouth.

Honestly the whole look was really doing it for him, he sort-of had a thing for alt guys, but the poor dude was going to melt in this heat if he kept dressing like that.

Steve was abruptly brought back down to earth as something small, wet, and a little bit squishy pinged him in the cheek. The blueberry projectile bounced off his face, landing smack in the middle of the remainder of their scrambled eggs.

He cut Robin, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty, a sidelong glare. “What was that for!”

“You’re staring!” She whisper-shouted.

“Everyone is staring!”

“Not like they want to eat him! The rest of us are simply observing. Like watching a bear at the zoo… If that bear had his ears gauged and wore a wallet chain.”

Steve picked one of the small cartons of milk off their tray, sipping from it to stop himself from saying exactly what he’d like to do with that wallet chain. All the better to wind his hand around and reel his crush in for a kiss with, as far as he was concerned.

Robin looked back over her shoulder to take another peek at the dark-haired boy.

“And black nail polish.”

Steve snorted a laugh, a bit of milk dribbling out of his nose in the process.

Robin lost it, her cackling laughter mixing with his own to echo loudly through the metal building, drawing all eyes to them—including the object of Steve’s affection.

Shit.

The newcomer’s head whipped around in their direction, a scowl already painting his features as he and Steve locked eyes for a heart stopping moment.

Steve dropped the other boy’s gaze quickly and threw a hand over his own mouth, reaching across the table to swat Robin on the shoulder and get her to shut up too.

“What?” she asked, turning around and making an obvious show out of it.

Steve wanted to crawl under the table and hide. He risked another glance and—yup! Mr. tall, dark, and hot-as-fuck was still staring daggers at the two of them.

“Oof.” She spun back, grimacing.

Steve groaned. “He probably thinks we were laughing at him now.”

“Nah,” she waved a hand in an unconvincing show of casual confidence. “I bet that’s just his face.”

“Do you have any friends other than me?” Steve asked.

Because sometimes… sometimes he wondered.

“No comment.”

As they finished their breakfast Steve kept his eyes firmly on his own table, afraid that if he tried to keep tabs on his new crush he’d get caught staring again. By the time he and Robin were done eating and he got up to deposit their last bits of food and the plastic flatware in the trash, he’d almost convinced himself that she was right. Not that the boy he liked always wore a perpetual look of irritation, but that his sour mood likely had nothing to do with them.

It was hot out, it was early, and the guy had to be exhausted after a long day of travel and too little sleep.

Too distracted with his thoughts, Steve didn’t hear the footsteps or the jingle of chains approaching. He added the now empty tray to the pile to be washed, turning to head back to his table without looking and accidentally shoulder checked someone coming up behind him.

Hard.

“Oi!” The dark-haired boy cried out, stumbling back with flailing arms.

Steve reached out automatically to steady him, gripping his slender waist. “Sorry!”

The boy made a face, shaking off the touch as he reared back. “Bellend,” he spat under his breath, walking away before Steve could say another word.

Mortified, and surely red in the face, Steve shuffled back to his seat.

“Smooooth,” Robin said, drawing the word out.

“Shut up.”

She reached across the table to pat his hand, half comforting, half patronizing. “What did he say to you, anyway?”

“He called me a bell end?” Steve said, a little unsure. He’d heard a decent amount of slang from other countries before, but clearly not enough. “I don’t know what it means but I'm pretty sure it wasn’t good.”

“I think he–” Robin snapped her mouth shut, sealing her lips tight but laughter bubbled up in her throat and inevitably spilled out anyway. “Basically, he called you a dickhead.”

“Great,” Steve grunted, “even insulting me he sounded hot. I’m so pathetic.”

“What else is new?”

A sudden shrill, ear-piercing tone cut through the air, the feedback from Hopper’s ancient microphone threatening to burst all their eardrums as he switched it on, giving it three quick taps to test if it was working.

“Good morning!” The older man bellowed, mouth too close to the mic, as usual.

There were a few quiet, half hearted returns of his sentiment from some of the older staff, while the rest only sat in silence.

“I said… good morning!” Hopper tried again, obnoxiously.

This time everyone, even Steve and Robin, gave an enthusiastic response, if only to move the announcement process along.

“That’s more like it. I want to take a moment to welcome all of you, new and returning staff alike, to the start of pre-camp 1999! As always, the owners and I are looking forward to making this summer even better than the last, and that starts with all of you. I’ve gone ahead and broken you into groups of two. When I call your name please see my wife, Joyce—” Hopper pointed down one end of the room, raising his voice as though it wasn’t already booming through the large speakers situated on either side of the hall. “Wave your hand, honey, so they can find you.”

The small woman—who’d been Steve’s surrogate mother every summer for as long as he could remember—stood, beaming as she raised her palm up high.

“She’ll give you and your partner your assignments for the day. Lunch will be grab and go, so just wander back in here whenever you feel like you need a break and remember to drink plenty of water!”

Steve and Robin shared a glance, letting out matching sighs of relief, sure that Hopper would pair them together.

However, the feeling was short-lived.

After only a handful of other pairs were called, Hopper shouted, “Buckley! McNulty!”

Son of a bitch.

“Who’s that?” Steve asked, annoyed, watching an unfamiliar redhead a few tables away rise, wiggling her fingers in Robin’s direction before trotting over to where Joyce sat.

“That’s Vickie, she’s new,” Robin swallowed audibly, turning to him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Steve, I can’t believe he’s doing this to us! She’s so pretty, how do I even talk to her?”

“Oh how the tables have turned,” Steve teased. “Karma! That's what you get for making fun of me all morning.”

No sooner had Robin got up and walked away, subtly giving him the finger behind her back, when Hopper called out the next two partners.

“Harrington! Munson!”

Unease crawled up Steve’s throat.

Another unfamiliar name. With the smallest shred of hope he thought back to meeting Argyle the day before. Had he said his last name?

Steve didn’t think so, and one look around the room confirmed his fears.

A head of thick, dark, wild curls was already making its way towards Joyce.

Great.

Steve got up, rushing behind the other boy, catching up just as Joyce was rounding her table, standing on tip-toe to throw her arms around his shoulders.

“Oh honey, it’s so good to see you!” She pulled back, looking Steve up and down like a proud parent who’s just realized how much you’ve grown. “I’m sorry about separating you and Robin, but we thought it’d be better to pair new folks with those who were more familiar with the camp.” She stepped away, grinning as she looked between him and the other boy—Munson—who’d temporarily lost his scowl in favor of a polite, if tight-lipped, smile.

“You and Mr. Munson here, are gonna take on the boathouse and waterfront area today.” Joyce went on after consulting her clipboard. “There's a checklist on the wall just inside the door of the building.”

Munson tipped his head in a nod before walking off towards the bathrooms.

Joyce met Steve’s eye with a raised brow. “He’s a quiet one.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed absently, still watching the other boy’s back move away with half an eye.

“Good thing he’s got you,” Joyce said, with a wink. “I'm sure you’ll do your best to make him feel welcome.”

After he finished helping to wipe down tables, Steve found Munson already out by the boathouse, easy enough for even a newbie to locate, being the only building near the lake and dock. He had his eyes closed, kicked back and lounging on an upturned canoe smoking a cigarette, face tilted up to the sun.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Like a scene from a music video, it was as if this guy was ripped right out of Steve’s dreams and made real. For once he was thankful for the heat. He could blame his sudden sweat and red cheeks on that.

In an effort not to startle Munson and have yet another embarrassing encounter before they’d even exchanged first names, Steve made sure to drag his feet a little through the dirt and stone as he got close.

When that elicited no reaction, he cleared his throat, stopping near the end of the canoe, casting a shadow over Munson’s spot.

The stunning figure pursed his plush lips, blowing out a long plume of smoke right in Steve’s face, and finally cracked one eye open, squinting up at him.

“I–um, y-you can’t smoke on campus once the kids are here,” Steve stammered.

Oh god, why was that the first thing he said?

Munson rolled his eyes, sliding off the side of the boat to stand, pinching the end of his cigarette between his fingers to put it out before slipping it into his pocket. “Got it, boss.”

“Um, S-Steve? I-I mean, I'm Steve.”

Aaand, he continued to sound like an idiot.

Awesome.

Steve managed to resist the urge to smack himself in the forehead, but only just.

After a long pause the other boy raised a single pierced eyebrow. "Call me Eddie."

“Eddie.” Steve nodded dumbly as he slowly backed away. “There’s… checklist. I’ll just—” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the big roll up door that would open the boathouse, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Eddie, turning to open it up.

The list of tasks was expected enough. Less expected was how much of a disaster he’d become.

Steve skimmed the paper over as he took it and the clipboard off the wall, taking a few deep, calming breaths before walking back out to face Eddie again, and promptly choked on his own air.

Eddie had pulled a small object from his pocket, and with a casual flick of his wrist, a blade appeared in his hand. He bent down, setting it against his inner thigh, carefully slicing through the thick denim all the way around. He tore the last few inches by hand before repeating the process on his other side.

The reveal of long pale legs had Steve practically hyperventilating, a situation not helped in the slightest when Eddie proceeded to set the blade to his shirt sleeves next.

Steve must have made a sound or something, because Eddie glanced up as he finished cutting his homemade tank top to go with his new shorts, finally noticing him standing there.

Eddie’s lip curled in a sneer. “What you looking at?”

For a second Steve could only stand and stare openly, his brain completely offline. He’d already seen the ink decorating Eddie’s forearms—a swarm of bats and some creepy puppet guy—but now he could also see an unusual dragon on the boy’s upper arm, and with the sleeves of his shirt now cut out and wide, Steve got a peek of even more artwork on his chest.

“I-I w-wasn’t… I mean, y-you—you’re…” Steve sputtered as his brain booted back up slowly.

“Whatever, mate,” Eddie said, pointing his pocket knife in Steve’s direction before flicking it closed and slipping it from sight. “And before you talk to me like I'm a bloody moron again, I know kids and knives don’t mix.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, running a hand over the back of his neck. He dropped his eyes back down to the list. Maybe if he focused on the task at hand, he could stop digging this fucking hole for himself.

First order of business was to drag the rest of the boats and kayaks outside, check them over for wear and tear and stack them on their racks.

They moved around each other in silence, only interacting when they had to work together to move the two longest canoes. When that was done and it was time to place the chairs out to the sandy shore of the lake, Eddie was dripping sweat and obviously struggling, but seemingly refused to ask for or suggest a break.

Steve had them sort the lifejackets next instead, something they could do sitting in the shade with two ice cold bottles of water.

More than once Steve opened his mouth to say something in conversation, anything to break the building, palpable tension, but each time he cringed, remembering how badly he flubbed things so far, and thought better of it. A wise move considering that every time he forgot to rein himself in, and accidentally stared at the other boy a little too long he’d earn a new dirty look.

They took a late lunch, only sitting down long enough to inhale a few sandwiches each before returning to work.

Soon enough the day was nearing its end, and the only things left to do were take stock of the fishing equipment, and swim out from the dock to place the buoys and rope floats for the season, demarking the swimming area from the rest of the lake.

“My trunks are up at the cabin…” Eddie trailed off, the most words he’d spoken at once since they started.

“I’ve got it,” Steve offered, shedding his cargo shorts to show his swimsuit hiding underneath. “I don’t mind, if you’d rather check the rods and tackle.”

Eddie looked away quickly, clearing his throat as he did an about-face. He waved a hand over his shoulder, which Steve took to mean he’d accepted the division of labor.

The lake was cool and refreshing after so long in the sun, and Steve felt his mood lift for the first time all day, even welcoming the tickle of pondweed on his feet while he treaded water, carefully tying the ropes out where they belonged. He took his time swimming back in, reveling in the feel of water gliding over his skin until he reached the doc where Eddie’s black-clad form was already waiting.

Steve wondered how long the other boy had been watching him.

They were done for the day, Eddie could have just left, but instead he leaned out over the edge, reaching a hand down to help Steve out of the water. Though the ladder was only feet away, he took it, the skin of his palm tingling at the contact.

“Thanks,” Steve breathed, lips parted.

The second he was safely on the dock Eddie let go, clenching his fist at his side as he spun and walked away without a word.

Steve watched his retreating figure make its way up the hill to the road that led to the cabins, and couldn’t help thinking, this was going to be one long summer.

”He hates me,” Steve bemoaned, for the umpteenth time, while he and Robin stomped through the thick undergrowth, searching for the path that would lead them through the woods along the edge of camp property to the not-so-secret clearing where counselors got together to party after sundown.

They’d find the spot one way or another. Steve could already see the flickering light of the bonfire in the distance and hear the sound of music drifting through the trees, tinny and staticky from the blown speakers of Jonathan’s old boombox.

“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” Robin asked. “You said he pulled you out of the water, that doesn’t sound like someone who hates you.”

Steve shook his head, not that she could see him in the dark. They’d have to remember to bring a flashlight next time.

“Maybe he’ll be here tonight,” she said. “You could offer him one of your disgusting lukewarm beers and bury the hatchet once and for all.”

Steve harrumphed, hugging the six pack of rattling bottles to his chest. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just another stupid crush that’ll go nowhere, anyway. Let’s face it, I'm destined to get my heart broken by straight boys for the rest of my life.”

Robin stifled a giggle.

“What now,” he groaned.

“You think Eddie… is straight?” She asked in a horrible, and frankly offensive, English accent.

Steve could only hope she never did it in front of the boy in question.

“You don’t?” He asked.

“He’s some flavor of gay, I'd put money on it,” She said emphatically. “Whether he actually knows that about himself yet or not? Remains to be seen.”

“How do you do tha—ow!” A sharp sting had Steve sucking air through his teeth, slapping at his neck to ward off mosquitos. “How do you read people like that?”

“Well, in this case, uh… I have eyeballs?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t convinced she was right but he couldn’t deny that her assessment had awakened a small spark of hope in him. Even if she was wrong, or if Eddie just simply didn’t like him like that, it couldn't hurt to keep trying to make friends.

Right?

Unfortunately, when they finally entered the clearing and Steve took a look at the faces gathered around the fire, Eddie was nowhere to be found. He spent the next two hours sharing half a tree stump with Robin and getting drunk about it.

When he eventually stumbled back to his cabin for the night, he found Eddie still fully dressed, snoring loudly, face down and completely passed out on top of his covers.

Adorable.

Steve kicked off his shoes and followed suit, only pulling off his shirt before falling onto his own still made-up bunk.

It was too warm for blankets anyway.

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson

#steddie fanfic #summer camp fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #summer romance #friends to lovers #british eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 2 years ago

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where honesty is always the best policy. Except when it isn't?

Part One of the Twenty Second installment of the Skz!pack Prequel Series.

A/N: We're back, bitches. Buckle up.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, skz!pack, skz!abo, poly!skz, omegaverse, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, yang jeongin, kim seungmin, y/n, skz angst, skz fluff, skz drabble, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, Skz!pack prequel, pack!prequel, prequel series

Genre: Angst, Light Fluff

Warning: Past Trauma, Fear of Thunderstorms

Title: Lie To Me; Part I

“So we can all agree that we’re struggling with this, yeah?” Chan asks, tapping his fingers along his glass in a sort of anxious motion, his expression serious.

You can see the weight on his shoulders from across the table.

Minho takes a sip of his own drink and replies back casually, “Not me. I’m fine.”

Changbin immediately scoffs and you snort, narrowing your gaze on the alpha leaning against the counter, your voice sharp as you retort, “You’re so full of shit. We all know you’re on edge. You and Changbin haven’t been at each other’s throats this much since we started dating.”

Minho shrugs, but doesn’t offer a defensive quip in return, and that tells you all you need to know.

He’s notorious for trying to act like shit doesn’t bother him, stubborn as a mule when it comes to keeping things ‘normal,’ but you know him too well by now, you all do.

He’s just as uneasy as the rest of you.

Changbin drums his fingers on the kitchen table, looking slightly annoyed. “It’s such bullshit that it’s even a thing in the first place.” He sighs, reaching up to run his hand once again through his already disheveled hair, and when he continues, his voice is softer. “But I can’t just keep ignoring him, you know? I’m going to go fucking crazy.”

You and Chan nod in agreement, in understanding, and you find Changbin’s fingers under the table, wrapping them in the safety of your own and giving him a squeeze.

“Trust me. Nobody gets it more, Binnie.”

Minho sets his empty glass in the sink and approaches the table, leaning his hip beside Chan as he moves his piercing gaze between the three of you, lips pulled into a thin, stern line, arms crossed over his chest.

“Moping about it isn’t going to do anything. We need to do something. Decisions have to be made.”

Changbin scoffs almost tiredly from beside you. “So what, we just, cut him off? Forbid him from being around?” He narrows a glare on Minho. “That’s gonna fucking hurt a lot of people we care about, Minho.”

Minho remains unyielding, holding the other alpha’s gaze. “If that’s what we have to do, at least until he presents, than yes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Chan holds out his hands between the two, as if worried one of them is going to leap over the table and go at it right here in the kitchen.

With how on edge everyone currently is, they just might.

He blows out a long, controlled breath through his nose, and sits back in his chair, still eyeing the two of them warily before he says firmly, “That’s not what anyone’s suggesting, Bin, okay? We just need to figure some shit out.”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously, your fingers still gripping a little bit tighter than necessary around Changbin’s forearm, his skin warm and flushed beneath your hold. You glance between the two of them, softening slightly. “I know he’s become an important part of our lives, of the pack’s lives, and we’re not trying to sever that or undermine it in any way. Minho-” You glance up at the other alpha, his expression unreadable. “-you can try to deny it all you want, but we know you have a soft spot for the kid. You’re not as impenetrable as you lead everyone to believe.”

Minho’s chest rises and falls with a breath, and he looks away from your gaze.

Chan sighs heavily. “So what the fuck do we do?”

“Our alphas don’t like him around because he’s unpresented.” You muse, thinking hard, playing with the condensation on your empty glass as you go over options silently in your head. “Because of that factor, there’s no way to establish set pack order, too many uncertain variables, and alphas aren’t recognized for their love of the unknown.”

Chan nods thoughtfully, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. “Right. But everyone else is okay with things being up in the air for now.”

“So maybe.” Changbin cocks his head, eyes lighting up with an idea. “Instead of removing the kid from the equation until he presents, we remove ourselves.”

“It’s gonna fucking suck.” You admit, glancing between them all. “But it might have to be done.”

Minho scoffs beneath his breath, his fingers gripping the back of Chan’s chair until they turn white. “So what, we just make excuses every time the kid’s around?”

“Basically.” Changbin stands up, dropping his used glass into the sink next to Minho’s, before he leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “We avoid interactions that involve him until further notice.”

“Do we tell them?” Chan asks suddenly, eyes skimming over you all, looking for reactions. “The rest of the pack, I mean.”

Changbin shakes his head, and you immediately reply, “No. Because word will get back somehow, and that’ll just make him feel worse about the fact that he’s not presented. And I’m sure he gets enough shit from the freshman at the dorms over that already. I’m not gonna add to that.”

Chan nods in understanding, and Minho pops his jaw in open annoyance.

“Keeping secrets is gonna fuck us over in the end, you know.”

“You have a better idea?” Changbin challenges, as they glare each other down, and the tension in the room rises noticeably once more.

“Please, try me right now, meathead, I dare you.”

Chan sighs tiredly, and you stand from the table, glaring back and forth between the two tense alphas.

Wisteria blooms warningly in the small kitchen.

“Fucking knock it off, will you? This situation sucks enough already as it is. We don’t need the two of you coming to blows in the middle of the kitchen like two grade school kids who can’t control their temper tantrums.”

Changbin drops his gaze, but Minho remains rigid beside you.

You turn to him.

“Min.” You lower your voice, your words firm. “It won’t be forever. And none of us are thrilled about this, but we’ve gotta think of the pack.”

He flicks his dark eyes to you, but says nothing.

A calming wave of petrichor replaces your scent in the air around you, and Chan’s fingers find Minho’s on the back of his chair as he says quietly, “C’mon, Min. It’s not us against you here. We’re on your side. Drop the hackles please?”

Minho’s shoulders relax a margin of an inch, and his chest heaves with a deep breath, but he doesn’t look like he immediately wants to murder Changbin anymore, so you guess that’s as good as an answer for now.

Footsteps sound, and Hyunjin appears in the doorway, features disgruntled, and lemony scent unusually bitter, as he quickly surveys the four of you and then pushes past to the fridge without another glance.

“I wasn’t aware there was a meeting of the big bad wolves scheduled for this morning in the middle of my fucking kitchen.”

Changbin cuts his gaze to the clearly annoyed omega sharply, watching with narrowed eyes as Hyunjin violently pours himself a glass of orange juice, slamming the fridge door shut for emphasis.

“Who pissed in your cheerios?”

Hyunjin levels the alpha with a glare, so unlike his usual self, and shakes his head, already headed for the door.

“Forget it. I have a headache. Don’t let me interrupt.”

He disappears without another word, and Changbin glances to the three of you in open disbelief.

You shrug, just as lost as he is. “Hangover?”

Changbin clenches his jaw, a muscle ticking beneath the tan, stretched skin.

At the table, Chan sighs deeply.

“Okay, so we might have to avoid two people for the time being.”

*******

Hyunjin hasn’t said a word to you since your lab started twenty minutes ago.

He took his seat in silence, he pulled out his supplies in silence, and now he’s taking notes-in silence.

You give him another sidelong glance-probably the fiftieth in five minutes-and he sighs, voice irritated, but pen still writing, as he snaps out without looking up, “Stop staring at me.”

You clear your throat and try to focus on your own paper.

But when, in five minutes, your pen stalls in scratching out notes, and you find yourself back to staring at his side profile, lingering for a little longer than necessary, you know it’s no use.

Hyunjin’s body tenses, his fingers whitening around his pen, as if he can feel your eyes on him once again, but before he can say anything a second time, you blurt out, “Are you okay?”

His pen trails to a stop.

And then he says, “No.”

And goes back to jotting down notes.

You fiddle with your own pen for a minute, warring over whether you should push him on this, the scent of lemons bitter in your nose, and then finally you ask, softer this time, “What’s wrong, Hyunjin?”

His pen comes to another halt, and he lets out an annoyed huff of air from his nose, turning to face you as he arches a brow, anger flickering across his dark eyes.

“You mean, besides the impromptu meeting of the Big Bad Wolf Brigade in my kitchen this morning?”

You hold his gaze, not backing down in the face of his obvious agitation, and he sighs again, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots slightly, before he fires back with, “I don’t know, okay? I just feel-” He shrugs helplessly, throwing his pen down on the half finished page of notes in disgust. “-off.”

You study him for another long moment, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, and then ask again, “Are you sick?”

Hyunjin shakes his head jerkily. “No. I just-” He rubs at his temples with long fingers. “-don’t feel like myself.”

“Okay.” You nod once, picking up your own pen once more and turning back to your notes, feeling slightly better now that he’s answered you. You scratch out another sentence before you glance sidelong at him. “Well, let me know if I can help, yeah?”

Hyunjin stares down at the table, making no move to pick back up his own writing utensil, as the silence stretches between the two of you.

Finally, he heaves another sigh and reaches for the discarded pen.

He doesn’t look at you as he says defeatedly, “Movie night.”

You hum beneath your breath, not looking up from your notebook, but your wolf chuffs in approval at the omega’s concession, before you repeat back in confirmation with a nod, “Movie night.”

*******

“You are literally so fucking pretty.”

Hyunjin scoffs at your words, but you don’t miss the slightly pink hue to his cheeks as he glances up at you where you play with his hair from his spot in the omega dorm’s large, communal tub.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously.” You protest, letting the long, soft strands of his hair sift through your fingers, admiring the way the dark color shines in the soft light.

“I know I’m pretty.” Hyunjin remarks flippantly, eyes blinking up at you innocently. He gives you a lopsided smirk. “How else do you think I bagged all you dumb alphas?”

You lean down and flick some of the warm, scented bath water up into his face in retaliation and he splutters dramatically in response.

“You’re right, because it’s definitely not your personality.”

The omega glares at you halfheartedly, and you laugh, leaning over him to reach for the shampoo you had brought with you, pouring a dime sized portion of the sweet smelling soap into the palm of your hand.

You begin to work the shampoo through Hyunjin’s hair, working it into a lather, your fingers scratching along his scalp, and he relaxes back into the touch, even though he’s still clearly pouting, arms folded across his chest.

You lean over to catch his gaze, and he sticks his tongue out at you.

“You have a great ass though.” You offer as a sort of olive branch, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but you see some of the dramatic offense from earlier fade from his expression at your words.

“I know that. Obviously.”

You hide a smile and go back to shampooing his hair.

There is silence for several long minutes, your fingers working through Hyunjin’s hair over and over, as the omega grows more and more relaxed beneath your touch, sinking into the cooling water of the bath, and then finally, he says, “I’m sorry. About earlier.”

“It’s fine.” You reply back easily, because it is, and then hum under your breath as you take your hands from his head, gesturing for him to hand you the cup resting on the side of the tub, “Time to rinse.”

Hyunjin leans his head back, closing his eyes, and you rinse his freshly shampooed hair clean of all the suds, watching as the water turns clear, before you set the cup back in its spot.

It takes him another moment to open his eyes, his head still leaned back on the lip of the tub in front of you, staring up at you from his reclined position with an unreadable look on his face.

It’s your turn to stick your tongue out as you ask, “What?”

He furrows his brow and shakes his head, sitting up again as he leans forward in the perfumed bath water.

“Nothing, okay? I’m just being weird. Forget it.”

You shift around the edge of the tub so you can meet his gaze again, expression going firm as you flick more water in his direction. “Nuh uh. That’s not gonna fly. Spill.”

Hyunjin sighs-heavy and dramatic-and rolls his eyes heavenward, before he says with clear, awkward resignation, “I guess I’m kind of in love with you or whatever.” You giggle, and Hyunjin slides his gaze to you, lips pulled into a clear pout, eyes wide and dark.

“What the fuck, noona? Is this how you responded to Changbin spilling his guts too?”

“Nah.” You shake your head, still laughing, warm head to toe, as you lean forward and pull the plug on the now lukewarm bath water. “But I kinda said it first in that situation, so.”

Hyunjin is still staring at you, wet hair plastered to his shoulders, and you decide to have mercy on him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips before you stand to retrieve the towel.

You give him a smile over your shoulder.

“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since the moment you sat down beside me and introduced yourself during our first lab freshman year. And that’s never gonna change.” You fling the towel at him, holding out your hand to pull him up. “Now come on, let’s go watch a movie.”

***************

Hyunjin is still grumbling-but dry and fully clothed-when you make it back to his apartment.

“Fuck, I have a headache.” He complains, slumping down on the pile of blankets creating a makeshift nest on the couch.

You stare at him for a moment, your wolf whining that something is off, but shaking your head, you give him an easy smile and head for his bathroom, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll get you some painkillers. Queue up the movie.”

You’re digging through Hyunjin’s messy bathroom cabinets when you hear a knock at the door, some shuffling, and then the low tones of Hyunjin’s voice talking to someone.

You’re sure it’s just one of the pack Hyunjin probably forgot to tell you he invited over to join in on movie night.

You perk your ears in interest, though you haven’t caught a scent yet, and head back to the living room, pain killers held triumphantly aloft in hand.

“I found the-”

Everything inside of you freezes, your words dying off, as you catch sight of a head of shockingly red hair peeking over the top of Hyunjin’s couch.

Jeongin.

“Oh, hey, noona!” Jeongin turns at your entrance, face split with a smile, eyes screwed tight, and it takes everything in you to not turn and run.

Because while the wolf part of you is growling in unsure warning-antsy and nervous-the human part of you is very much begging for you to close the distance and take the red headed boy in your arms, pressing your nose to his hair and cuddling his warmth.

It’s a war you’re not entirely sure can be won.

“Oh. Hey.” You stutter out, carefully skirting around the couch where Jeongin currently sits, your eyes never leaving his face.

You shove the painkillers into Hyunjin’s hand without really looking, and he pauses in picking a movie, looking at you sharply, and you’re sure he can smell the way your scent has suddenly gone haywire.

“What-” The omega starts to ask, but before he can, you stumble over yourself, suddenly desperate to get out of there.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Innie.” You force a smile that you don’t feel, the words from this morning ringing loudly in your head, your blood whooshing in your ears.

We remove ourselves.

Hyunjin is staring at you like he knows something is wrong, but can’t quite figure out what.

“Yeah, I invited him.” He finally says, and Jeongin’s smile has disappeared off his face. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, sure.” You wave your hand, not looking at either of them, shoving your feet into your shoes with clumsy, numb fingers.

Your wolf is snarling now, teeth bared, warning you not to leave your omega alone with an unpresented outsider.

Your scent is sickly thick in your own nose as you make a dive for your keys and fumble with the doorknob.

“I just forgot, I have something tonight. I’ll see you guys later, okay? Another movie night. Rain check. Have fun though.”

Hyunjin’s lips have pursed into a thin line, and Jeongin looks openly hurt-large eyes wide and dark-but you force yourself to ignore them both, and not waiting for a reply, hurry out the door.

You breathe easier-out of the apartment, away from the two boys-and as you take the steps two at a time down to the lobby and shove open the doors of the omega dorm, you take in a deep, gasping inhale, slowly letting it out as you head off down the sidewalk, away from the building.

Your heart slows in your ears as you walk aimlessly, no real destination in mind, and your breathing grows less ragged, but your wolf is still irritatingly antsy.

The look on Jeongin’s face-

You shake your head violently, pushing that thought from your mind, and urge yourself into a sprint, taking the sidewalk that leads down to the quad and the woods without really thinking about it.

It’s nice, to get your blood pumping and the wind in your ears, your feet slapping the pavement in an easy rhythm, and by the time you reach the edge of the forest that borders campus, you’re breathing hard again, but from exertion this time.

Bending over, resting your hands on your knees to catch your breath, you feel your phone chime in your pocket.

You bite your lip, toying with the idea of not looking at it all, but finally pull it from your back pocket and glance at the lit up lock screen.

Hyunjin.

You blow out the breath you’ve been holding-long and slow through your nose-and without reading the text, stuff your phone back once more into the safety of your pocket.

You’ll apologize and explain later.

Right now, you just need to clear your head.

You start jogging again, dodging trees and low hanging branches, and fall into a nice rhythm.

It doesn’t matter where you’re going right now-the cool, dark air of the woods feels good against your heated skin, and the slight fog that always clings to the ground here, regardless of weather or time of day, slithers around your shoes like an old friend welcoming you home.

You’ve maybe been running for fifteen minutes when the first drop of rain hits your face, sliding down the bridge of your nose and dripping off your chin.

You slide to a stop, glancing up at the sky through narrowed eyes, and the dark gathering of puffy clouds above your head signals more rain is about to hit any second.

Dammit.

You heave a sigh, and turn back the way you came.

The slight misting of rain turns to a torrential downpour before you even reach the edge of the trees, and when a sharp crack of bright lightning lights up the sky above you, the thunder roaring behind dangerously close overhead, you dive beneath the safety of a nearby river bank without even thinking.

Your heart is pounding once more in your ears, and you swallow hard, mouth and throat suddenly very dry.

Your blood roars, pounding in your head into the start of a headache, and you squeeze your eyes shut as another flash of lightning turns the trees around you into twisted, distorted shapes in the quickly dwindling light.

You fist your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and count to ten in your head, lips trembling and teeth chattering as another round of thunder shakes the ground beneath you.

You know the signs. You’re dangerously close to a panic attack.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You swear in a constant, vehement stream beneath your breath, tucking your dirty sneakers beneath you as you curl your legs protectively to your chest.

Resting your forehead on your knees, you try to take deep, slow breaths, and force yourself to picture Chan, the scent of petrichor filling your nostrils coming from the alpha you love and feel safe with, but his influence can only do so much against the onslaught of the storm roaring around you.

It’s one thing to feel comfortable around another alpha’s scent, it’s another thing entirely to forget everything in your life that has happened in the rain.

Another clap of thunder, and you’re huddling into yourself, slapping your hands frantically over your ears.

The wetness on your cheeks is tears, not rain.

Just like before.

‘You don’t have to go!’ Your fingers are grabbing the hem of his coat, and though he doesn’t look at you, he stops, which gives you hope.

‘I do.’

‘No!’ You cry out, and your ten year old voice is high and shrill, a loud boom of thunder drowning out your wails. ‘Please don’t go. Don’t go.’

Your cries turn into whimpers, and he still doesn’t turn.

Instead, he shakes his coat free from your fingers and opens the car door.

‘Please.’ You sob, and he shakes his head, before disappearing into the car.

Your mother pulls you back-drenched and shaking and crying-into the safety of the house, and he drives out of sight.

Your fingers find your phone in your pocket somehow, and you manage to unlock it, squinting against the bright screen, your hands shaking so badly that you’re not even sure you can type, let alone find your contacts.

You’re soaked through, even hiding under the minimal cover of the embankment, and you’re shivering so hard your teeth feel like they’re going to chatter right out of your head.

You curse yourself for not checking the weather before your little spontaneous run.

The rain dripping from overhead makes your phone screen slick, and you swear in frustration as after several fruitless attempts to type, it slips from your fingers, sinking into the mud at your feet.

“Fuck!” You scream back at the whipping wind, and pouring rain, and bright flashes of lightning and terrifying thunder.

Your fingers curl into fists at your side, and you can’t hold back the sob that wrenches free from your throat.

No one knew where you went after you left Hyunjin’s. You hadn’t even bothered to answer his text.

You were alone, and you’d just have to wait out the storm.

You shove yourself as far back against the embankment as you can, huddled into the fetal position, and screw your eyes shut, trying to think of something, anything, other than the sounds of the storm swirling around you, the feel of your heart pounding wildly within the walls of your chest.

“Breathe.” You tell yourself, but your voice wobbles, and your words tremble, and you’re crying again.

Crying, crying, crying.

‘Why are you crying?’ He asks with such cold haughtiness that you stop for a moment and stare at him, mouth agape.

‘Why am I crying?’ You repeat back in disbelief, and you force some of the wobble from your voice as you straighten, glaring him down. ‘Why the fuck would I not be crying? I love you!’

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and the water dripping from the dark strands of his hair trace their way across his high cheekbones, the expensive, crisp lines of his suit.

‘It never would have worked anyway.’ He stares at you, sharp, angry, and it’s a far cry from the soft, affectionate man you thought you knew. He takes a menacing step toward you, and you take one back. “Alphas don’t belong with other alphas, (Y/N). You fucking know that. Regardless of whatever shit your radical equality college courses are brainwashing you into thinking.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s holding up a hand, silencing you as easily as if he’d just slapped you.

Lightning crackles over head, illuminating the hard expression on his face, the hurt on your own.

‘My parents have found me a suitable match-an accomplished omega from a good family. I’m sorry, (Y/N).’ He’s not. You know he’s not.

So you stand in the rain, and you watch him get into his fancy car and drive away, leaving you behind.

You’re not sure how long you’re crouched there, hidden in on yourself beneath the fake safety the embankment at your back affords, but it feels like years have passed when you feel someone shake you, and your name sounds from far away, like someone is calling out from underwater.

“(Y/N)!”

You force yourself to open your eyes, and the face swimming before you slowly comes into view.

The downturned lips, the worried expression in the dark, serious eyes, the panicked, furrowed posture of the brow.

Chan shakes you again, not as violently this time, and his mouth forms words, but it takes a moment for your brain to catch up and decipher them.

“-going to get you warm. Can you walk?”

Every inch of your body feels like it’s been soaked in cold, wet concrete-your limbs numb, your lips trembling-and so you shake your head tiredly, slowly.

Everything feels too heavy.

Chan glances over at someone, and it’s then that you notice he’s not alone, Minho and Changbin crouched at either shoulder, their expressions of open worry mirroring his own.

“What were you fucking thinking?” Changbin leans around Chan to frantically rub at your upper arms, trying to spark some warmth back in your skin as you continue to shiver, wet clothing weighing down your useless limbs.

You want to shrug, want to tease and tell him ‘oh, you know, just thought I’d go running in a rain storm and catch hypothermia and maybe die, and oh! I saw Jeongin today. Probably ruined that relationship indefinitely.’ but instead, you can barely shake your head in response, lips moving weakly, but no sound coming out.

Fuck, you’re cold.

“We need to go.” Minho tells Chan and Changbin seriously, and they nod in response, Chan carefully pulling you out from under the embankment and settling you into his arms, Changbin throwing his jacket over you as he stands, tucking it around your violently shaking body.

Minho keeps pace beside Chan as he carries you through the forest, and he reaches out to brush a hand down your cheek, his skin pleasantly warm, so much so that you whine and seek after it even when he pulls back with a tight smile.

“Blue’s not your color, sweetheart. We need to take care of that.”

You snuggle into the warmth of Chan’s chest, like a moth chasing a flame, and you note offhandedly, fuzzily from somewhere far away, that the rain has stopped, dripping slowly and rhythmically from the trees overhead.

Changbin jogs ahead, and you realize, at the sound of an engine turning over, that they’ve brought Chan’s car.

Your mind immediately goes to the delicious thought of the heater, your skin prickling painfully at the idea.

Everything is slowly coming back to life.

You’re no longer numb, but maybe you’d prefer that, because now, now everything just fucking hurts.

Minho and Chan sandwich you between their warmth in the backseat, and Changbin drives like his ass is on fire straight back to the alpha dorms.

You don’t even protest when they carry you up the stairs and into your apartment, Changbin rustling through your closet to find any and all blankets you own, piling them on top of your still shaking body, one after the other.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He mutters, crouching down in front of you where you lay on the couch, teeth still chattering loudly. He tugs a blanket up and tucks it beneath your chin, concern etched across his face. “You’re still fucking freezing.”

“It’s probably the shock.” Chan replies worriedly, pacing behind Changbin, his lower lip pulled between his teeth.

If you weren’t currently unsure of whether or not you could speak, you would have congratulated him on his astute, and very scientific, correct conclusion.

Minho stares at you, hands on his hips, and then he whips into action.

“Go turn on the shower. Make it as hot as you think she can stand.” He motions to Chan, and the other alpha disappears down the hallway without another word. “Changbin.” He glances at the alpha crouched beside you, feeling your forehead with his large, warm palm. “Help me get her undressed.”

In any other situation, Changbin probably would have made a suggestive joke about Minho’s choice of words, but now, he just silently helps you sit up, propped up against his chest, as Minho removes all the blankets and begins taking off your clothes slowly, starting with your muddy, wet sneakers.

By the time he’s laid you bare, there is a drenched, heavy pile of dark clothing sitting on the living room floor, and your shuddering has resumed violently, goosebumps pricking over every inch of your exposed skin.

Changbin rubs his warm palms up and down the skin of your arms as your teeth chatter, and Minho grunts, standing up and motioning with his head to Chan, who’s reappeared in the mouth of the hallway.

“Let’s go.”

Changbin picks you up easily without another word from Minho, and even in your partially out of it state, you pick up on the way their scents sour with worry, sharp and acrid on every inhale.

You don’t like it, and you try to say as much, but only a whimper comes out, and Changbin ups his pace to the bathroom.

The air inside the little room is pleasantly humid and warm thanks to the already running shower, and you start to feel your muscles prickle to life painfully once more as the blood starts to return to them in response to the change in temperature.

It’s still not enough though, and your jaw is starting to ache from all the shivering.

Changbin carefully deposits you in the shower, and you hold onto the wall desperately as the support of his arms leaves, willing your legs to keep you standing, your entire body still quivering, even under the unending stream of the hot water from overhead.

Changbin leans inside the shower once more, Chan and Minho watching you warily from over his shoulder, and places his palm on your bare skin.

His hand is warm, and you desperately seek after the contact as he pulls back and swears under his breath.

“Fuck.” He glances at the other two alphas, and the bitter scent of smoke burns your lungs, making your throat even drier than before. “It’s not enough. She’s still chilled.”

Without a word, Chan shucks off his sweatshirt and drops it to the bathroom floor, pushing past Changbin to step into the shower, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest, the water instantly drenching the sweatpants he still wears without a thought.

You want to tease him, tell him you’d never thought of showering with your clothes on before, but the warm, persistent heat of his body against your own, slowly thawing your bones, is enough to keep you silent, snuggling in more against him instead.

You glance up at him, the water dripping from his curls and down his nose, as he motions to the other two alphas with a jerk of his chin.

“Get in. C’mon. The more body heat, the better.”

Changbin and Minho take off their own sweaters, leaving them bare chested, and squeeze into the shower beside the two of you.

It’s a tiny shower, and it’s not made for four bodies, but they make it work, squishing you between them, their arms linked in a close circle around you, and slowly but surely, the combination of all of their alpha body heat-higher temperature than betas or omegas-starts to warm you from the inside out.

Changbin smooths a hand over your wet hair, and his face grows slightly less pinched as he nods over your head to Minho and Chan.

“She’s getting warmer.”

Your brain is mush, warmed between your three alpha mates, and the smell of their combined scents-slowly returning to normal now that they know you’re not dying-is like a balm, washing over you and making your eyes instantly heavy.

You sigh and let yourself sag in Chan’s hold, content they’ll hold you up.

“I didn’t do it on purpose y’know.” You finally say, words slurred and heavy with exhaustion, and you feel them all heave a collective sigh of relief at your first coherent words since they found you.

“What, trying to get yourself killed and fuck us over with worry?” Minho chuckles with no humor and his words are sharp and dry, but his tender, affectionate fingers on your hip soften the searing tone to his response.

You nod against Chan’s chest, and his arms tighten around you in response.

“Yeah, I-” You swallow, desperately needing a drink now that your body is going back to normal, and avoid their gazes, glancing down to study the way Changbin’s rough knuckles look covering Chan’s hand splayed protectively across your bare stomach.

Honesty is the best policy right?

“-didn’t know it was supposed to storm.” You finish lamely, because fuck honesty right now, you don’t think you can handle thinking about the betrayal on Jeongin’s face, the disappointment on Hyunjin’s.

“I’m sorry.” Chan murmurs beneath his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your upturned forehead.

You glance at him in surprise, slowly regaining cognitive abilities.

“Why are you sorry?”

“We should have looked for you sooner.” He replies tightly, eye’s dark and lips pinched. He shakes his head slightly. “Hyunjin said he was worried about you when you left his place, but we just thought you’d gone for a run, needed some time, and then it started to rain-”

You shrug, and try to make your tone light. “It’s not your fault I’m terrified of thunderstorms.”

“Yeah, but it is our job to look out for you.” Changbin says resolutely, placing a finger beneath your chin and making you look up at him.

His expression softens slightly as he stares down at you, and suddenly, you feel a lot more warm than before.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper out, because suddenly, you don’t know what else to say.

Minho shifts behind you, leaning his cheek onto your drenched hair, and you feel his sigh against your back, his breath brushing across your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?”

You glance down at your hands covering theirs, resting around your waist, and you experimentally flex your fingers, the blood flow restored.

Physically, you feel loads better already, emotionally, not so much.

You bite your bottom lip and focus on the way the water swirls around your feet.

“Because I make it really hard to look out for me sometimes.”

Their responding silence speaks eons more than their words ever could.

Outside, the rain continues to pound against the window panes, and the crack of thunder can be heard even over the sound of the running shower.

'It never would have worked anyway. Alphas don't belong with other alphas, (Y/N).'

********************************************************************************

To Be Continued

********************************************************************************

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spicycinnabun · 10 months ago

Text

Yes, Chef

WC: 696 🥟 Rated: G 🥟 Read on Ao3!

“Table four said their chicken Kyiv isn’t saucy enough,” Ian said, sliding the plate across the heated pass. He braced himself for a blowup as he added, “They want another one.”

“A chicken Kyiv don’t have sauce, first of all,” Chef Milkovich’s grumpy voice answered him. “It’s filled with garlic butter. I can’t pump ‘em with any more, or they’ll burst. They already have enough to clog a fuckin’ artery.”

“I know, Mick—Chef,” Ian corrected himself. He ran a hand through his hair, tired from pasting on his customer service smile all night. “That’s just what she said.”

Mickey slammed his spatula down. He grabbed the plate, staring down at it. All that was left on it was the picked-over salad. The feta and tomatoes were missing; it was just a sad pile of arugula. “So, did the chicken disappear into thin fuckin’ air? Must have been plenty saucy enough for her to eat the whole fuckin’ thing. I ain’t re-firing this unless they’re payin’ for a double.”

“Yes, Chef. I’ll pass along the message.” Ian’s lips twitched into a genuine smile. Why was Milkovich kinda cute when he got all worked up? (He was worked up ninety-nine percent of the time.)

“Just call me Mickey,” Mickey said distractedly, turning his back on Ian, already busy firing another order from his queue of tickets. “Hate that ‘Chef’ shit.”

“Okay, Mickey.” Ian saw Mickey’s shoulders relax a little as he dropped a basket of perogies into the deep fryer.

Ian straightened one of Mickey’s tickets after noticing it barely hanging onto its clip, and then he returned to the front of the house to break the news to his oh-so-lovely patron.

After dinner service, he caught Mickey outside, tattooed and burn-scarred fingers loosely holding a cigarette, chef whites now stained colorfully from a busy night. Ian didn’t bother saying anything—he could see the exhaustion on Mickey’s face, in the crinkles of his downturned eyes, and Ian, himself, had been talking almost nonstop since four PM.

They shared a moment of peace, leaning against the brick wall of the alley behind the restaurant and decompressing. Ian loosened his tie and watched Mickey’s full lips purse and pinch. Watched him exhale smoke as powerfully as the oven when someone left a tray of pyrizhky in for too long.

Finally, Mickey rubbed his nose and glanced at Ian almost self-consciously. “Fuck you lookin’ at?”

You. “Nothing, sorry,” Ian responded, looking down the alleyway instead.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” Mickey wiped at his cheeks, then his forehead, frowning.

Ian chuckled. “No.”

Mickey let out an irritable huff. “Fuckin’ what, then?”

“Can I bum one?” Ian asked, even though that wasn’t what he wanted. He’d stopped smoking a few years ago.

“Fine, but bring your own next time, freckles.” Instead of giving Ian a new cigarette, Mickey held out his own.

Ian accepted it and took a drag. This time, he was the one being watched. Mickey’s eyes were piercing, and he was about as subtle as a brick. Ian enjoyed that about him. “Fuck you lookin’ at?” he teased.

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, but Ian noticed a rosiness growing along his ears. He pushed off the wall. “See ya tomorrow, Gallagher.”

“Call me Ian.” Or any of the other nicknames Mickey liked to use. “Hate that ‘Gallagher’ shit.”

He really did. It was a tag he used to be proud to wear, or at least faithful towards, in the same way a golden retriever was loyal to their owner even if said owner was horrible to them, but he didn’t like Mickey using it.

“Gonna call you Polly if you keep mimickin’ me,” Mickey griped. Ian laughed, and Mickey turned back to face him. “Alright. Ian. Happy?”

“That was difficult for you, huh.” Ian smiled at him, though. Slowly. He liked how his name sounded coming from the big boss. “Thanks.”

Mickey looked suddenly flustered, shifting his weight, hands twitching by his sides like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. “Yeah. You’re welcome. Whatever.”

Had Ian made him nervous?

Mickey went back inside the restaurant at record speed, the door slamming behind him. Ian grinned.

#fic #gallavich fic #gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich au #ukrainian restaurant au #shameless #yes chef #👨‍🍳

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crystalgastles · 2 months ago

Text

After the flesh

so, this is the revised first chapter and the second chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction, I'm trying to get it posted on ao3 but i have yet to receive an invite email to create an account. read my jeff information post before this to get a feel for his personality. love, Alex

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold gray of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore.

The remnants of last night's events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse.

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another sip from the bottle, and a shit attempt at washing off my clothes in the river behind the house of a well off family. Father was a Lawyer I think mother was an accountant or receptionist or insurance broker?

I never know anymore. Lines blur, the faces are warped, people look like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man.

Thunder rumbles in the distance as lightning crashes a little too close to my position than I’d like. I’ll just steal from the slaughterhouse I’ve created behind me, all that’s not covered in blood.

I rummage through the teenage boys things, never bothered to learn his name even though he was the one to wake up, he doomed the entire family. The soft white of the fabric made me wince. The clean white of the oversized material falling over my frame with ease.

The diners' bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups. I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them?

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure of it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a schoolgirl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room.

Someone else could clean it.

My entire front was covered in water, the tips of my hair soaked and freezing, I couldn’t help but let out hard and choked sobs, my body shaking with each breath while I stood in the freezer in the kitchen trying to compose myself.

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone.

Mascara ran down my cheeks,my nose and cheeks flushed while I clung to my winter coat, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough for it to snow, the puddles from the earlier rain squelched as I worked on my walk to my car from the parking lot. 98 days since I had been kicked out from my family home, 26 days I had been couch surfing and 72 had been living in my friends apartment, barley being able to split rent. It was almost December. I missed my mom.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I liked to watch the news, between the mundane and the weather the bright face of the news anchor would fall, sharing the details of the family I had ever so kindly turned into my art project. Three people, five people, an extended family of eight on vacation, only the dog was left. All me across different states, yet I wasn’t suspected for any except my own family’s. Dogs, animals can’t tell the police what you’ve done and sometimes they don’t care. I don’t leave witnesses that can speak.

The diner was mostly quiet, bright droning lights almost drowned out the sound of the box television hanging over the booth in front of me that displayed the news. The chief of police was speaking at a press conference, the bright white hoodie suddenly making me feel too visible for my comfort.

Politician. I killed a local politician's entire family.

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

My attention was drawn from the problem I was facing on the screen in front of me as I watched the guy in the booth across from my table in a group of suited fraternity brothers who barely graduated college stick his foot out and trip the server that was waiting on him. Making them drop the tray of half full ice water they were carrying.

The crash of glass and silverware clattered to the floor as the seven giggled, mockingly saying sorry and throwing their half crumpled napkins at her in feigned support of helping them clean up. Tears welled in their eyes as they stood up straight and ran to the back.

It’s easy to pick targets. Some people might as well paint giant red circles on their foreheads. I don’t usually pick people for their behavior on a whim, but I missed my portion of the news because of the accident they caused. Not the server.

I don’t discriminate when it comes to what I do. I watch people, I study them, some more than others. Sometimes I don’t, admittedly I should be more careful but when you need a place to stay for the night you can’t be picky especially if they have a McMansion on the side of town people don’t expect murder in and you really need a shower.

I watched the seven, not pay walk out and to their respective gaudy cars, lifted trucks and one lime green hummer, but two, the one who tripped the server and the one who laughed the loudest, made the detrimental mistake of walking home

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

My keys clinked on the glass of the entryway table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

They were a night shift worker at a gas station who had a dream of being a tattoo artist, something I also wanted to do but apprenticeships were not in the cards for me, I needed to eat and a place to shield me from the rain. The clock I could barely see from the kitchen, a glowing green blob that I could barely make out read 9:15.

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not waking up, going to work, smoking a cigarette, shower, watching tv, checking the landline for messages that my mother still sent me, begging me to come home. I can’t.

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t-shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in.

Tap tap tap

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door. I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for at that moment.

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open.

She forgot to lock the door.

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what I could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine there next.

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter.

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

The wind was knocked out of me when the cold kitchen floor hit my back, the blood from his arm now dripping onto my face while he had me pinned to the floor, grabbing my wrist and wrestling my one and only weapon out of my hands.

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood, my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so I could have some semblance of safety.

A deep gravelly voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.”

What the fuck.

I tried to think of something, anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs are still trying to catch up with me.

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach”

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life”

The crunching of the door reminded me of what was between me and this man, who was determined on staying in my home for the night, the sirens passing by my house one after the other, catching my attention. I made the connection that, that’s what he was hiding from pretty quickly.

--------------------------------------------------

I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand.

I overheard on their walk home about a new strain they had gotten from a dealer in the city, something about how it was supposed to be smoother than a generic? I couldn’t give a shit I hope it was laced.

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

The water sloshed inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server, stood dumbly off to the side.

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.”

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

“What was your friend's name?”

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart”

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back made me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him.

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle”

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

“I’ll see you where we both belong”

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when I could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees.

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running

I made my way to an apartment building, scanning the downstairs units until I found one tucked away at the end of the tree line, with a sliding glass door leading to the outside of the back yard that was connected to the other tenants.

I saw the tv on the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home.

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound, surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

I reached up, grabbing this person's wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that I could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries. Can't go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states.

I managed to grab their shoulders flipping them so they were facing me , then pushed and fell with them to the ground, using the time they couldn’t breathe to pin their wrists to the linoleum, clamping down so hard they had to open their palm so that the box cutter would fall out of that iron grip. I stopped for a moment, recognizing their face and hair. It was the server. The server that was tripped, the server I saw run away from broken water glasses and the men I turned into New York strip steaks was now tussling with me.

I let go, but not before I kicked the makeshift weapon where they couldn’t reach and cradled my now bleeding hand and arm while they skittered to the living room, and to a room down the hall. Probably to call the police. I ran, my longer legs carrying me to the room right before they could close the door, and stuck my foot in between the frame and the wooden board.

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep”

----------------------------------------------------------------

I crawled away into the corner of my room, hands and knees bruised from fighting. I grabbed my lighter off the windowsill. I flicked it, the flame sputtering for a moment and then burning out as I held it out towards him in a feigned attempt to scare him away with the threat of burning him. He slowly removed his hood, long black ,wet hair fell over his shoulders, one of his eyebrows seemed to be burned off halfway with a Glasgow smile scar that looked to still be healing , taken over by burns running up to where the tail of his eyebrow should be. Burn scars covered half his neck up to his jaw. I recognized his hands, his hair and sharp features. I served him coffee earlier today at work, nothing else. He tipped me with a 20 dollar bill before he stormed out of the restaurant. He was going to kill me, he followed me home from work and waited until my roommate wasn’t home to do god knows what to me and then leave my body in a dumpster, torn apart. Or cut me up into little pieces and serve me on a silver platter, and keep my head in the freezer or bleach my bones and wear them as a necklace or turn my hair into a wig and dance around pretending to be me or- My mind kept running in circles of every horror movie trope I had ever come across and just stood and watched as he looked at me as if waiting for me to say something. I dug the hand that wasn’t clutching my lighter into the shag of my carpet. Feeling the soft fibers while I tried to think of a way out. I screamed as he slowly moved towards me as if I were a stray feral cat he was trying to crate and he didn’t want me to run away, I threw the lighter at him, smacking him square in the forehead with it before it fell at his feet, and crunched under the weight of his boot before he slowly pulled a large knife out of the hoodie pocket, sharp and glistening from the streetlight outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes, preparing for the sharp burning pain of being stabbed in the stomach or shoulder but nothing

came. I slowly opened one eye and saw he put it on the windowsill, crouching down to meet my sitting position on the floor to look me in the eye.

“You should really start locking that patio door”

--------------------------------------------------------

I crouched in front of them, my eyes locking with theirs, the rain dripping from my hair making a slow patter on the fabric of her sweatpants. While I tried to analyze their features, their eyes looked like saucers, their bottom lip quivered. Soft features looked at me with so much fear it made me start to question why I was even terrorizing her. They were staring at me, at my face, seeming to analyze me as well, specifically staring at my mouth. My scar, something from my teenage years that never seems to fully heal. I open it back up on hard nights when lights are too bright and memories flood my mind. “Fucked up right” I tried to talk, attempting to make the thick atmosphere of the room lift by pointing out what they were staring at. Picking their hand up gently and placing his fingers on the edges of the deep scar to try and show her I wasn’t going to do anything. I really needed food and a shower. Maybe a cigarette. “I did this repeatedly as a kid, you’re stupid when you’re 17.” They stared wide mouthed at me and were silent. Cracked sounds escaping their lips as if they were trying to speak but the words got stuck in their teeth. Slow uhs and ums, making me almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The blood, my blood on their face reminded me of the gash in my arm and hand. I needed to stitch that up, or bandage it as best I could. A small voice broke the silence of my thoughts, their hand was on my face even though I had moved my own. “Have you been stalking me” I couldn’t help but laugh, it could be seen like that. They

saw me at the diner earlier and then later the same day I’m breaking and entering into their apartment. I hadn’t been.

“No, actually. I didn’t even know this was your apartment.”

“Why are you here? Are you gonna murder me?

""No. No no I’m not. I was hoping no one was here

""Well…um can you go?”

“I need a shower, food, a different hoodie maybe. Do you smoke?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was hoping you had a cigarette”

“I do. I don’t have a lighter anymore though.”

“Sorry about that”

“Yeah um”

The conversation was awkward. I backed away as they slowly unraveled from their ball on the floor while I sat on the bed, cradling my hand so the blood wouldn’t stain their bedding. They stood, keeping their eyes on me while backing towards my knife on the windowsill slowly. Not grabbing it, only standing in front of it. “Thanks for the 20 today. I uh. Appreciate it, you can shower if you need to. If you have a lighter I have reds in the kitchen.” I remembered the diner, the men. The crunch of bone and I winced. Do I tell them I killed two of the guys who tripped them? Or do I just accept their thanks and move on. Let them find out on their own. “You’re welcome.”

The sting of the steady flow of steam and water piercing the gash on my arm made me hiss while the brown of old blood fell down my shoulders and into the drain while I dug the dirt off of my scalp.

My hair has grown, it was barely past my shoulders when I first left home and now it reached my mid back. I tried to cut it but I never could do it properly. Only she could. All I had left of her was the silver crucifix I wore. Even now in the shower. I don’t want to risk losing it.

Towel around my hips, I looked under the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit, my good arm feeling around the wood for anything to patch myself up. I grabbed the kit. Biting the inside of my cheek, I poured rubbing alcohol on my wounds , digging my fingers into my palm as it stung like hellfire.

The kind of pain I knew too well , I wrapped the gauze on my arm and hand before taping it so it’d be secure enough for me to bend and move my arm. Getting dressed in the old bleach stained black hoodie they gave me I turned the gold door knob that was starting to turn silver from ware and stood face to face with them.

“I put your other hoodie in my washing machine. I’m not sure how well those stains are gonna come out though.”

I couldn’t understand why they were being nice to me. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of just pure indifference to the situation, or loneliness, something I could also relate to, in some sick twisted sense.

I didn't say anything, just pushed past them with a nod. Examining the shelves of books, glass figurines and cds on the shelves of a bookcase, skeleton stuffed animals on the couch along with a ‘worlds best grandma’ pillow and so many blankets with different animals printed on the plush

fabric thrown onto a side chair. One with the face of a raccoon plastered on it, another with three wolves and a moon in the back and a few others I couldn't quite make out.

“You have a lot of things”

“Oh. yeah I guess”

“Who is the world's best grandma”

“Oh um, it's an Inside joke”

“I have a lighter in my pocket, if you want to smoke”

“Sure”

I liked them. I liked the shortness they expressed with me, I wanted to dig, find that personality I saw in the shelves of their bookcase. Dissect every Part of their brain, study it and look it over again.

The flick of the lighter, the inhale of smoke and a sweet flow of nicotine grazed my lungs. I reached out tilting my head as if to tell them to come closer so I could light theirs. They stood four feet away from me but came closer when I held out the flame “come on I’m not gonna bite”

As they blew the smoke into the darkness of the night air I saw his shoulders relax the orange of the burning paper illuminating her fingers as they took another drag.

“I killed the guy who tripped you”

“What?’

“I killed him and the guy who sat beside him”

“I, um”

“Not for you. But I thought you’d want to know”

“How’d you do it?”

I raised an eyebrow at the question. She was so nonchalant in the delivery it almost made me question if they believed me at all as they inhaled more of the smoke, I did the same.

“Curb Stomped the guy who laughed the hardest, turned the other one into minced meat”

“Do you think they deserved it?”

“I guess, do you think they did?”

“Yeah. But I also think you should be in prison”

“I have been, when I was 17, shoplifting and property damage.”

“Huh”

“They made me do drag, was the only one in there with long hair”

“I guess you don’t want to go back then”

“I wouldn't enjoy it , no”

I didn't enjoy talking about my youth. I wanted to make them more comfortable with me being there rather than keeping a distance, having a place to stay where I felt welcomed would be refreshing. The burning tobacco finally reached the filter and I put out the rest of the paper on the glass ashtray resting against a glass table and turned to them as they took a final long drag and did the same. Their arm reached over me, and grazed

my hair when they put out their cigarette and I felt as if I were making progress in cracking that shell.

“I don't know how i feel about you being here but, it's better than what i usually do and I don't think you will leave ,even if I ask again”

“You’d be right”

“Can you not find anyone else”

“I don't want to.”

“Genuinely why, what is so intriguing about my house”

“You’re letting me stay, you did my laundry, let me shower and gave me a cigarette, do you rescue stray cats a lot?”

“No.”

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x oc #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #ticci toby #creepypasta art #my wriitng #my ocs #horror art #horror fiction #slenderman #jeff the killer creepypasta #Spotify

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hyper-fixates · 2 years ago

Text

Nightcrawler

Bruce Wayne/Batman x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: descriptions of blood/injury, angst, allusions to sex, groping/touching, descriptions of medical treatment (suturing), fingering/pussy play, explicit language, unrequited feelings (let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: Bruce confronts his feelings after you put him back together. Again.

Notes: wrote this all the way back in 2020 right after the first trailer came out…found it sitting in my computer files and figured i shouldn’t let it go to waste! since it was written before the movie came out, please excuse/forgive any inaccuracies regarding the batsuit, terminology, setting, and characterization (and the painfully amateur writing) 😣

The cave is always a little too frigid for your liking.

Especially when it’s already well into the late hours of the night—a time you definitely shouldn’t be awake. The long fluorescents buzz and highlight the metallic sheen of everything, while still piercing through any inch of unguarded darkness in the gloomy room.

A light breeze swirls around your huddled figure every so often, and the rhythmic sound of water continuously dripping onto floor somewhere echoes throughout the quiet, isolated space. There’s still some changes and additions that need to be made to the current set-up he has, but it does the job for now. You don’t bother taking note of what needs to get done—you’ll probably forget it all an hour from now anyway.

You let your head roll back onto the chairs headrest, and your eyes skim over the time at the bottom of one of the monitors screens.

3:43am. It’s been almost four hours—you always wait.

You wait even though he tells you not to, and even though you know you maybe shouldn’t sometimes. But you can’t help it. It’s habit at this point. You’re down here at 10pm on the dot. Daily.

You don’t need to be, but you are; it’s tradition for you to be part of his prep and routine before the nightly endeavour out into Gotham, even if you just sit and watch as he slowly works his way into the suit piece-by-piece, fiddling with various tech accessories that you don’t even know the names of yet.

You try to pass the time by organizing and sorting his skewed files, papers, and small pieces of armour that have been damaged beyond repair—meticulously placing them in their rightful spots on the seemingly never-ending line of desktops, shelves, and hidden drawers.

But mindlessly arranging anything and everything only lasts for so long before there’s nothing left to do but sit. And think. And then sit some more.

Not knowing how long you’ll be rolling around in one of the padded office chairs for is one of the prices you have to pay for caring too much, and he reprimands you for it, even as you furiously dump an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol onto his body, and he never shows that it affects him in the least.

He’s stubborn. He’s stupid.

Your eyes wander along the blank stone walls as you slouch further into the chair, stopping when you see the time again: 3:47am.

You let out a heavy breath through your nose as you repeatedly click the tip of a pen in and out. You push yourself around in slow circles with the toe of your foot, letting the spinning room distract you for just a few moments just to pass another minute at least.

This isn’t necessarily part of your job. He knows that, and you definitely know that. A lot of things have changed with your workplace duties, clearly, as you notice some earlier pieces of his armour piled in one corner of the room.

Unsurprisingly, things have…happened here and there. It’s becoming a more common occurrence, but it feels circumstantial and…convenient. Maybe it’s all meant to happen at this point. You think about it often enough—too often. Enough to make things awkward for yourself sometimes.

Another anxious glance at the leering clock: 3:51am. “This is fucking ridiculous,” you reason with yourself, getting up from the chair and tossing the pen on the desk.

You resort to pacing around the grand floor space, now closely watching the entrance and exit as you circle by. All you can do is wait—

And just as you turn your back to the computer displays and monitors, the clocks turn to 3:59am.

You cut back sharply to begin another circle, and there he is. Four hours later. Alive.

The broad shadow makes your heart stop for a split second, but the only physical reaction you have is your knees locking, keeping you in place and giving you no choice but to stare at the familiar, broad outline of him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Bruce.” It slips out, a little rushed and aggressive, but you mean it. He knows you well enough to not take any literal offence from it.

Your harsh acknowledgement prompts him to walk in further.

“Yeah, you said that last time,” he points out casually, sauntering into the blinding lights with calm steps, coming around to the front of the desks.

You observe his gait with a hard stare—you take notice of how he hesitantly bends and twists at the hip when he leans back to rest against the edge of the metal desk, rolling his head back until his neck pops with a relieved grunt.

He’s already got the cowl, cape, and gloves off, so whatever the problem is, it must be worse than what he’s playing off, as usual.

And then you see the issue. “Do you need help with that?” You point at his stomach and drop back into the chair, deflating with concern.

Your alert eyes study the suit, looking at the damage.

“With what?” he counters, seeming unaware—avoiding; yet his dark eyes confidently meet yours as he rests back on his hands, trying to find some comfort and seem unbothered by whatever desperately needs your attention underneath the sturdy armour.

A very thin layer of blood has seeped through a small displacement in the suits plating, soaking into the tri-weave fibers that cover the titanium. You roll your eyes and scoot back to a shelf where a med-kit sits, one that you put together specifically for nights like these, which is every night.

Positioning yourself back in front of him, the chair brings you to the perfect height to get a good look at the impairment. You can already tell it’s a knife wound just by the location. It’s at the perfect height. It cut perfectly in-between the overlapped layers of plating, perhaps the biggest flaw the suit has. You’re sure he’s aware of that now.

You inspect it briefly, tugging up on the bent piece slightly to see the amount of blood beneath. He takes a deep breath as the dense pressure is relieved from the tender area.

“Shit—” he breathes in relief. You’ve only heard that clipped tone slip out of his mouth on very few occasions, one of which was barely a week ago, yet you still tense at the vivid memory that you never really want to let go of.

He’s not one for reminiscing, but unfortunately, you are.

“It’ll only be a few stitches,” you say gently, letting the plate mold back into place softly. You tap the hard armour pointedly. “Take it off.”

You flick your eyes up to his—the black paint has smeared around just a bit more compared to when he smudged it on with no real technique earlier.

You’ll help him get it off later.

He brings a quick hand through his damp hair and starts unclipping the few clasps hidden on his shoulders and chest. One by one, the durable pieces are detached, and you carefully place them off to your right as he hands them over.

“Can you get the one in the back?” He motions over his shoulder. You nod and mumble a thoughtful ‘mhm’ as you both push yourself onto your feet again.

He turns his back to you, leaning forward on his palms and presenting the last clasp that sits in the middle of his spine. You know he can reach it, you’ve seen him do it before. You flick the clip, carefully pulling away the last plate. He physically relaxes his already tense muscles as soon as the extra weight is removed.

“I don’t know why you do this every night. It’s not worth it,” you confess while rummaging through the med-kit for a needle, surgical thread, topical antiseptic, a gauze pad, and a self-adherent bandage wrap to hopefully hold it all together.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as you carefully lay out the supplies next to him on the desk.

“I have to…” he whispers, trailing off, but you catch it, shaking your head as you thread and ready the needle with severe concentration.

“Turn around, please.” He shifts back to where he originally was without a word, leaning back against the cool steel with hesitation once again.

You grab the bottle of antiseptic and apply a generous amount onto the pad, delicately holding it as you take a seat in front of him once again.

“Are you sure you wanna stand for this?” you grimace. The hot sting of a sterile compress isn’t the most enjoyable sensation to experience, especially while bearing weight.

He looks down at you, looking rather uninvolved with the priority. Dazed and distracted; something that could be mistaken for the potential amount blood loss, but the gash isn’t big enough for that possibility.

This is something you’ve seen more often than you’d like to.

“Just get it done,” he starts, “You know I can handle it.” He dismisses the option, letting his head roll back with a deep inhale as he waits for you to start.

You say nothing in return. Carefully balancing the compress in one hand, your other cautiously pinches the soft, spandex material of his base-layer shirt. It fits comfortably, hugging tightly around the curvature and muscle of his body, improving his movement in the suit.

The shirt is slowly pulled away from his stomach. The thick blood sticks around the tear in the fabric, making it peel away instead. You drag it halfway over the rest of his lower abdomen, pulling and letting it bunch up tightly, staying isolated from the torn skin below.

You stare at the ugly cut for barely a second before you quickly dab the antiseptic around, patting it into the irritated, puffy flesh and watching it fizzle with each pull back.

Sometimes, you feel like he likes the pain. Like he purposefully seeks out the discomfort of an incapacitating injury in hopes of suppressing the turmoil of concern…worry…love…

It gives him something else to focus on instead of the sorrowful emotions that avoiding you doesn’t seem to fix. It’s only been making it worse, and things are beyond saving now.

Your free hand gently rests against the burning skin of his waist, and his head drops forward at the surprising contact.

“Calm down. It keeps me steady,” you chuckle, shaking your head lightly.

He hums thoughtlessly in response, unconvinced with your excuse, maybe.

There’s that sudden anxious tension in the room from nothing but a fleeting graze of fingertips. The uncertainty of who’s going to make the first move this time.

You do one more press and then pull the soaked pad away, examining your progress before discarding the bloody material.

“It might only be four sutures or so,” you determine while gently squeezing the inflamed edges closer together to try and gauge the amount of work needed.

He inhales sharply, tightly gripping the rim of the desktop. “Well, the faster you stitch it, the faster I’ll be able to—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” You cut him off with a harsh but accidental hard squeeze of the torn flesh, making his words die in his throat with a groan.

That wasn’t something you really needed to hear right now, let alone think about as if he wasn’t just bleeding out in front of you only minutes ago.

You know how that sentence ends; you’ve heard him say it more times than you’d like to admit, but you can’t let him have his way tonight.

You glare at each other for a moment. Your eyes hold a tired frustration behind them, but his hold a different kind…something that is able to get you to do whatever he says, something that makes you giddy with anticipation, and something that makes you feel just a little more alienated afterwards.

“You can’t lie to yourself anymore,” he says instead.

You laugh coldly. “Well, neither can you. I’ve stopped doing that a long time ago. You should try it sometime,” you counter, snatching the threaded needle with anger while maintaining your unimpressed gaze.

He sighs, messing with his drying hair again as you begin suturing quickly—not so you can get to what he was alluding to, but the opposite.

For once, you don’t want that, and you don’t want the burden of sadness that comes with it.

But it’s so…tempting.

He gave himself away. You haven’t. And of course he’s leaning against the very spot you were pinned down against a week ago, feeling the contrast to the emotions you’re feeling now: excitement, passion, comfort, love—

It puts you into a conscious daydream for a moment. But you’re awoken from it when you feel his body jolt suddenly. You see the needle poking into the tough muscle of his side instead of the spongey cut.

“Shit— sorry,” you mumble, shifting your focus back to the final suture and looping it through itself securely in a rush.

Seven stitches in total, you notice. You were close.

You grab the bandage wrap and press it firmly over the closed wound before snaking it around his back. You’re able to get two layers from it; the pressure should stop any possible bleeding, but he always manages to tear it open anyway. Sometimes you think he does it on purpose just so he has a good excuse to see you.

“Done,” you sigh, packing up the med-kit and rolling back to its shelf.

You stand from the chair and go to make your way to the exit without another word, not interested in any other interaction tonight. Well, that’s what you hope for, but you’ve learned that he will never let you go peacefully.

You go to pass by him mindlessly as he’s carefully pulling his shirt back down, but he manages to grab ahold of your sleeve quickly when he sees your destination. The effortless pull makes you skid to a stop, twisting back towards him with your inverted momentum, almost smashing your face in his chest, but you stop yourself with your forearm.

He holds onto you tightly, with a purpose, as you share a moment of mutual hurt and resentment. His dark eyes, the opaque paint making them look just as black in the hazy lighting, search your conflicted ones desperately.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” he asks quietly. There’s no demand behind it, seemingly afraid it’ll scare you away.

His face softens, perhaps relief from asking. He’s never had to before.

You furrow your brows together in shock, dumbfounded at his apparent stupidity in this continuous situation. You scoff lightly at his rather domestic request. “Why? So we can just dance around the truth like always?” Your voice never raises in volume, but your tone gets harsher as you continue.

“So I can hope that maybe you’ll come to your senses and fucking realize that I lo—”

The hand he had wrapped around your arm moves to the back of your neck before you can even say the word or finish your passionate rant. He promptly pulls you right to him, his deft lips quickly doing the much-needed apologizing in that moment.

It’s feverish and assertive, seeming out of place in the cloud of desolation and melancholia…yet you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

He knows you’ve needed this. Not the rushed, messy, convoluted kisses that come from your desperate fucking after a hard night or a close call, the ones that seem to happen almost by accident, by pure circumstance. There’s just always something missing…

Fervour. That’s what you feel now—that’s what you’ve wanted from him every single time he took control of you with ease for the night. You’re never able to make it back up to the manor either.

You shudder slightly when his hand moves to your jaw, gripping it firmly as he slides his mouth against yours consumingly, sucking your lips gently and teasing your tongue with his cautiously. You moan when he deepens the kiss further, letting his tongue fully overlap yours with a practiced versatility. It subdues you, inviting him to give and take as he pleases.

Several whimpers fall against his lips as you stretch onto your toes to meet his height as best as you can, trying to get more even though he’s already giving you plenty. It’s pensive. Each movement thought out and executed with a purpose, something that you can feel has a very clear destination in his mind.

You let him maintain authority, let him kiss you with a force that could bruise if he didn’t soothe the pressure with his soft tongue occasionally, dipping it back into your mouth quickly after. Your taste seems insatiable to his starved soul.

It all draws you in further, and your hands find themselves grasping at his shoulders instinctually when a forceful hand snakes through your hair to gain better control of you.

Your mouth feels a little numb and swollen from the welcome force, and he pulls away hesitantly when he feels your soft touch finally rest at his collar delicately. He barely lets more than an inch get between your lips, and you can feel the reluctancy in his movements as he pulls back.

You open your eyes slowly and see his sombre expression—more sombre than usual. The sorrow in his eyes and the agony on his brow is enough to force you to speak up first.

“I wish you told me months ago,” you whisper, lightly resting your forehead against his own as you wrap your arms around his neck, confident that he won’t pull away like he has before.

He looks longingly into your forgiving eyes, taking his hands and sliding them down to your hips in solace; an abrupt switch from from their dominant spot around your face. You understand the conflicts he has to live with. Most of them are caused by his vigilant habits in the night, yet you expected everything outside of that to still be easy for him.

Unfortunately, trauma picks and chooses its victims at random.

You find yourself looking for words. Maybe for the moment you realized he was different, when he changed.

“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you, Bruce.” You try to comfort him, provide some ease for his always anxious mind.

He squeezes your hip, silently reassuring you that it’ll be fine, that it won’t kill him.

“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you,” he retorts in an indignant tone, irritated with himself.

He regrets all of it. Most of all, he regrets making you feel unloved. The nights where he used you as a release, when he would act like nothing happened, when he would unconsciously ignore you, and when he ultimately closed himself off in the end.

“It wasn’t fair. It was…selfish,” he finishes forcefully, taking a quick breath to regain some composure.

“I just don’t want you to be part of that life,” he admits tentatively.

You can see he’s telling the truth. The way he doesn’t meet your gaze again. He does it to avoid the confrontation that comes with honesty.

You pause to take in his confession, closing your eyes for a moment with relief, but his tone is like a bullet to the heart. The dejected feeling of you possibly not wanting to be here with him in this moment.

“‘That life’?…You mean your life?” you reason, sounding surprised with his absurd claim.

You’d think that having done this religiously with him for a year would make him think otherwise, regardless of your acts together. You always showed up no matter the circumstances or emotions.

He pushes against your hips lightly, making some space between your bodies, and you shuffle back without hesitation. You let your arms fall away from his shoulders, and he does the same as you distance yourself.

“My life is your life,” he explains. “What happens to me affects you, why can’t you see that?” His face falls slightly. The realization of you not knowing you’re significant enough to be considered part of his life is…heartbreaking.

There’s so much you could say to that.

You let the silence linger briefly. “Maybe I’d be able to see that if you weren’t afraid to be in the same room as me,” you say, voice quiet as you test your reasoning.

You don’t want to start a fight. You just want to understand. You want to know why.

You notice how he hesitates when around you, and not in a flattering or complimentary way. It’s avoidant, scared, and even worried. Worry of confrontation.

He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around his stomach in comfort, carefully avoiding the fresh bandage.

“I…I’m not…scared. I’m—” Batman doesn’t get scared from feelings, but maybe Bruce Wayne does.

“You’re unsure,” you finish for him. His eyes meet yours with a sense of hope that you’re understanding.

“I just…don’t know how to go about…all of this,” he motions between you with a flick of his hand.

All of this…meaning—

“Love?” you try, making it more of a rhetorical question.

He presses his lips together in surprise before offering a firm nod. He doesn’t trust himself to say it. It’s hard to wrap your head around. It couldn’t just be that, it had to be something more problematic? Complicated?

But yet, it all makes sense because he’s him—he doesn’t necessarily do romance; there’s no time. You know that. You’ve seen how he is, nothing but a fleeting moment in the night to most, even to you.

It all clicks, and you rub your face in relief and exasperation. You can’t blame him for it all. You can for some, of course, but a relationship needs communication from both. It can’t be a one-person effort, but that’s what it ended up being.

He was just trying to protect you. That’s all someone can really ask for, but the execution wasn’t right. He abandoned you emotionally to protect you physically, and that’s not the right balance.

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth at the beginning? So I wouldn’t spend all this time thinking I was doing something wrong,” you pleaded, stepping closer to him again to pull an answer from his huddled form.

The closer you get, the higher you have to tilt your head to hold his gaze.

He looks right back, overwhelmed. “I didn’t know how to say it…I didn’t know if you felt that way. When I realized you did, I thought it was just…too late,” he admits, stuttering briefly at the end.

It was clearly hard for him, too. But was it not apparent that you were waiting? For him. For anything.

You look down, nodding your head in understanding. “I don’t think I could’ve made it any more obvious, but lust can be confused for love, so I understand.” You were serious, but some sarcasm slipped through at the end.

Lust is deadly; it will bait you, hook you, and then drag you under it’s pleasurable and irresistible cloud of euphoria, disguised as the domineering man in front of you.

“At least you know now,” he says, matching your tone.

He straightens his posture and locks his cold stare onto yours momentarily, searching for something he still can’t seem to find.

Giving up, he turns to collect each piece of armour you set aside, and he busy’s himself with meticulously putting it back in its rightful spot for tomorrow.

You watch him with surprise, but there’s no anger at his dismissal. You feel relieved. Relieved that you know. You don’t expect things to be normal right away, not with him.

You know he’ll come around, but you can’t help but ask a prying question just to entertain your already validated thoughts. And to keep him talking. There’s still so much you want to know.

“So…” you start lightly. “You said you weren’t sure if I was interested at the beginning,” you say carefully.

He stops moving the instant he hears the curiosity in your tone. He turns back to you slowly, an amused expression on his face. Shit—

You hesitate when you catch his look, but continue cooly. “So, if you didn’t know…then why did you keep, uh…” You lose your words, too afraid to be so blunt and direct about your past endeavours.

It seems taboo to discuss it while not in the moment itself. Sometimes you wonder if it’s just a dream. Too good to be true.

He raises his brows knowingly as you trail off, entertained with your hesitation and embarrassment.

“Why did you— why did we continue…”

“Fucking?” he finishes for you bluntly, a small smile playing on his lips, yet it’s devoid of genuine humour. It screams danger.

He chuckles when you nod your head wordlessly. “Like you said, lust is confusing. You can never seem to get enough, and I don’t think I wanted to.” He pulls the sleeves of his tight-fitting shirt over his forearms, watching you carefully as you consider his words.

His tone was suddenly light, confident. He could feel that you were walking the fine line of giving in or leaving without another word.

“I’m not trying to persuade you into doing anything, if that’s what you’re thinking about,” he clarifies softly when he sees your eyes dance across the floor rapidly.

You laugh lightly, glancing at him reluctantly. “I’m not, but you wouldn’t have to, anyway,”

That makes him narrow his gaze in question.

You raise a brow in response. “What?”

He glances over his shoulder at a monitor, very obviously reading the time: 4:29am.

And you realize exactly what he’s doing. Why would time matter unless you were to suddenly become busy. Tonight was on the shorter end of time spent putting him back together, and you never fall asleep quickly or peacefully anyway…that’s if you were to attempt it or even make it that far.

You watch him speculatively, still mindful that he’s injured, and probably very, very sleep deprived at this point, even though you can never say for sure.

He doesn’t sleep much. You seem to be his biggest distraction.

He twists a dry strand of hair between his fingers as it’s brushed back from his face, black eyes full of self-assurance as he turns to you for what will be the last time tonight.

“You think we can make it back to the manor?” His relaxed yet serious tone startles you, making you consider the options quickly.

Hard and cold floor, small and cold desktop, small rolling chair—none are ideal, but you’ve made all work before…when he didn’t offer another option, mind you. It was never momentous enough to have taken place outside of the cave. But the manor is…farther. There’s a buffer you don’t think will be beneficial.

Who fucking cares—

“Here seems to work just fine,” you quip nervously. You haven’t taken notice of how your legs have gotten…shaky.

There’s a burning heat between your thighs, an ache that blazes bright from anticipation and just him. Just knowing what’s to come. It feels like you’ve done everything imaginable at this point, but that doesn’t lessen your excitement.

He gives a small smirk that fades just as fast. “Figured you’d say that,” he finalizes.

Stepping back to you with graceful movements, you’re chest-to-chest again in an instant. He glides a delicate finger up your neck, hooking it under your chin and tilting your gaze to his intimidating one.

“Tell me what you want.”

You desperately want to say ‘anything’, but you know he won’t settle for that.

You get lost in your thoughts, thinking of the possibilities you can choose from, and he waits for your answer patiently.

“A week ago…when you came back with a torn rotator cuff in y-your shoulder—” you stumble through the sentence but never break from his studious eyes.

“You, uh, didn’t pay any mind to it even though you definitely should’ve, and you had me down against the desk,” your voice turns to a whisper as you recount the events—as vague as possible to save you the embarrassment of being too vulgar in, perhaps, an irreplaceable moment.

As soon as you finish, you swear you see a flame flicker in his eyes. The same one you feel grow stronger in your cunt at the same time. Your knees almost buckle from anticipation, and he can only make it worse from here.

“That’s…a good choice, even though it was kind of impersonal,” he ponders, clearly running through the events of that night.

He’s not wrong. He kept your chest pinned tightly to the surface of the frigid desk, taking you from behind. No hand-holding, no kissing, no eye-contact, no nothing.

You went on to figure that it was better—easier for him that way. You never seemed to mind anyway.

“That’s nothing I can’t fix,” he mutters, finishing the thought; already set on an alternative for both of you.

Your brows pinch together, curious of what he means exactly. But you don’t have much time to think about it.

His hands quickly curve around your jaw, keeping you still as he swiftly interlocks your deprived lips again. It’s zealous and luring, pulling you even further under the crashing wave of temptation and craving.

The soft joining of your mouths makes your stomach jump with exhilaration and eagerness, clawing your hands into his hair with a gasp of bliss as he grabs your waist just as hard in response. You let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling brave enough to gently bite at his bottom lip as his warm, encompassing hands slide under your shirt.

He barely lets you break for air, delving back into your mouth just as fast as he left it to reposition. The intensity of the heavenly moment builds its tempo, and you find yourself pushing against his chest. Not to pull away, but to try and push him towards the cold, awaiting desk behind his wide shoulders.

You manage to get a single word out in between the consuming and now sloppy kisses he offers. “Bruce—”

He hums contently as he swallows your thoughts, connecting your tingling lips forcibly. He’s too fixated on the passion. He wants it to last forever, but there are more demanding impulses that will be tended to first.

“Bruce,” you gasp when you break apart again reluctantly. He notices the calm assertion in your voice, and only slows the onslaught of kisses enough to reply.

“I know,” he soothes your neediness, now delicately pressing his greedy lips to yours repeatedly in understanding. The heartfelt action controlled by nothing but spirited lust.

His hands glide back up to your jaw, cradling your face in comfort as you twirl the long strands of hair at his neck between your fingers. Heavy breaths cloud your already tangled thoughts, leaving him to take the lead again.

He gives you one last intense taste of him, stroking his tongue teasingly over yours, firmly capturing your lips together in the process with a pleased moan. You’re almost chest-to-chest, a minute sliver of space keeping your bodies just distanced enough to not completely lose what little control both of you have left.

He’s taken note of how tight your thighs have been pressed together, and how your breaths are becoming shaky with each passing second he uses to dominate your mouth.

You’ve taken note of how his tactical pants, in fact, can’t hide his very prominent arousal for you, and how you can feel the warmth finally releasing from his exerted and thoroughly worked muscles. The heat seeps through his shirt and goes directly to your body, making you shudder when you feel the change in temperature.

You draw in a breath when he finally pulls away. His obsidian eyes wild with excitement and dominion. You’ve seen this look a lot, and you’re ready to hop on the desk without another word.

He floats his eyes down your body observationally, but you don’t notice. All of this is a lot slower than you’re used to. Well-paced. If it were any other night, you’d be on round two by now at least. You’d be whining with pleasure, shaking from release and overstimulation, dripping around his cock as he buries himself as deep as your cunt will allow, over and over until he simply feels better.

He was always generous with what he gave you.

You press a hand against his chest again, and he moves this time. Taking a long stride back, he tries to conceal an amused smile as you push him toward the desk. Your eyes light up when you see the knowing and teasing look on his face.

A quiet laugh rumbles against your hand. “This isn’t how it usually goes…” He smiles lightly.

You smile with him. “I never said it’s gonna stay this way,” you challenge, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

You never take charge. You never dominate. He’s more well-versed with it, and you won’t dare to try to match his competence.

The backs of his thighs bump the rounded edge of the desk, and your stomach jumps with elation when his index finger instantly hooks into the waistband of your pants, pulling you just a little closer.

But he leaves it there. He slides it side-to-side along the hem, gently caressing the sensitive skin of your lower stomach playfully. You look into his eyes as he casually continues the slow motions.

Your eyes flick down to his hand instinctually, out of pure reflex, and you watch his finger disappear further as he smoothly twists his wrist, palm resting against your lower stomach momentarily before his shoulder shifts too…angling his hand to travel down.

His fingers graze lower, creeping to a spot that so easily welcomes him.

One of your hands grabs onto his shoulder, simultaneously steadying yourself with a gasp as you bring your faces closer again. He gives a fleeting, comforting kiss, not leaving much behind.

His towering height makes it easier for his hand to reach its destination all too quickly. And when a careful and precise finger slips in-between your folds, your eyes close in anticipation and with the thought of relief.

Your minor reaction makes him smirk. Thankfully, for him, you don’t see it.

It’s sad just how wet you already are, but it spurs him on. He let’s his fingers explore, alternating between rubbing you and slipping a single digit inside, only doing so to gather your arousal to rub across your clit smoothly.

A quiet moan gets caught in your throat as he repeats that process a few times, building you up and teasing you onto the edge continuously.

“Mm— please, f-fuck—” you whimper, fisting the shirt in your grip on his shoulder.

You don’t need to finish that sentence for him to know exactly what you mean. He needs it, too. His tactical pants have become increasingly uncomfortable.

Your plea makes him apply more pressure to the slow strokes he gives your throbbing cunt. You all but drip onto the two fingers that glide over your aching clit and back to your slick entrance, occasionally giving you what you want.

He pulls them slowly in and out of you, making sure you feel them nice and deep before he drags them against something that makes you pant with desperation. Your eyes remain shut, brows pulled together tightly as you focus on the sensation of his intent touches, but he watches your face appreciatively, analyzing your pleasure with each movement he makes.

A particularly harder jolt of his fingers up into you makes you choke, caught between a gasp and a whiny moan. That makes his eyes drop to where his hand disappears.

He hums in satisfaction. “Is that the spot?” he questions with a mocking tone, knowing full well what the answer would be. “I think it is…”

You nod your head quickly, eyes reopening ever so slowly to meet his.

His eyes are full with devilish aspirations, and your knees almost give out when he roughly thrusts his fingers back in again for a final time. You let out a small cry of bliss and dissatisfaction when he slips them out of you, wiping them off on his pants carelessly.

You were decently wet before, and you are definitely abundantly wet now.

“I think you need to lie down.” He sounds concerned, but you know it’s just for show to make your heart pound harder.

He takes your hand from his shoulder, holding it securely as he shuffles your bodies around, putting you in his place and himself in yours. Now your thighs rest against the desk, and he crowds you against it.

“Lift your arms,” he says cooly, observing your dazed expression with care.

You raise them, and he pinches the hem of your shirt, delicately dragging it up your torso and over your head with caution. He tosses it on the chair off to the side.

Your eyes catch the mangled slash at the bottom of his shirt again, and you quickly reach for the thin material.

He doesn’t question your intentions, letting you maneuver the thin fabric over the bandage, his chest, and extend onto your toes to pull it over his shoulders. He peels it from his arms, and your hands can’t help but wander across the firm muscles that stretch around his entire body.

The power he holds within him—the Batman—is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen. It was terrifying. It was unbelievable, the things you’ve seen his body do. And he would continue to push his limits.

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #battinson x reader #battinson x you #batman x you #batman imagines #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagines #robert pattinson x reader #the batman (2022)#bruce wayne #the batman #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #battinson imagines #long post #long fic

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dokojuice · 2 years ago

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six photos

A/N: I am a big big big fan of the theory that all vinsmoke boys were born with the genetic potential to be what judge envisioned them to be, but it was only activated later on in their respective lives. before that, they were real brothers

It was no more than a few days after they had gotten Niji and Yonji back from Big Mom did the news of the emperor’s defeat in Wano arrive at Germa. Holding the newspaper gingerly, the princess reads about the battle in Onigashima, along with interesting new bounties for the entire Straw Hat crew. Feeling proud of her little brother and his latest 1billion berry bounty, Reiju wanders the halls of her castle in Germa.

Judge had heard of the news of Sanji’s feats after leaving them once more with Niji’s ‘gift’ of his raid suit, resulting in his pride being ever so wounded over the prospect of his “failure son” possibly being his greatest creation, gone out of his hands - which means his attitude is insufferable, like that of a toddler throwing a fit.

As soon as they had landed on Germa with Ceasar, Reiju was happy that the gas-man had provided enough distraction for her to sneak away to her corner of the kingdom.

“Reiju-sama! Would you like me to prepare a bath for you?” One of her handmaids asked her, opening the large set of doors to her bedroom.

“No, thank you.” She says curtly, walking inside and giving the handmaid enough of a hint to close the door behind her without another word.

Stalking towards her window, she gazes out into the far courtyard, where scorch marks and broken concrete litter the ground. No doubt from Ceasar and Judge’s fight, but God knows where they are now.

She catches a glimpse of a large book sitting on her vanity, next to the box of inflammatory masks. She smiles, recollecting the first night Sanji was back.

He had stayed next to her for hours, clearly uncomfortable but he didn’t feel safer anywhere else. Reiju took it as a compliment.

“Don’t worry. He doesn’t bother me much so I doubt he’ll come looking for you here.” Reiju tells Sanji, walking over with a box in her hands.

“Don’t bother. I don’t want any shitty bachelor gifts. Especially from the likes of you guys.” Sanji grunts, eyeing the box wearily.

“Wow, don’t you remember what I did for you? I was the closest thing you had to an ally, and technically, I still am.” Reiju retorts with a smile, putting the box down and opening it, lifting a large leather-covered book.

“After Father imprisoned you, they cleared out Mother’s room.” She starts, and Sanji’s eyes widen. Any mention of his mother made his heart sink in sadness. He hadn’t even built up the courage to visit her grave since returning to Germa.

“Eponi gave me this in secret. It could have gotten her killed but she said it was Mother’s most prized possession.”

Handing it over to Sanji, he opens the book and sees it’s a photo album. The first page sporting a photograph of Sora and her five children in front of her. The same photo that was framed above her bed.

Eyes brimming, he begins to flip the pages.

“Remember when we were all friends?” Reiju says as Sanji looks at the second page.

Six photos, side by side in twos along the length of the page, showed Sanji and his siblings, back when he was proud enough to call them so.

They were no older than 5, toddlers, and smiling.

The first picture had Niji atop Ichiji’s shoulders, and Yonji atop Sanji’s. They two youngers were charging at each other with sticks as they were mounted atop their elders, like a makeshift jousting fight. They all had giant smiles on their faces, and Sanji distinctly remembers Yonji slapping the glasses off of Niji’s face while Niji’s stick flew up Yonji’s nose shortly after the camera flash. What the photo also didn’t capture was Ichiji and Sanji falling over backwards with their brothers’ weights, and Yonji’s piercing scream that echoed off the walls.

The next picture is taken from his mother’s point of view, a picture of him and Yonji next to her and smiling up at the camera from under her bedsheets, where they were hiding during a game of ‘hide and seek’. Niji was always the sorest loser so whenever he was the seeker, he told the guards around the castle to keep an eye out with him, ever the sour-sport. Sanji remembers how a guard came in and asked where the two were, and his mother replying with a coy smile that she hasn��t seen them.

Sanji remembers the guard. The thought crosses his mind that he may be dead now. Perhaps under the order of Niji.

“Fuck..” Sanji mutters heartbrokenly. A small whimper grows in the back of his throat as he continues.

The next photo was a shot of the boys playing with Nyasha, the cat still a baby. Due to it’s altered genetics, however, Nyasha was much larger than a normal cat, standing at about what Sanji’s height is now when they were children. He buries the thought of Judge using animals before using his sons for his testing into the deepest corner of his mind.

Sanji was sprawled atop Nyasha’s head with a smile, buried in her fur, while Niji was at his side and grappling one her ears, as if wrestling it. Ichiji was sitting cross-legged in front of her, patting her nose, and Yonji was holding on to her tail as she wagged it, sliding back and forth along the ground. His heinous giggles were practically sounding through the photo, ever the hyper.

“We had fun.” Reiju says with a fond smile. Sanji, absentmindedly, nods.

The next photo had Reiju in it. Part of her, at least.

It was another perspective shot from their mother, with the back of Reiju’s pink head shallowing at the bottom of the frame. Her hands were up in front of her in claws and the four brothers were side by side, under a blanket at the foot of their mother’s bed. Ichiji, on the farthest left end, was fast asleep on his crossed arms and drooling. Next to him was Sanji, Niji, and Yonji, eyes wide with fear over whatever ghost story Reiju was portraying. Sanji and Yonji respectively had their arms clinging to their older brother in fear, with tears brimming in Sanji’s eyes and Yonji’s mouth open in mid-scream while in the middle, Niji had a stiff upper lip, trying horribly to conceal his fear. He remembers him, Yonji, and Niji later sneaking out of their respective bedrooms to meet up and sleep in Ichiji’s room, who was still softly snoring having been carried by one of the handmaids. Niji made a retort about how Ichiji’s snores would scare the ghosts away and he remembered completely agreeing with his older brother’s logic. Having pulled their blankets together to make a makeshift futon on the floor, the trio fell asleep with surefire hearts that they were safe from monsters, thanks to their unbeknownst eldest brother’s skills.

The next was when Germa had sailed into winter-island territories. They were outside, bundled up from head-to-toe in puffy winterwear in the midst of a snow-covered courtyard. Sanji remembers this day clearly as well, having been woken up by Niji and Yonji kicking his bedroom doors open with excited overlapping shouts of snow being outside. He raced with them down the steps of the castle to find Reiju and Ichiji being dressed into winter clothes by handmaids and their mother, who was well enough at the time to sometimes be out of bed. When outside, he, Niji, and Yonji decided to form an alliance and attack Ichiji with snowballs. “A revolution of the younger brothers”, he remembers Yonji screaming at the top of his lungs as Ichiji had ran and hid behind a flagpole, building a snowball cache of his own to fire back. The picture portrayed the trio mid-attack on one side of the field while Ichiji was mid-charge on the other, a pile of snowballs in one arm and the other extended mid-throw. They had spent hours in the snow that day, finally being coaxed back inside with promises of hot chocolate when their throats were sore from the dry air and their fingers were red with the cold.

The last photo on the page was the four of them in the castle bath, bubbles piled up to their chins. Yonji was leaning over the edge of the tub, posing for the camera with a wide smile and peace signs, while Niji and Sanji were mid-giggle at Ichiji, who was staring dead at the camera with a bubble beard and pointed ‘hat’ on his head. Their mother was sitting on the edge of the tub, arms heartbreakingly frail as she was mid-scrubbing Niji’s hair. Sanji didn’t understand how he missed the severity of his mother’s condition as a child, and his heart breaks at the thought of what she had to endure. Her fond smile towards her sons made him even more devastated.

He’s so selfish for reminiscing about a past he ran away from, while his mother was trapped in a nightmare she could not escape. A small part of him believes her early death to be a mercy of sorts. She wouldn’t have had to deal with the agony of witnessing what her sons had become.

Reiju stills in her seat, arms and legs crossed as she watches Sanji hunch over. Her eyes follow silver tears plopping down on the marble floor.

Sanji’s fingers ached with tension, shaking in their place as they held the book open in his lap.

He has never allowed himself to reflect on his brothers before they were altered, their new personalities taking a drastic turn against him and their brotherhood as a whole. When they turned 8, Sanji simply transitioned into a point in his life where he suddenly had no brothers.

“I imagine Mother looked through it often.” Reiju says, leaving the statement hanging in the air.

Sanji refuses to look up from his lap and closes the book shut. There were many more pages but he couldn’t bring himself to look through any more of it.

“Screw you.” Sanji spits, clenching the book with tensioned hands. “Why would you bother showing this to me? This... This is nothing. Just a book with pictures full of people I don’t know.”

Feeling overwhelmed enough to think his lungs are concaving, he stands from his seat and stalks out of Reiju’s room. Refusing to break down in the middle of the hallway, he leaves Germa entirely and rushes towards Whole Cake Chateau, from one prison to the next.

Watching his feet patter against the marble, taking lefts and rights to his room, as he buries himself in his mind. Dissociating is a terrifying thing.

Slamming the doors behind him, he exhales loudly and collapses onto the floor, shaking with the depths and weight of his strangled sobs.

It’s a horrible tragedy that had no other blame but Judge. Even what the horrid man called his sons had nothing to do with it.

With blurred vision, Sanji remembers the day Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji’s eyes went blank towards him. There was never even pure hatred behind them. Hate was an emotion. A human emotion that Sanji oh so desperately wanted to feel towards them. It would have made it all so much easier if they hated him, so he could hate them back.

But they were wiped into clean, mindless slates, not aware of anything they feel or do. They’re nothing more than drones with short leashes under Judge’s hand.

Do they still have their conscience?

Are they aware of what’s happened?

or did the boys Sanji grow up with die and are currently buried deep under a wall of bulletproof skin and mutated genetics?

Sanji never allowed himself to reminisce about what he had lost.

He hates that he was reminded of it.

how do yall feel :D

shameless self promo, follow me bc i write a lot more hc under the tag “juice writes”

and I also have updates to my AO3 coming up, starting with my 13K zosan filth fic

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softsnzstuff · 2 years ago

Note

PLEASE write Billy!!!!! Maybe with him meekly asking for some caretaking afterward and someone taking pity on him? 🥺🥺🥺

Hello!! Late to my own birthday prompt fill session but I come beating the news that I will also be filling Birthday prompts this weekend since I just had not a lot of time today! Been thinking about this for a hot minute, it is set about two years after Season 3 - I hope you like it! ~ KB

*****

Piercing blue eyes, glazed with fever, stared back at him through the mirror. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he knew Stacy wouldn’t care. Chewing on his toothpick and sniffling, he moved one of his perm curls into place.

The lone curl took center stage on his all-too-warm forehead as he sauntered out of his bedroom. A cough escaped him and he patted his chest.

“And where do you think you’re going?” A gentle woman’s voice hummed.

Billy closed his eyes and sighed with frustration. “I have a date.”

“No son of mine will be taking a girl out with a nasty bug like that, Billy.”

“I’m not your son,” Billy hissed through his teeth, “and you’re not my fucking mom.”

Neil Hargrove slammed his book down on the table. “Billy! Apologize to Susan right now and then call this girl and tell her you’re not coming!”

After years of learning the consequences, he knew better than to roll his eyes at his dad. Nonetheless he was not happy.

“Sorry Susan.” He grumbled.

“It’s fine Billy,” she sounded defeated, “Just go lie down. You look awful.”

The 20 year old coughed again, feeling the congestion inside him shift. God he hasn’t been this sick since…. He hasn’t been this sick since his mom used to take care of him.

Once his bedroom door was shut, he peeled off his skinny jeans and button down, replacing them with pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt.

Fuck he should’ve listened to Susan and stopped smoking indoors because right now the aroma of stale cigarettes was making his head throb.

He cracked the bedroom door open a few inches and crawled into his bed, forgetting to call Stacy before falling asleep.

***

It wasn’t even an hour later that he was woken up again by his own overly sensitive nose.

“ii’DZZshUHEW! EkTSCH! Heh-iSHEW!!”

All he could bother to do was let his head bob up and down on the pillow with each release as he sprayed the air above him.

Finally leaning back on his pillows, he swiped his wrist under his streaming nose, making eye contact with the redhead standing in his doorway.

“Wha’ddya want M’baxine??”

She stared at him, grimacing. “That was so fucking gross. Neil said you’re sick.”

Billy just coughed. “What of it?? I feel like shit. Haven’t felt this bad since my mom- nevermind.”

Max softened a bit. Her step brother never really talked about his mom, let alone his feelings. But perhaps this fever was eating at his brain.

“It’s okay Billy. Did your mom used to do something special?”

He was staring at the ceiling. At first max thought it was a lost cause to get him to open up, but then-

“T’ssZIEW! Snrkk ugh. My M’bom used to make me double n’doodle soup and jello… it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. That actually sounds… really nice. Do you want me to make you some? I can skate to the store really quick? Be back in twenty minutes?”

Billy paused, clearly contemplating if he wanted to let his constitution break.

“Would you really?”

That was the softest she’d ever heard him speak. She didn’t normally offer to do things for him, but he truly looked helpless in his bed right now.

“Yeah. I mean. You’re annoying as hell but I don’t hate you. Just don’t be a dick.”

She was already turning to leave when he called out to her.

“Max? Thank you.”

#s/tranger t/hings #b/illy h/argrove #m/ax m/ayfield #snzblr #snz kink #kb writes #ask box #sickfic

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waywardstraysau · 1 year ago

Photo

It took a total of five minutes for Stan and King to arrive, the sound of mutual laughter somehow drowning out the sound of the golfcart’s engine. The old man seemed to have a talent for making the little demon laugh, who launched himself into Luz’s arms as soon as he saw her. She happily told him about the obstacle course and introduced him to Lake, who was happy to give him chin scratches. Seeing they were done with the course already, Stan offered to drive the group back up to the school, and the Boiling Isles trio were happy to take the offer. Steven, Tulip, Lake, and the boy who she never got the name of, wanted to stay behind, saying they’d either rather walk or they were waiting for someone. Luz felt a little bad leaving them behind, but her excitement over what an art class in this place might be like kept her from feeling that way for long! Her mind swam with the possibilities!

Once they reached the building, the Pines twin offered to guide them to their next class since they were new and they took him up on the offer. As they walked and talked, he told them about his own experience with art… It was counterfeiting. He made it sound like it was past tense but between that and his lecture on hotwiring cars, she was getting a very interesting picture of the man. Eda would have liked him. When they reached the art room, they were surprised to find Dr. Lake there, minus her white coat and working at an easel. Luz hadn’t taken her for the artistic type, but from the look of it, she had quite the imagination! The painting depicted a strange creature with green skin, horns and a flat nose. It was very thin and willowy, with large bat-like wings and seemed to be reading a book. She had no idea what it was supposed to be about but it was a fascinating piece of art! “Lookin’ good there Barb!” A younger woman was standing at her side, hands on her hips and a smear of bright green paint on her left cheek. She was Taiwanese and in her early twenties at the very most, with long black hair that reached past her shoulders that was decorated with a single green hair clip and at least three piercings in each ear. She was wearing a denim jacket over a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it she couldn’t recognize, dull green jeans, and faded orange sneakers. She placed her hand on Dr. Lake’s shoulder and with a smile said, “Your blending has gotten so much better! You should be proud of it!” “Heh, thank you.” “Ladies!” Stan interrupted, “Sorry to bother ya but I got a delivery here for Marcy!” “Oh, hello Stanley,” Dr. Lake said, noticing them standing there for the first time. “Heya Stan my man!” the other woman, presumably Marcy, declared with a friendly wave, “Oh, are those our new kids?” “Yup, this is them!” He gave them a shove against their backs, making them stumble a little as they entered the room. “Hey,” the teacher said, “I’m Marcy Wu, but just call me Marcy, please, I’m way too young to be called Miss anything yet, just feels weird.” She chuckled and looked the three of them up and down before pointing, “Now lemme guess… Luz, King and Hunter, right?” “Y-Yeah!” the girl squeaked, “I guess Dr. Lake told you about us.” “Psh, nah, not really, she just told me your names, who had what name was easy to guess,” she said with a laugh, “Anyway, you guys are early, class won’t be for a little while yet. Why don’t you get comfy? You can do whatever you want until then while I finish up with Barb here. Oh, but if you’re gonna listen to music or watch a video or whatever, please use headphones, earbuds or something like that, okay?” That surprised Luz, she hadn’t expected that she was going to be allowed to play on her phone. Gravesfield had been pretty strict about that and Hexside had so much to learn about and study, that she had much more interesting things to keep her occupied during her freetime. Being allowed to actively use her phone felt… weirdly respectful? It made her smile. She looked around the room, it was well lit, with a series of large tables and chairs around them. Against the fall wall was a series of bookshelves that were being used to store an impressive amount of art supplies, ranging from pencils and pens to pastels and paints. Paper taken from sketch pads of varying sizes were stored near the supplies they were best used for, Luz recognized them from the craft stores she would browse with her mom before she made her way to the Boiling Isles. Hunter approached the shelves and seemed to be analyzing the options available, he seemed less than impressed. To the right was a series of comfortable seats, a few loveseats, one large couch and plenty of bean bag chairs… and lying on the floor, looking like a little kid, was MK, with a small box of crayons nearby. He had a large stack of loose leaf papers in front of him, and several of them were scattered about, all with brightly colored drawings on them. He seemed perfectly content with his set up, and she watched as he finished with whatever drawing he had been currently working on, set it aside, grabbed a new piece of paper and got to work again. From this angle, she couldn’t really make out what all the drawings were about, but the most recent one had someone with caramel brown hair and seemed to be dressed in red and yellow. To the left, there was a smartboard, there was also a large desk with an impressive computer setup, with two monitors and… was that a Wacom Cintiqu? Her eyes got huge, she’d never seen one in real life before! She made a mental note to beg Marcy to let her get a closer look later. “Luz, Boiling Isles to Luz,” King squeaked, snapping her back to reality, “What are you staring at girl?” “Oh, uh, sorry buddy. I got lost in thought for a minute there.” “Clearly,” he gave her a flat look, “Can we go draw now?” “Sure thing,” she smiled. She collected a few supplies from the shelves, and was surprised to find most of them were professional grade, the only thing she didn’t see were Copic Markers. Choosing not to focus on that, she grabbed a few pieces of paper, some supplies and sat at one of the tables. The two spent the next several minutes, doodling and making small comments about the other’s work. After a while, they noticed Hunter had taken to sitting at the table farthest from the rest, and looking oddly uncomfortable. They didn’t have long to ruminate on it, as Marcy finished helping Dr. Lake with her painting, and as they cleaned up, a few of the other students finally arrived. The art teacher greeted them all brightly and laughed when a few pointed out the paint on her face. Luz spotted the boy from the obstacle course again, he was talking to the doctor but she couldn’t hear what it was about. If she had to guess, it probably had to do with Hunter getting hurt. The other students all sat down and chatted as they got comfortable, and she felt a spike of excitement as Jake, Danny and Randy sat at the same table as her and King. “Alright guys!” Marcy’s voice got everyone’s attention, “This week, we’re gonna be doing some more fun assignments! I want you all to make something that you have a positive association with in regards to your unique situation! Anything goes with this one, it can be places, people, specific moments, sentimental items, whatever you want them to be! And you can use whatever medium you want!” A few of the students muttered to each other, seeming to like the sound of it. “By Friday, I want you to write a paragraph about a few of the things you drew, to tell me a little bit about your subjects. You don’t need a whole lot, just enough to give us an idea about it. Remember, for assignments like this, there are no right or wrong answers, it’s all about gaining a better understanding of yourselves.” The others nodded and got up to get their supplies, while Luz stayed in her seat, she already had what she needed… just what to draw? She pulled out her phone and began to scroll through the pictures she had of the Boiling Isles, maybe she could draw her friends, or Eda, or… She paused when she saw a picture of the Owl House. She just stared and her eyes widened. Yeah… yeah that’ll do. She shuffled through the pencils, picked an H6, and began to sketch. At the secluded table, Hunter was staring blankly at the paper before him. He had grabbed the first one he could find, a large piece of black construction paper… and he had no idea what to do with it. He had never done an art project like this before, he’d done basic schematics and drawn out plans of attack but nothing like… this. He had no idea what to do and felt like he was in some sort of strange trap. “You okay there kiddo?”

He nearly jumped when the teacher approached him, a warm smile on her face.

“I uh… ahem, y-yes ma’am. I’m fine.”

“You sure, ‘cause you look like you’re bothered by something.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“...hey, if you’re stuck, I can help if you want,” she crouched beside him, resting her arms on the table, “Art ain’t the easiest thing in the world, especially if you’re exploring something as complicated as your own emotions and thoughts.”

“I don’t need help with something as mundane as… drawing.”

“Maybe not, but organizing your thoughts is pretty darn hard. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

“...it’s not that hard.”

“Mhm… tell ya what, how about you start by describing something you like to me!”

“Describe?”

“Yeah, paint me a word picture, it might help you figure out what you’d wanna draw. Like I said, there’s no wrong answers, it just has to be something positive.”

He looked down at the black paper.

“Well… there’s Emperor Belos.”

“Who’s that?”

“The emperor of the Boiling Isles… and its savior. He brought order to magic, and brought us all together under the will of the Titan.”

She stared… blinked… she seemed to be making some sort of connection in her mind.

“So… he’s a political leader and a major religious figure?” she asked.

“Yes, of course!”

“Hm… well, why don’t you try drawing him?”

Hunter paused. He blinked.

He felt so incredibly stupid for not thinking of that sooner.

He grabbed the colored pencils she had provided and began to rapidly scribble.

“Easy there trigger, remember, there’s no rush to this,” Marcy said with a chuckle but he didn’t answer. He planned to get through this assignment as quickly as possible and then go over the materials Douxie had given him and the human earlier. Seeing he wasn’t going to respond to her, she left and went to help the other students.

Hunter worked on his drawing for about ten minutes, decided it was good enough, and then moved onto the next part of the assignment. He wrote a single, short paragraph, praising Emperor Belos and his glory. Once he finished, he started studying the reading material.

By the time class had ended, the trio had turned in a careful pencil sketch of the Owl House, a hastily done colored pencil drawing of Emperor Belos, and a child’s drawing of the Owl Lady and Hooty.

Their next class was Magical History, and Luz almost ran to the class in sheer excitement! Hunter, while more composed, did walk with a noticeably faster than normal pace.

Blinky taught the class in an almost dramatic fashion, if Strickler was a storyteller, the troll was a thespian entertaining a rapt audience. Granted, she would have been sucked in regardless, the human realm had a real, honest to Titan, history of magic, how could she not? She took as many detailed notes as she could, listening to the troll as he explained a major historical event.

“Now, the First Battle of Klilahead Bridge marked the end of the struggle between Gunmar’s army of Gumm-Gumms and the rest of trollkind, as well as some knights from the nearby human kingdom,” he explained, “For those of you who are not familiar with trolls, Gumm-Gumms were an incredibly dangerous and vicious group of warriors. At the time, most magical creatures had taken extensive steps to separate ourselves from humanity, and humans, in turn, did their part. Doing so would ensure peace and safety for both sides, humans would leave us alone, and we would stop eating them.”

…somehow she wasn’t surprised that that used to be a thing. She looked at the various pictures of the trolls in question that he had on the smartboard, making sure she matched the names to the faces.

“Gunmar and his followers however, did not like this arrangement, and attempted to overtake the surface world. Those who did not follow him were trapped in the middle, they were in danger from the humans and from the Gumm-Gumms alike. Like all major conflicts, some wanted to fight, others wanted to hide and not get involved, and I should know, I was there to witness it!”

There were a few mumbles at this, intrigue ignited.

“Now, as the situation was escalating, a wizard decided to do something about it. He created a magical amulet, one able to choose its own champion, the Amulet of Daylight.”

He gestured to a picture of an amulet, it had a metal base, with a light blue gem, two arms that made it very watch-like, as well as a series of metal rings that probably had some sort of purpose.

“This amulet granted its champion great power, magical armor, a sword made of daylight given physical form, as well as a sacred obligation. They became known as our Trollhunter, and the first was Deya the Deliverer, who did glorious battle against Gunmar and won, sealing him and his army away in the Darklands. The Killahead Bridge was then disassembled and the pieces hidden around the world!”

This felt more like a myth than actual history and she was loving it!

“...until his minions collected them and reassembled the bridge just last year.”

And there it was.

“Gunmar and his army would have taken over the surface world, if it were not for our current-”

Blinky’s lecture was cut off by a phone alarm going off, though the alarm was rather amusing. The recorded voice of Douxie repeated “Blinky, you need to stop, class is over. Send them to me,” over and over again.

Luz bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, a few others let their snickering loose…

King just broke down into cackling.

The troll harrumphed, turned off the alarm, quickly assigned their homework and dismissed the class. Before the Boiling Isles trio left, he handed Luz and Hunter some packets of paper that summarized major historical events that they absolutely needed to know. He was visibly delighted at how excited and in awe they respectively looked, especially when they tried to read as they left.

“Careful!”

They both nearly walked into the door while they were reading.

Luz had been grabbed on one shoulder by a very pretty latina, and the first thing she noticed was a large patch of her hair was pure white. It took up most of her bangs, while the rest was a very dark brown, almost black and was tied back into a small ponytail. She also had brown eyes, darker than her own but still very friendly and kind. She was wearing a pink shirt with a turtleneck, on it was a stylized skull with the word “Hamlet” under it, both in a darker shade of pink. She also had a classy purple jacket with sleeves that reached just past her elbows, a single indigo skirt, dark gray leggings and small black boots.

Hunter had been stopped by the boy from earlier, the one whose name they still hadn’t gotten. For some reason the witch seemed annoyed.

“Whoa, wow, uh, thanks for the save,” Luz stammered out, her brain taking a second to process what almost just happened.

“No problem,” the girl said, “I’m kind of surprised you guys started reading right away. Not everyone jumps right in after one of Blinky’s lectures.”

“How could I not?! I mean… there’s magic here! In the Human Realm! This is like some sort of weird dream come true!”

“I thought the Boiling Isles was your dream come true!” King piped up, “They better not be stealing you away from us!”

“Titan, please, let that happen,” Hunter prayed out loud.

Both of the newcomers visibly flinched at the word “Titan” and took a step back.

“...you guys okay?” Luz asked.

“...you… uh… when you say “titan” what do you mean exactly?” the boy asked, his stance noticeably tense. Behind him, she could see Blinky looked just as on guard as they did.

She was suddenly nervous, she could feel King hold onto her, and Hunter, noticing their change in demeanor, tensed up.

“Uh… I… I went to another world, th-the Demon Realm… and I ended up at a place called the Boiling Isles… which is a landmass… that’s the decaying carcass of a Titan…”

Their eyes noticeably widened, and their poses relaxed.

“...it’s… dead?” the boy asked.

“Mhm… has been for centuries…”

All three of them sighed in relief, the tension evaporating as they did.

“Do you guys… not like Titans?” she probed carefully.

“...we… had a bad experience with some last year.”

“YOU'VE SEEN LIVING TITANS?!”

Luz and King had both shouted something, but Hunter’s voice drowned them both out.

“...uh… yeah,” the boy said, clearly taken off guard by the yelling, “Three of them.”

“Do… do you… h-have pictures?” he managed to choke out, his eyes big and his whole body was shaking ever so slightly.

The two strangers look at each other before pulling out their phones and showing…

Uh…

“...you call those Titans in this realm?”

The trio was not impressed by the three elemental… golems was the most accurate word for them. A volcanic one, an ice one, and a plant/earth one, and while the sight of them did excite her, when compared to the sheer size of the Titan that made up her beloved island, they were nothing.

“They almost caused the end of the world,” the girl said, “They were summoned to reset Earth, wipe out all humanity and start again.”

“Ooooooo, diabolical!” King declared, tapping his claws together like a supervillain.

“Okay, they’re nothing like our Titan,” Luz said as she pulled out her phone to show them, “Our’s is a lot bigger….”

When she showed them the pictures she had taken, both teenagers went noticeably pale.

“Either way, I think we have very different kinds of Titans,” she smiled awkwardly, “Our’s is also worshiped as a god, so I think we’re kinda comparing apples to oranges here. Oh, by the way, I’m Luz Noceda, this is King and that’s Hunter, you can probably guess but they’re both from the Demon Realm.”

“I can introduce myself, human,” the blonde rumbled.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” the girl said, the awkwardness melting away, “I’m Claire Nunez.”

“And I’m Jim Lake Jr,” the boy smiled.

“Lake? Like Dr. Lake? Oh, are you her son? I saw your pictures when we were in her office yesterday!”

“Heh, yeah, I am… wait, why did you see my mom yesterday?”

“Goblin scratch,” she admitted as she lifted her leg to show her bandages, “One hell of a way to be introduced to this place.”

“Wait, that was you? Jake and the others told us about that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they were texting us while they were helping us hunt them down.”

She did vaguely recall them mentioning how many goblins they had taken out compared to someone else.

“Oh, well, they kinda ran into us when Coraline was giving us the tour around here… and one thing led to another.”

“Well that shouldn’t happen again,” Claire said as she put her hands on her hips, “We’re hoping to find their nest soon.”

“Honestly, I faced a lot worse back on the Boiling Isles,” she admitted as she rubbed the back of her head, “But uh, ya know, if you need any help with them… I could… maybe… help? …oh Titan that came out so weird, I’m so sorry.”

“Eh, we’ve done worse,” Jim said with a shrug, “This one time, we ended up hunting down some goblins who stole a car. The police ended up finding us and thought we took it.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Yeah, the same thing happened when we went after some goblins hiding in the museum after hours. There was also the time I had to explain away why I was wearing armor and I ended up getting the role of Romeo in the school play.”

“Wait, you mean Romeo & Juliet?” Luz stepped forward excitedly, “I auditioned for that! Well as Juliet I mean, but still!”

“Really?” that got Claire’s attention, “I got that part.”

“You did? Lucky! I didn’t even get cast!”

“Well, that happens someti-”

“And I got sent to the principal’s office because I stuffed the costume with sausage links and set up my costume to tear for the “happy dagger” scene!”

That made the slender girl’s eyes get big.

“...you did that… just for the auditions?”

“...yes?”

Luz was suddenly scared she had said too much.

“That’s… pretty amazing dedication… and you didn’t get cast or anything?”

“No… everyone… kinda ran away screaming…”

“Granted, what you did was a bit extreme but at the same time, pretty impressive.”

“...you think so?”

“Yeah, plus it’s always nice to meet a fellow thespian.”

“Well I wouldn’t call myself that. It was my first and only audition.”

“You still went for it though, you should be proud of that.”

She felt a strange sort of… humbling pride was the best way she could put it. It made her happy though so it had to be good!

“Anyway, Douxie’s class is the last one of the day,” Jim informed as they left the room, “He probably won’t call on you guys too much since it’s your first day and all.”

“About that… what does his class actually go over?” Luz piped up, “While I was in the Demon Realm, I went to a school called Hexside and it had classes on all sorts of topics, and this place only having one class on magic… just what are we getting into?”

“Well, Douxie has experience with all sorts of magic from around the world, so he tries to cover as many subjects as he can. If someone has experience in a particular kind of magic, he’ll ask them to help in class that day.”

“They get extra credit for how helpful they are,” Claire said with a laugh, “He once asked Jake to help demonstrate basic dragon biology, it went well until he had to sneeze. Turns out dragons can sneeze fireballs, nearly burned Douxie’s hair off.”

Luz had to place a hand over her mouth to try not to giggle.

When they got to the classroom, the trio sat at the front, she looked very excited, Hunter looked curious and King curled up in the former’s lap for a nap. Class began when Douxie played a power chord on his guitar to get everyone’s attention before he floated some chalk up to the board. Noone knew why he used a traditional chalkboard and plain white chalk to teach but it certainly fit the vibe of the room better than a smartboard would have.

For the first lesson, he explained how to make a simple sleep potion, one to temporarily cure insomnia, and with a flick of his wrist, manifested what they needed on their desks. He demonstrated, step by step, what to do to make the potion perfect, then had them add a fistful of lavender at the end, to “make it palatable.” It gave the potion a warm, cozy smell that was incredibly relaxing and soothing.

While the potions simmered, Douxie drew a general map of the forest around the school and marked a number of locations on it. He went on to explain that they were the best locations to find certain ingredients, in what quantities and how hard they were to get.

“Because I know you kids are gonna go and make stuff without telling us teachers first, I can at least make sure you don’t get yourselves killed out there first.”

Luz did a brief glance around the room, and caught far too many indications of the others’ guilt. Flinching, averting eyes, nervously playing with their own hair, apparently doing things you weren’t supposed to was common around here.

The final lesson was about the local magical creatures and what they would be willing to trade in exchange for things you wouldn’t just be able to find in the wild. Fur trimmings, tears, claw and hoof clippings, and to be careful if you were looking for fairy dust, because it was illegal in Oregon. He ended the lesson by saying if you need anything from a unicorn, be sure to outnumber them because the easiest way to get what you needed from them was an actual fight.

By the time class ended, the potions had finished simmering and they all carefully poured them into small vials to take with them.

“You really think that thing’s gonna work?” King asked as he peered at the purple substance, “Eda never made a potion like this before.”

“Well the Boiling Isles probably had potions similar to it, but just made with different ingredients,” Luz mused, and wondered if the color had come from the lavender they added at the end, “Hunter, you’re smart, is there something like this back there?”

The witch had been staring at the potion as well, clearly deep in thought, and stole an annoyed glance at being interrupted.

“Yes. There are. Granted, I’ve never even heard of some of these ingredients but from what little I can make sense of from this and the reading material we were given earlier, it seems sound enough.”

She smiled at him as they stepped out into the hall, feeling vindicated.

“Thank you Hunter. So… you wanna go over the stuff we learned in class?!”

He paused, summoned Flapjack in staff form to his hand, stepped backwards towards a window and pushed it open.

“Imma say… no. Bye~!”

In a flash of golden magic, he disappeared out into the blue sky, and could be seen flying away, towards the forest. She sighed in acceptance, maybe next time, for now thought, she looked at the potion with renewed enthusiasm.

“This is the start of something great…”

#wayward strays #Wayward Strays AU #the owl house #toh #luz noceda #hunter toh #king clawthorne #grunkle stan #tales of arcadia #amphibia #marcy wu #douxie #crossover #Massive Crossover #fanfic

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moonchild-things · 1 year ago

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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Tempo

Summary: Shōyō Hinata loves volleyball! There is no doubt that all he really thinks about is volleyball. His sister, however, isn’t the same way. Sakura is ready to start her first year of high school at Karasuno with her twin brother and doesn’t really want to do anything, unlike Shōyō. Though she can’t help it when she gets dragged into the antics of the volleyball club.

Word Count: 6303

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A/n: Oh I feel so productive! I finished writing this today, finished editing three videos that imma post on my youtube channel in the coming weeks and working on some more, and I worked on my manuscript for NaNoWriMo! Not only that but I got a requested story that I'm working on, it'll take me a bit but I'm finishing up the outline, get it checked and then get to posting some nice long chapters of it lmao Anyway, on with the chapter!

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EVERYONE COULD TELL THAT SKAURA WAS TENSE about something. It’s usual for her to sit on her own, rarely talk or engage in conversations while at her club. However, from the way that she was even more withdrawn than normal, everyone figured that there was something wrong. They hadn’t seen her like this before, so none of them were really sure how to bring it up to her. After all, what if they said something insensitive to her since they didn’t know what was going on with her. Well, that would matter if the people in this club actually knew how to be considerate of that.

Which is why Wada had walked over to Sakrau’s table and leaned over towards her. His piercing eyes stared down at her as she looked over some of her notes that she took in class. Feeling the gaze on her, Sakura glanced up to come face to face with Wada and his slightly concerned expression.

“Is everything okay with you, Hinata-chan?”

Sakura stared at him with a normal bored look, “I’m fine,” she leaned away from him, “now leave me alone, please. I’m trying to study.”

“You always study,” He whined, “but you’ve been glaring at that same paper for over thirty minutes and I’m beginning to think you’re trying to start a fire with your mind.”

She sighed heavily through her nose, knowing that he wasn’t just going to leave her alone like she wanted. For most of the day today, she had been fussed over by Yachi. Sakura really does appreciate the fact that she has a best friend who cares about her and her wellbeing, but it got annoying eventually. Of course, Sakura didn’t say that to Yachi at all since she didn’t want to hurt her feelings or anything. So she was hoping that when she came to her own club that no one would mention anything to her.

Though she realized that she only has herself to blame for this. She was acting more withdrawn than usual, zoning out from time to time and getting lost in her thoughts. She figured that out after noticing the strange looks Shimada was giving her. Maybe she should have done a bit better to make it seem like nothing was bothering her. The last thing she needs is for them to bother her as well.

She looked back down at her papers, not really paying attention to what was on it, “And what if I am?”

Wada gave her a look and sighed, “Listen, I know that we all are a bit worried about you…”

“Why would you be?” Sakura snapped.

“Well, I overheard a little rumor about you getting into a fight with your brother.”

Sakura gritted her teeth, “Damn Endo.” She knew that it had to be him who spread it a bit. Let it be known that Sakura hates how drama hungry Endo Joji can be at times.

Noticing how Sakura was growing uncomfortable and annoyed, Mori decided to speak up. Her heavenly voice said, “Wada, please. If Hinata-chan doesn’t want to talk about anything, then we don’t have to push her.”

“I mean…” Emi trailed off as she, Wada, Yokoyama, and Ito all shared a look with each other. “We all are curious.”

Sakura just grunted, “It’s just personal issues with my brother, that’s all.”

“Oh! Though I heard that you were actually fighting your brother and Kageyama-kun!” Yokoyama exclaimed, a bit excited at the prospect of a fight. She smiled widely, “You must have gotten quite a few punches in, right?”

“No,” Ito shook her head, “she’s too short to throw a proper punch, she definitely went for the legs.”

Wada pursed his lips, “Though her brother is the same height, no?”

“But are you hurt!?” Emi then shouted, becoming extremely worried, “Oh, they would definitely be able to hurt you badly! We-”

Sakura cut off any other stupid rumors or speculations that they could make with a harsh glare, “Can you guys shut up.”

All of them shuttered at the menacing look on Sakura’s face. They could all feel the impending aura surrounding them as Sakura glared at them. They collectively shouted out in fear, “Y-Yes Ma’am!”

With it being obvious that Sakura didn’t want to talk about any of this with them, they decided to leave it alone. They didn’t want to push Sakura too far to the point that she left or anything. So they needed to move on and focus on something else, whether that be showing off some of their photos or complaining about their recent grades. However, there was only one person who seemed to be a bit more

“You know, it’s okay to say that you’re hurt.” Mori Aiko said softly as she leaned against Sakura’s table.

“I’m not,” Sakura rubbed her head, “Shōyō couldn’t hit hard enough to leave a bruise or anything.”

Mori gave her a knowing look, one that made Sakura shift uncomfortably in her seat. The crystal blue eyes of the vice president were seemingly looking right through Sakura, and she didn’t really like that. Mori continued to say, “Not physically, emotionally. It’s okay to say that he hurt your feelings, because I can see that it did.”

Sakura looked away from her, not exactly the best at talking about things like her feelings. She played with her fingers for a moment, trying to decide on what to say. “I know he didn’t mean to hurt me or anything, but it did hurt to realize that I couldn’t help him, I guess.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, “Shōyō is the more emotional out of us, and I always know how to help him or see a logical side to things. This time I don’t know. I’ve just… I’ve realized that we need space. My brother and I have been attached at the hip for too long.”

“Did you not think it was healthy?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Before I went to bed last night, I had a thought; I had been using Shōyō as a shield to hide from everything, I guess. I used him as an excuse for a lot of things, to explain how I acted or why I did things. Now, after…” There was a little bit of a grimace on her face, “Last night I figured that it’s time to distance myself from that. I’m a high schooler now, I need to learn about myself and not just be a shadow to my twin.”

There had always been a part of her that knew this fact. Knew that she was not really her own person and was hanging onto her brother for far too long. She’s known that ever since she started high school, that’s why she tried to branch out by means of the photography club! She wanted to be her own person, but never really had the push to really make it a reality for it. Though perhaps after last night, this could be the right push that she needed. She didn’t really picture it being because her brother would hurt her, but whatever it was was still good enough to get her on that track.

“That’s very mature of you, Hinata-chan.” Mori smiled, breaking Sakura out of her thoughts, “Realizing that must not have been easy.”

Sakura just shrugged her shoulders, “it was a bit uncomfortable to come to terms with, I guess. Though it’s the truth, so I can’t really deny it or run from it.”

“Still, it's very impressive of you."

"Impressive?” The younger girl pursed her lips. Her cheeks were a bit pink now that she was complemented by such a pretty girl, “Maybe."

“Just make sure you talk with your brother about it. So you both are on the same page.”

Sakura nodded her head, knowing that it was definitely a good idea. So the two were then absorbed back into whatever conversation the rest of their club members were having. Mori felt happy to give Sakura an outlet to talk a bit more about her issues, and Sakura felt lighter to have actually articulated what was running through her head.

---

When it got considerably later in the day, it was time for students to be heading home. Sakura had only stuck around in her club a bit longer because she somewhat dreaded having to see her brother. After all, she knew that they had to have quite the important conversation when they actually got home. She was anxious about it, there was no denying it. Sakura could stand up to other people for her brother, but talking to him about something like this left her nervous. They��ve never really had a moment in their lives where they would have to question their relationship or have serious conversations.

Surprisingly, Shōyō hadn’t been around to nag Sakura about her riding home by herself. Sakura wasn’t sure what to think about it, nor did she even know where he was! She noticed that his bike was still at the bike rack but with practice over she would have figured that he would already be gone or him waiting for her. It certainly was concerning. Though she brushed it off, it had to just be that he was avoiding her somehow. It certainly had become uncomfortable between them since last night so she could understand that.

So perhaps she would get to ride home on her own for once. Even as she grabbed her bike and mounted it, the nagging feeling of the unknown location of her brother was bothering her just a bit. It wasn’t like him to just not be around and not leave some sort of note for her about where he was. Though it’s not like she was really expecting him to since he knew she was somewhat avoiding him.

Most of the time when the twins got into an argument there were a few things that would happen really. If it was some small disagreement, Shōyō would bother Sakura to the point of annoying her and eventually the two would forget anything happened. If it was something a bit more severe, like this time, they would keep their space from each other. Shōyō kept away to keep any further arguments from happening, until the two cooled off to apologize and then made up. That rarely ever happened since the two never got into large arguments, but it wasn’t impossible.

As she rode home on her own, Sakura was preoccupied with trying to map out what she was going to say to her brother. After all, she had to make her intentions clear. It was the right opportunity, the time to explain her growing feelings about wanting to have distance. Though her mind was thinking about how he was going to react to what she wanted. Would he be angry? Upset? Would he yell at her? Argue with her? Sakura couldn’t be certain about what he would do. This was uncharted territory, if she was being honest with herself.

She arrived home sooner than she thought, too caught up in her mind to really notice. So she put her bike away, greeted her mom and sister, and waited in her shared bedroom for her brother to come home. At one point, she was even thinking of writing her thoughts down to give to Shōyō. That way they would be as clear as possible as she was starting to feel like she would be tongue-tied when she actually got to talk to him.

“Hi mom!” An excited voice that sent ice into Sakura’s chest shouted from the door. There was a conversation from the kitchen as Shōyō bounced around the home, returning from his trip with Coach Ukai and old Coach Ukai. It was quite the eye-opening practice that he had with the old crow coach and the kids out there. He couldn’t wait to tell Sakura about it! He certainly was conflicted when he found that her bike wasn’t still next to his when he got back, but he understood. It was getting late and as much as he wanted to ride with her to make sure that she was fine, like a big brother should, he didn’t expect her to wait forever. Especially since he’s certain she’s upset with him.

There was quite a bit of apprehension swirling in his gut as he made his way to their shared bedroom. As he walked into his room he found Sakura sitting on her bed, propped up against the wall as she read over some notes like usual. The twins stared at each other for a moment. Both were quite anxious about what the other had to say. Shōyō was quite certain that she was angry with him right now, while Sakura was trying to figure out if he would be angry with her after what she has to say.

As Shōyō put his backpack down next to his bed and plopped down onto it. Might as well as get this over with, she thought to herself. Sakura cleared her throat, “Okay, Shōyō, I wanted to say that I’m not angry with you.”

“You’re not?” Shōyō asked, more than surprised by that.

She shook her head, “No. I put myself between you and the King, so I can’t really blame you or anything, it was an accident.”

He let out a puff of air, relieved that she wasn’t upset with him. Though he hastily said, “I am sorry though! I never want to hurt you, accident or not.”

“Which is why I’m not angry with you.” Sakura chucked slightly before sobering, “But I do want to talk with you about… how clingy I am. ”

Shōyō blinked, “Clingy?” That wasn’t a word that he would use to describe his sister. Especially considering she liked to keep herself away from most people and normally just be around him, their family, or by herself. So why would she think that she’s clingy?

“Yea. I mean I have been since we were infants, mom says so.” Sakura tried to make a bit of a joke, though it didn’t land as Shōyō was just staring at her in confusion. “But even all through school and such. I don’t normally stray far from you.”

He tilted his head in confusion, “that’s an issue?”

Sakura pursed her lips, “well, yes.” It took a moment for her to find the right way to say this. She really should have written it down. At least she’d have a plan on what she was going to say. “I just figured that it would be a good idea to have… distance. You know, so we can do our own things.”

She really did lose him after that as Shōyō attempted to try and find where she was going with this. Honestly, he really was trying to understand since he knew this was a serious conversation but he wasn’t seeing where she was going with this. “Though we already do our own things… I’m on the volleyball team, and you’re in the photography club.”

“That is true, but…” Sakura sighed, “Okay, let me rephrase that. It would be a good idea for me to find my own identity.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Sakura has an identity. She’s Hinata Sakura! What else could she mean? Oh no! Had he hit her head so hard that she forgot who she was?! This is worse than he thought!!

Before he could freak out about hitting her too hard, Sakura said, “Shōyō, you do know that everyone refers to me as your shadow, your clone. I’m not ‘Sakura’, I’m ‘Shōyō’s twin’.”

He blinked, “Is that wrong?” He wasn’t oblivious enough to not notice that. It had been happening ever since they were little. Sure, when they were a lot younger Sakura was more distinguishable from him since she had longer hair. Though after she got her hair cut sometime in junior high she ended up getting confused with him more often. Considering she kept her hair short, Shōyō didn’t think that she had an issue with that.

“It’s not wrong,” Sakura quickly amended, “but I just… I want to be seen as my own person, you know. When people talk about me or think about me I don’t want their first thought to be Shōyō’s doppelganger’. ”

Shōyō stared at her for a hot moment, trying to understand what she was saying. Was this his fault? Was she actually upset with him and just lying to not hurt his feelings? Had the fight that he had with Kageyama finally driven Sakura to the point where she wanted to distance herself from him? That she felt so annoyed with him that she didn’t even want people to think of her as his twin?

This had to be because being on the volleyball team had made him more emotional. Not to say that he wasn’t emotional about volleyball before they started at Karasuno, but it certainly had escalated. The fight the other day was a good example of that. So was she saying this because she wanted him to not do it anymore? He certainly wouldn’t, but he would consider it for her.

Sakura could see the confusion on his face, figuring that he wasn’t really getting at what she was saying. She tried to make things clear by saying, “There’s nothing wrong with me being called that, but I want to be my own person.”

A sour look consumed his face, “If you don’t like me being on the team you can just say it.”

“That’s not it,” Sakura stated in her own confusion. So he really was taking it the wrong way, just as Sakura had dreaded. How he reached that conclusion, she’s unsure, “I have supported you and your passion, Shōyō, and will not stop doing that.”

“So why do you want to get away from me? Why now?” The only thing, in his mind, that had changed for Sakura to leave him is that he joined the Karasuno team. So that just had to be the reason!

She blinked at the seemingly rising harshness in his words, “It’s not like I just randomly thought of this today.”

“If you had, you would have told me! We tell each other everything, right?”

Sakura looked away, ashamed to admit that wasn’t true, “Not this, I didn’t tell you about this.”

It was as if that was the biggest betrayal to him. After all, they grew up with each other keeping no secrets from each other, no matter what. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?” They never kept things from each other, at least Shoyo thought. It was actually heart breaking for him to realize this.

“I- I just- I didn’t know how to.” She stuttered out, “I honestly was still trying to understand how I felt about it.” How was she going to really articulate to him that she had been struggling with it for a while. That she was bullied quite a bit during junior high over it. That, despite what she tried to portray to him, she was more than insecure about herself due to it. She didn’t think that it would help him to really know that. Maybe he would even feel bad about it, which she didn’t want him to.

He shook his head, “You could have at least mentioned it, because I really don’t understand. You want to just abandon me?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying!”

“It sounds like it!”

The two were starting to get a bit more heated. Both of their emotions were starting to boil over. With Shōyō taking Sakura’s words the wrong way and Sakura getting frustrated she couldn’t get it right, things were not going all too well.

“There’s nothing that would convince me to abandon you!” Sakura shouted now, “I just want to do my own thing right now, can’t you understand that at least?”

Shōyō grunted, turning away, “No. Because my sister wouldn’t just suddenly want to leave me alone.”

“I’m not- I’m not leaving you alone! At no point did I say that!” Though even if she tried to insist on it, he had turned to face away from her. She figured that with his stubbornness, he was going to make his mind up and stick with it for the time being. There wasn’t much she could say or do that would convince him otherwise. She’ll just have to try again at some point perhaps. She let out a large sigh, there might have been a few tears in her eyes as well though she disregarded that, “Look, I plan on going to Tokyo with you and the team but after that… I’m going to focus on my photography and my own friends.”

Shōyō snapped, “You actually have your own friends?”

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him, “Yes. I do.”

“Really?” He asked sarcastically, “Okay sure, whatever.” It seemed like the conversation was over after that. Whether Sakura had anything else to say to him or any rebuttal, Shōyō wasn’t going to listen as he made his way to the bathroom to change clothes. Even when he came back both of them were quiet.

Nothing else was said between the twins as they got themselves ready for bed. Maybe Shōyō should have apologized, maybe Sakura should have tried again to make it clear, but it was already too late. There was a bitter taste in both of their mouths. Whatever attempt that either wanted to make amends with each other was just a pipe dream at this point. If anything, this might have just made things a bit more difficult than to begin with.

---

If there was one thing that just about everyone noticed, it was that Sakura wasn’t coming to their practices as much anymore. The boys were used to having Sakura sitting on the sidelines alongside their managers and coach, so not having her there was a bit strange. There was no sarcastic or snide remarks made by her on the sidelines and it was just strange for everyone.

“Where do you think Sakura is?” Yamaguchi asked his best friend, only a little concerned at the girl’s disappearance. She was always at their practices, even skipping her own club if it meant getting to be at theirs. A few times, Yamaguchi will admit, he has tried to convince her to go to her own club. It might have swayed her even a little bit a couple of times, but nothing too significant. As her friend, he does his best to encourage her to do well with her photography. Ever since they had a heart to heart some time ago and grown closer as friends, he likes to believe that he’s getting to her a bit.

Perhaps that’s why she wasn’t here! Focusing on her own interests and finding her love for it. After the last gallery he saw of hers, he knew she was growing stronger in her confidence, so maybe not being at the practice was her just going to her own club to work on her passion. At least, he hoped.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, going about his stretch like normal, “What does it matter? One less person to annoy us.”

The green-haired boy tilted his head slightly, “Even you have to be wondering though.”

He deadpanned, “No.”

Yamaguchi didn’t seem to be as convinced, he just hummed. He knows his best friend, and knows that there’s at least a little part of him that is wondering about her. Yamaguchi is more than aware that Tsukishima had a bit more of an interest in Sakura. He chalked that up to Tsukishima doing what he could to get a rise out of Sakura from time to time, or when he was annoyed by her brother. Yamaguchi couldn’t really pinpoint if Tsukishima enjoyed her being around, but he knew that Tsukishima at least noticed it. Ever since they first came into practice, Tsukishima’s eyes drifted, ever so slightly, towards the managers. It wouldn’t be all that strange, However, Yamaguchi just knew that Tsukishima was looking for Sakura. As much as he could say that Tsukishima is his best friend, the blond could still be a bit of an enigma to him. There was something that Yamaguchi noticed every once in a while from Tsukishima. He wasn’t going to voice his questions or suspicions just yet, but he knows for a fact that it has to do with Sakura.

He had a feeling that Tsukishima was frustrated by Sakura, more often than he’d like to admit. In the beginning, Yamaguchi saw why Sakura ticked him off. They are very much alike and Sakura never really acted the way that Tsukishima wanted her to when he tried to get a rise out of her. He expected her to be like her brother, much like how she looks like a clone to him. Though since she’s got quite a pessimistic personality, much like himself, Yamaguchi theorizes that Tsukishima wasn’t expecting it. He even theorizes that Tsukishima was surprised to the point that he wanted to push her to the point where she did react. Yamaguchi wasn’t supportive of this, obviously. Though what was he going to do about it?

So he just dropped the subject. Either way, Yamaguchi might be lost in his thoughts about how his two friends were acting, but there was one person lost in his thoughts about his sister. Shōyō was the one who mainly could sense Sakura’s disappearance, since he was blaming himself for her not being there. Like a part of him was missing, and it really didn’t sit right with him.

Even if Ukai was talking to him, Shōyō wasn’t completely registering it in his mind. He was understanding the plan that Ukai wanted to try during this practice, but his mind was still thinking about the absence of his sister. Even when they were heading to school, Sakura kept herself distanced from him. He certainly wasn’t used to

“All right, let’s get this started!” Their coach said as he rallied them all together. “Make sure you stay hydrated!”

All the boys lined up to get ready, “Right.”

As all the boys were getting ready for their practice, Yachi had something on her mind. “Um… Hinata.” She nervously tried to get Shōyō’s attention. “U-Um, I was wondering if you were okay… You and Kageyama-kun, um, uh…”

Shōyō just smiled, a bit wistfully, like he wasn’t completely hearing her, “I’m fine.”

Yachi let out a relieved sigh, glad that there might be some resolution between them. Though she could tell that there was an underlying emotion that surrounded the boy. No doubt in her mind that it was about his sister. As the boys went about their practice, Yachi thought back to the school day. Sakura had been a bit more reserved than normal, which is saying something since Sakura does love to keep to herself in class. Yachi had been a bit fussy over Sakura, she realized how pushy she might have been. But she had wanted to see if Sakura was really ok! She wanted to make sure that she wasn’t hurt, how her and her brother were after it, and if it was as bad as Yachi thought. Sakura didn’t say too much about it. Though she did reassure Yachi that everything was fine, that her brother was fine, and nothing was wrong. Yachi didn’t completely believe her, and really did try to hold herself back, but she was anxious to know. Perhaps she was being too pushy. Though she really was just worried for her friend! She just hoped that Sakura was doing okay now while at her own club.

“Say, Yachi-chan,” a sly voice slid over to her, “where is our little paparazzi-chan?”

She blinked up at Endo, who suddenly appeared beside her. The intense gaze that he was pinpointing her with caused a shiver to crawl down her spine. “Uh, at her club, probably.”

Endo hummed, “A bit weird that she isn’t here.”

Yachi just blinked at him, “Well, m-maybe.” She really didn’t like it whenever Endo got into her personal space and looked at her like this.

He tapped his chin, “Just makes me wonder… Is our little decoy in a fight with his clone?” He really couldn’t wait to find out what was going on with the twins. Oh, how fun it might end up being.

---

When Asahi had asked Endo to stick around and help him practice a bit, Endo was more than happy to oblige. Any time he can get to hang around with his best friend, he certainly was going to take it. An added plus was getting to avoid his father for even longer by staying in the gym. So he just worked on setting the ball to Asahi so he could spike it. Then they would swap so Endo could work on his own spikes. Though they also took some breaks for Asahi to work on his serves. Since that was the biggest thing that Asahi had wanted to work on, Endo was more than happy to help him with that when needed.

Though just as Asahi served another ball over the net with some strong determination behind it, their libero came out of nowhere and saved it from hitting the floor. “Asahi-san! Endo-san! Mind if I join you?”

Asahi just blinked at him, put out that Nishinoya could easily receive his serve. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Endo shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, “I guess.” He had been hoping to just have practice between him and Asahi, but he supposed that it was fine. Nishinoya could join if he wanted. Not that he was going to be salty about it or anything, he’s not Tsukishima. Besides out of the others to join, Endo supposed that Nishinoya was alright.

Nishinoya excitedly asked, “Would you mind hitting some of my tosses?”

“Yeah, sure.” It took a moment for the libero’s words to hit him, but Asahi blinked when he finally understood, “Uh, wait, what? You’re going to toss?”

“Did you change positions?” Endo asked, also thoroughly confused.

Nishinoya smiled, “I’ll help you with your serves, too, Asahi-san. Then I can help Endo with your receives since they’re horrible.”

Endo scowled, “they’re not that bad.”

A determined look came over Asahi’s face, “Sure. Let’s do this.”

“All right!”

So the trio practiced for a while. Nishinoya worked on his technique to toss the ball, Asahi worked on his serves, and Endo was just there helping them out where they needed to. Not that Endo thought he didn’t have anything that he could work on, he certainly could improve a lot of his skills. Though what was the point in him working on something when two starters had to work on something. It was more important.

At one point, Asahi had said he needed a break to go to the bathroom, so obviously they paused. Endo sat himself down against the edge of the wall, a bit tired. He wasn’t exactly tired from practicing, since he was really just hitting the ball to Nishinoya for him to set and Asahi to

“Endo,” Nishinoya said, standing over him now “Do you really want to be on this team?”

He chuckled loudly, “Whoa, quite blunt there, Nishi!”

“With you I know I have to be.” The libero then peered down closely at him, “So?”

Endo didn’t really like the way that Nishinoya was staring at him. Like he was trying to look right through him to find out what was going on in his head. He never likes when people try to do that. Endo pursed his lips in thought, before deciding on what to say, “My father… He’s not exactly supportive of me staying on the team.”

“Though you’re still here.”

Endo scoffed, “Obviously! I will take any chance I get to spite him! Though he did say some things that made me question why I’m here to begin with.”

After the loud conversation that he had with his father about volleyball, his future career and their relationships as a whole, Endo was at a bit of a loss. There were revelations between them that it was a good thing that they talked about. Even though Endo said to him that he wanted to keep doing volleyball during his highschool career, he questioned it still. If he really didn’t intend on continuing playing into university what was the point of playing now? Should he be focusing on his studies for his entrance exams? Going with his father to the company and learning more about it?

“Hey!” Nishinoya shouted, abruptly breaking Endo from his own thoughts, “If you’re starting to have doubts about being on the team, figure it out quickly! Either get off the team or stay!” Endo blinked at the loudness of his friend, with his mouth a bit agape at his yells. Nishinoya continued with a hard look on his face, “If you leave I’ll definitely call you a coward, though understand why, especially with your father breathing down your neck.”

Endo scoffed, “My father did make some good points, since I’m destined to work at his company and take over when the time comes, I should be focusing on my studies more.”

At the mention of studying, Nishinoya’s nose wrinkled. “So? Are you going to quit now, even when we’re close to getting a chance at winning!”

Endo had put quite a lot into this team. Effort that his father may not understand, but effort that Endo was proud of. So what was he going to do? He licked his lips, “I wanted to stick around for as long as I can, I want to see you guys win. I want to see Asahi happy because of it.” Yeah, he definitely would be more than content with seeing Asahi happy. He shook his head, “Though it’s not like I’m important to the team or anything.”

“It doesn’t matter if you're a starter or a bench warmer, you’re a part of this team!” Nishinoya said strongly, seemingly trying to get that notion out of Endo’s head.

Endo didn’t think that he was valuable to the team, not in the slightest. He was never a starter, his teammates were always so much better than him, and he never put the same amount of time into the team like they did. He did what was asked of him, but never overachieved. Nishinoya saying that he was important to the team was…

Nishinoya continued, “All I’m saying is either commit or don’t waste more time!”

---

Yeah, Nishinoya is right, Endo thought every time he was at practice after that day. He never knew he would believe that, but Nishinoya does have his moments it seems. So as time past and they had their practices, Endo was making his decision. He wanted to stick around. He wants to be with his friends, he’s only in high school once, and he wasn’t going to let the responsibilities of adulthood haunt him yet.

Karasuno’s practices were going well. The team was coming up with new playstyles, improving on their existing skills and having fun doing it. Yes, Shoyo was a bit of a downer at times, most likely due to his sister’s absence, but he worked through it.

Not seeing Sakura at practice had become the norm. It worried a few, didn’t matter to others, and was interesting to one. After all, everyone had been accustomed to having her at every practice no matter what since the beginning of the school year. Everyone figured that it had to do with the fight that had happened between their sunshine decoy and gloomy setter. However, they had to wonder what Sakura thought about it.

Meanwhile, Sakura was at her own club, listening in on the plans for the “Heroes” gallery. She wouldn’t say that she’s happier not being at the volleyball practices, but she also wasn’t upset about not being there. She did miss getting to talk with Kiyoko and Yachi. However, not having to deal with the volleyball idiots like Tsukishima, Nishinoya, Kageyama, Tanaka, Endo was a near god-send. Now she just had to deal with the idiots within her own club. So she was… content for the time being. Even if she was still upset about the argument she had with her brother. Though she’d push that to the back of her mind. They had the gallery tonight, just before summer vacation started, so they were getting that all settled. She certainly was excited about that since she got the photo that she wanted. Even if it made her feel a bit… sorrowful. Though for now she’d just focus on how Ito and Wada were arguing yet again about something trivial.

In the volleyball club’s gym, Takeda gathered the boys all together. “Now, that it’s summer vacation, we can practice from morning to night.” He said to the group after one of their practices, “And starting tomorrow, we’ll resume the Tokyo away games. This time, we’ll be there for a solid week! This is the first and last long-term training camp before the spring tournament prelims. Let’s make the most of this opportunity, so we have no regrets entering the spring tournament prelims.” All of the boys definitely were eager to get the chance to play against such talented teams at the camp. One of the most eager, was Shōyō. Even with the fact that his sister and him hadn’t been on the best of terms, he put all his effort in getting better. With the team and his time with old Coach Ukai, he certainly thinks that he’s improved. Hopefully, he could use that to convince Sakura that she doesn’t need to leave to “find her identity” when she should be perfectly fine with being his twin.

---

Blog Masterlist | Red Herring Masterlist | Last Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Ah, so a little bit of conflict between the twins now, and it's serious. I figured I wanted their to be some misunderstanding between the twins since they never have had something like that happen to them before. They're not perfect siblings, but they've never argued to the point of staying away from each other, you know what I mean. Just figured it was a good way to have some character development between them. Then we've got the Tokyo training camp coming up next, but before that, we've got another gallery to see from Sakura! Not going to lie, I feel like the actual dialogue that I wrote for the agreement between Shōyō and Sakura was a bit... lacking, but I think it does it's job. Until the next one, my friends~

#ocs #fanfiction #multiple ocs #fanfic #oc #female oc #female!oc #male oc #male!oc #anime fanfiction #anime #haikyu oc #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyū!!#haikyu #haikyuu!!#hinata!oc #hinata twins #hinata

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sillyfanatic · 2 years ago

Text

Odd relations

I’m alive folks!!

First of all!! Happy New Year omg <333 May 2023 bring the best in all of us!!

Okok enjoy this little ficlet! It’s not much, but it’s seomthing and i’m almost proud of it! If you want some good angst and a classic little argument by two (kind of daft) hedgehogs who don’t know they’re in love, this is for yu!!! enjoy <3

click here to read it on ao3!!!

(wc; 1985)

“Do you ever get lonely?” The words escape his mouth before he knew he’d spoken them, and perhaps it was better left that way. The strength to speak evaded him as of late, fleeing to some unknown horizon where he was doubtful he’d ever see it return.

“Hm?” The other mumbled, unsure of how to respond. The night was silent, the grass wet and cold; it served as the only evidence it had rained. The clouds above them had parted long ago, leaving the soothing moonlight to bathe them in a subtle white glow.

“I dunno.” The blue hedgehog answered. He’d spoken without reason, without answer in mind. He scrunched his nose, bothered by the way he let emotion carry him, bothered by the fact that he could never stop himself, at least not within his presence.

“Hm.” Shadow hummed again, and one could suppose it was a response.

Such was their dynamic, Sonic figured. He would mumble some incoherent thing, and the other would nod and hum, rarely blessing him with a worded response.

The hero’s brain seemed to be melting more and more as the days passed, sensible thoughts and emotions flying out the window. Everything felt like a pile of mush, and it wasn’t entirely his fault, rather, it was the hedgehog besides him that caused it.

“Do you even like me?” Sonic turned to observe the one that sat besides him, gaze lining his figure delicately, observing.

He knew it was a stupid inquiry, he knew he was being stupid, and yet, he could not bring himself to care. The question had begun to itch his mind, and an answer eluded him completely.

“What?” The other graces him with a single word, turning briefly to eye him with concern.

“You heard me.” He stated boldly. “Do you even like me?”

Shadow tore his gaze away, eyes focused on the horizon before them. His brows furrowed, lips pursed in thought, and Sonic could not help himself in mirroring the expression, curious as to the answer that awaited him.

“May I ask what makes you say that?” Shadow spoke after a prolonged silence, his voice gravelly in the midnight air.

“Sure, dude.” He replies, heart picking up a more rapid pace. The hero takes a deep breath, ready to piece together words that hopefully functioned together well enough to be considered a sentence.

“I know it hasn’t been long that we’ve been… like this.” He gestured in between the two of them, highlighting the mere inches that separates their bodies. “But I don’t get it, man.” Another deep breath, one a person would take before admitting something they weren’t supposed to. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Shadow. I’ve never hated you. I mean, since the moment we fucking met, I knew there was a cool ass person underneath all of those walls you’d built for yourself.” He scoffed, memories of a time not long passed grazing at his mind. “I liked you, I’ve always liked you. But you…”

Shadow’s demeanour had not changed, his gaze unwavering and piercing, always looking forward, rarely (if ever) glancing to the person besides him.

Sonic pressed his lips together, certainly an attempt to keep a saddened sigh at bay. “I don’t know. You say you hate me, and yet you stick around. You say you ‘tolerate’ me, and yet you find me here, in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night, and- and you join me.” Sonic gestures to the grass that surrounded them, to the vast emptiness that engulfed all.

“I mean how the fuck did you find me? Why would you ever want to?” The hedgehog let out a frustrated laugh, tearing his gaze away from the other. “I don’t understand you, and that’s okay. But you won’t let me.” The brief smile he’d worn vanished. “I suppose that’s okay, too.” He admits quietly, a feeling akin to hopelessness settling in his heart. Maybe he’d truly, finally, lost his head.

With a small bitter chuckle, the blue hedgehog stood, harshly scraping away wet pieces of grass that had clung to his fur.

“I’m not sure I can do this anymore, Shadow.” The words were spoken tiredly, because he was tired. Sick and tired, really, to pour such time and emotion in a relationship that seemed to end before it ever began. Sonic’s head was a mess, he could barely sleep anymore, for Chaos’ sake.

The hero waited a second, and then another. Silence followed his words, like it always did. He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, if he’d finally opened up, the other would too. That’s not how life really worked, he supposed. The blue hedgehog turned on his heels, more than ready to leave this place behind.

“It’s not true.” The words were quiet, spoken under a shaky breath. Sonic thought he’d imagined them.

“What?” He questioned, turning around to face the other. Shadow stood, then, eyes focused solely on Sonic as he did so.

“I don’t hate you, I don’t merely ‘tolerate’ you.” The agent crossed his arms, his gaze harsh and unwavering as ever. Sonic felt himself go warm underneath the unusual attention, his stomach tying itself in a nervous knot. “It’s not true.” He repeated the words, cementing them. So, they hadn’t been imagined, huh?

The blue hedgehog took a small pause, huffing out an annoyed breath. “Then what is it, dude?” He inquired, frustration bubbling up alongside the nerves in his stomach. “Be my friend, don’t be my friend, I don’t care, I just want to know which one it is.” He was lying and he knew it, it mattered, and he was afraid to admit it.

“It’s not that easy, Sonic.” The words were bitter. Why were they always bitter?

“Yes it is, man. Like me or not, don’t leave me in this weird in-between where I can’t tell insult from fucking compliment.” His words were getting harsher, this was not like him. He wasn’t being himself, in fact, it felt like he hadn’t been himself for a while. “Chaos, Shadow, I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“And you think I do?” The agent replied, his voice tearing through the quietness of the night. Shadow did not yell often, but he was more than capable of it, Sonic knew that much. Sonic had heard it once, had seen it from his own eyes. “You think that it is easy for me to know how to feel, what to think?” Crimson eyes were now solely focused on him, and the hero could not look away. He narrowed his own, puzzled by the response he was finally given.

“You think that this has all been easy for me?”

“Shadow, that’s not what I’m saying-“

“Shut up.”

“Shadow, it’s not-“

“Shut. UP!” The shout tore through the air, ragged and venomous. It shook the hero slightly, who had to take a step back and regain his balance.

“I have been alone for what feels like fucking decades.” The agent spoke, his voice shaky. “I had lived in that stupid fucking tin can floating in space for as long as I can remember, and all I’d dreamed about while I was up there, was to be down here.”

“So how do you think it felt, when I was brought here, just to see that everyone feared me? How do you think it felt, when I saw that everyone viewed me as a monster?” The dark hedgehog turned, facing the horizon once more. Sonic could not find the strength to move, frozen in place for what seemed like the first time.

“Not fucking great, I’ll answer for you.” Shadow scoffed, mocking the memories that haunted him. “I was lost, Sonic.”

He knew this. They both knew this. And yet, it needed to be said. They needed to hear it, to feel it.

“I was lost, and then I found you.” He awarded a quick glance to the one that stood still besides him, shaking his head. “You treated me like a person, not like the lab experiment I am, not like the alien I might be, and not like the monster they made me out to be.”

“And how do you think I felt then, when someone showed me care, when I could barely even remember the feeling of love, of acceptance.”

“How do you think I felt when you persisted. When you showed determination and friendliness, despite everything I’d done to push you away?”

“I forced myself to accept you, and so we became rivals. I forced myself to stop pushing you away, and so we became friends. But I’m not good at this, Sonic. I don’t know what friends do, I don’t know if friends are even supposed to talk like this, to feel like this.” The agent uncrossed his arms, tilting his head down to observe his gloved hands. “I don’t know.”

His hands dropped to his sides, and the dark hedgehog was still for a moment. Without another word, the agent sat down again, choosing to stay here, in this moment in time, in this random empty field. He tilted his head, silently observing the stars as the other observed him.

Sonic stood still, his mushy brain struggling to absorb every word that had been spoken - in fact, he was fairly certain this was the most Shadow had ever uttered in his life, for Chaos’ sake.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth, as he stood, unmoving.

“Don’t be.” Shadow’s tone had returned to its usual cadence, monotone with little emotion to show. The brief and flagrant display of sentiment was short lived, gone before Sonic had the chance to understand it.

“No, fuck, I really am.”

“It’s fine.” The sharp responses were familiar territory, and the hero did not know what to make of it. Was this return to normalcy good— or was it bad?

“It’s not, I’m such an asshole.” Sonic found the strength to move then, plopping himself lazily besides the other. He held his head in his hands, sighing frustratedly at himself. “I’ve been so focused on myself, on how I feel and whatever, I didn’t even think to take your past into consideration.” He shook his head from side to side, closing his eyes. “You’ve been through so much shadow. You’ve been through shit that would usually break a person, and you’re still standing. Or, well, sitting here, besides me, living and breathing.”

“Hm. Living the fucking dream.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, and Sonic could not help himself in smiling. This seemed to be the extent of Shadow’s humour, and catching glimpses of it was always a rare treat.

“Seriously, I’m really sorry. It’s unfair of me to expect ‘normalcy’ from you. I get it.” Sonic paused, correcting himself; “well, no, I don’t get it and I never will, but I guess that’s kind of the point?” He was starting to give himself a headache, the only result you could expect when trying to figure out the enigma that sat besides you. “Fuck, I’m just stupid. Keep doing what you’re doing, dude. Keep finding me in the middle of the night, keep being mysterious and different, keep being Shadow.”

“I’ll try.” The other spoke, and as Sonic glanced towards him, he noticed the smallest of smiles decorated his usually pursed lips. “But you have to stop referring to me as ‘dude’” And just like that the smile was gone, and a feeling of familiar ease enveloped Sonic.

Maybe Sonic wasn’t okay, so what? Maybe Shadow wasn’t either. This friendship was different, and that was fine. The hero did not understand the person besides him, and that was okay. Time would fix the unease, time would help stitch old wounds, and time would help solve a mystery or two. This, he was sure of.

As for now, Sonic was content in enjoying whatever this was.

okay,, guys it’s been a few months and I’m in shambles as I always tend to be BUT I managed to write THIS ! this is technically nothing, it’s a story with no point and it’s kind of not well written BUT!! hopefully I’ll get my groove back on by posting this little thing >:3 enjoy!! And please tell me your thoughts and critiques <3

#myr writes #my writing #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic #shadow #small fic #shadnic #angst

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gothamghostwhispers · 3 months ago

Note

1-70 (all)

Oh boy all of them?? Alright here we go

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

They’re both dead but I had a good relationship with my mom and a bad one with my dad

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

That’d be my husband Beau

03: Do you regret anything?

Everyone has their regrets

04: Are you insecure?

Eeeeeh depends

05: What is your relationship status?

Married! ^u^

06: How do you want to die?

Like in my sleep I guess? Or like surrounded by friends and family where I know they’re safe

07: What did you last eat?

Uuuuuuuuuh….. I think last night

08: Played any sports?

I did dance up until I was 16…

09: Do you bite your nails?

Not really, used to buy got out of the habit when Calendar Man told me how that got his last goons caught by the Bat so I stopped at like 17ish

10: When was your last physical fight?

A couple weeks ago

11: Do you like someone?

Yeah

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

Yes, in college

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Yes

14: Do you miss someone?

Yeah :c I miss my husband, I’m glad I went to a specialist but it was difficult to sleep

15: Have any pets?

Anon we have so many pets, and also also some creatures that live here but are not pets

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Relieved, doctors switched out the additives for a saline drip so Peeta should be waking up soon

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

18: Are you scared of spiders?

I’m basically the designated spider catcher in the goonion because of my notorious lack of a care about spiders

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

No. I like the present very much actually, way more then my past

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

…. The lab

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

As long as nothing happens? Weekend in

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

I’ve actually always wanted to have kids, never wanted to give birth though which was a whole thing for a bit

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

Yes… let see… a labret, nose, both lobes, upper lobe on my left, and both orbital conchs… so that’s 7

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

English for sure, but also fae lore is probably my best subject now since meeting Beau

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

Sometimes I miss Anna, but she was still deep in the cult… she was even there for the abduction

26: What are you craving right now?

Batburger

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

I don’t think I have?

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

I don’t think so?

30: What’s irritating you right now?

Hospitals smell bad

31: Does somebody love you?

Yes

32: What is your favourite color?

Blue

33: Do you have trust issues?

Eeeeeh I don’t think my issues are do use around trust

I’m pretty good at figuring out who to trust

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

I had a strange dream, I was floating inside a giant tube and Beau walked in and like dropped his clipboard with a shocked express

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

Beau

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

Eeeeeh not sure nobody’s really bothered for a second chance

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

Forgive

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

I think it might be yeah

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

I think I was 15?

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

51: Favourite food?

Is it corny to say anything my husband makes for me? I like a lot of things

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Yeah

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Checked the locks and set up traps since hotel locks are garbage

54: Is cheating ever okay?

No, you set the rules of the relationship why would you ever break them?

55: Are you mean?

I don’t think I am

56: How many people have you fist fought?

Too many to count

57: Do you believe in true love?

Yes

58: Favourite weather?

I like slightly cloudy days and clear skies at night

59: Do you like the snow?

It’s alright, I don’t like the cold but snow is alright

60: Do you wanna get married?

I am married and I’m still having a wedding later

Yes clearly

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Depends on how it’s said

62: What makes you happy?

There’s a lot of things that make me happy, spending time with my family, reading… like there’s many things in life that bring joy

63: Would you change your name?

I already changed my name once and I like my current name

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

Not at all

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Uuuuh next question

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

What does complete self even mean?

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

I think it was one of the doctors

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

That’d be my eldest daughter Sofia

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

Kind of hard not to

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

Yeah, my family

#whispers #only in gotham #only in gotham rp #bugboi #alvi #Sofia #Peeta #Anna #ask meme

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frogsister87 · 2 years ago

Text

Are you attracted to the last person that kissed you?

Not so much right now

What did you do yesterday?

Worked and hung out with Alicia

Something you really want right now?

Answers

If you could seek revenge on someone would you?

Nah

How long have you liked the person you like?

If we wanna get really deep, on and off since I was about 12

Are you happy with the way things are going?

Nope

Would you ever get a tattoo?

I already have tattoos

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now?

What plans do you have for tomorrow?

Laundry and crafting

Has a friendship ended recently that you wish had not?

Things might be heading that way right now

What are you listening to right now?

Do you and your last ex hate each other?

I don’t think so

What are you afraid of?

Lots of stuff

When was the last time you were sick?

Around Christmas time

Do you tend to waste a lot of money?

Do you have trust issues?

Not really

Do you think this year will be better than last?

Who knows

Have you ever regretted kissing someone?

Yeah

Are you a jealous person?

Yes

When was the last time you got a haircut?

Just after Halloween

Do you know anyone that smokes weed?

Obviously

Who is the last person you rode in a car with?

Illa

Do you look more like your mom or your dad?

My mom probably

Are there any stressful situations in your life?

Yes

If you were caught cheating would you fess up?

Yeah

The last time you honestly felt broken?

Right now

Best thing about the last person you chatted on facebook?

I can’t pick just one thing

Best thing about the last person you talked to in person?

She’s always supportive of me

When was the last time you shaved your legs?

I don’t know like a week ago

Is there someone you wish you were closer to?

Not really

Have any addictions?

Not really

Are you anything like your siblings?

I hope not

Have you ever had a stalker?

Kind of

Have you ever received an injury from a hook up?

Yes lol

What did you last eat?

Spaghetti

Who is the last person you hugged?

Ummm… Ruth?

Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex?

Yes

Are you keeping anything from your best friend(s) now?

Where do you get your clothes?

Shein usually

Do you have a secret you’ve never told anyone?

Yes

Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

Would you rather sleep alone or with someone?

Alone

Have you ever lived with a girlfriend/boyfriend?

Yes

When was the last time something bothered you?

Today and everyday since February

Who was the first male you talked to today?

I don’t know

Are you completely over your past relationships?

Do you get attached to people easily?

Yes

Are you currently looking forward to anything?

Do you believe in love?

Not really

Let’s be honest, have you ever been played by someone?

Yep

Have you ever played someone?

Yeah

What is currently on your mind?

My back hurts

Would it hurt seeing the last person you kissed, kissing someone else?

At this point in time yes

How many piercings have you had in your life?

Who else is in the room with you?

No one

Have you ever been beside someone while they were throwing up?

Yeah

Did you eat breakfast today?

Nope

When was the last time you cried?

Today

Do you like tea?

Yeah

When was the last time you took a nap?

I don’t know

What song is stuck in your head?

None

Do you have a TV in your room?

Yep

Have you ever broken a bone?

Yeah

Have you ever had stitches?

Yeah

Are you wearing a sweatshirt?

Yes

Have you taken a shower in the last 24 hours?

Yep

Are there things in your life that you’ll never be able to get over?

Probably

Can you remember who you liked this time last year?

Yes

What’s one physical flaw you’d like to fix about yourself?

My nose is crooked

What do you do when you’re feeling extremely nervous?

Pace

Do you have a hard time letting go?

If I really care, yes

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

What do you plan on doing now?

Sleep hopefully

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writerinthewild · 2 years ago

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Petrichor - written in summer 2022

It was the first day of summer and, much like every summer year after year, it was a disappointment. The first day of summer used to mean the twinkling melody of the ice cream truck on Grant Road, getting brain freeze from a Ruby Red popsicle, and rollerskating down to the public pool. At the ripe age of sixteen, the first day of summer now meant lying in front of the air conditioning, listening to the pattering of the rain against the tar roads and counting the distance between thunderclaps, too hot to move away, too bored to turn on the TV and too tired to crawl over to one of the bookshelves and attempt to read something from my school’s reading list. An open window let the earthy smell of the rainstorm waft through the room. Petrichor, it was called. I’d read that somewhere.

“Fitzgerald Wright, don’t tell me you’re still lying there,” Mom said, crossing through the room to grab her umbrella. Damn it. Now, I would keep doing the exact same thing, but with more guilt. She stopped and stared at me. Or, I assumed she was staring. I didn’t bother turning my head. In fact, I was pretty sure sweat had permanently stuck the back of my neck to the floor. “When I was your age, I couldn’t wait for the first day of summer. Go out, see some friends, enjoy your youth!”

“It’s raining.” She clicked her tongue.

“I can see that. Take Dad’s car and drive your friends to the mall. Here, I’ll even give you five dollars for a movie.”

“It’s too hot.” Also, I didn’t have any friends to hang out with. I’d told her that many times, but she refused to listen, and would just start to list off the names of the kids who’d, at best, completely iced me out. At worse, well, I didn’t come home with black eyes for nothing. I don’t know what it was about me that made my parents believe I was a cool, suave, troublemaker who always got into fights, but it felt wrong correcting them. I heard Mom sigh.

“I worry about you, Fitz.” Maybe you should’ve worried more before naming me Fitzgerald. What kind of name is that? “You should be going out at your age, not hanging around here in absolute silence.”

“It’s not silent. The AC’s on.”

“Very funny.” She sighed again. “I’m going to run some errands, you better not be lying here when I get home this evening, understood?”

“I won’t commit to anything.” She walked out, most definitely shaking her head and asking herself what she had done to deserve such a son. Silence reigned once more. The silent rumbling of the AC, the silent dripping of rain, the silent clapping of thunder, the silent whirring of my thoughts. My thoughts, haunted by the flushing toilets that filled my ears with water and my eyes with piss, haunted by the fists against my nose, haunted by the sideways glances of my teachers who all thought I brought this upon myself. The same thoughts that kept me up at night, all night, every night. Suddenly, the idea of some music didn’t seem so bad. I peeled myself off the ground, staggered to the console to grab the radio and a book, and then took them to the porch. ‘Good Vibrations’, the Beach Boys. How fitting for a day like this. I sat down with the radio at my feet and inspected the cover of the book I’d picked up. Dad’s high school copy of Farenheit 451. He’d been trying to get me to read it since the eighth grade, but I said no. Dystopias depressed me. But I had to read it for September, so fuck it. I lit a cigarette and turned to page 1. The first line was underlined in bright red pen, and I could almost picture my dad reading it in the back of a classroom, twirling his pen around the way he did when he helped me with my math homework. I barely made it through a chapter before my reading was interrupted by the piercing shriek of a tire sliding across the road. I glanced up from the book just in time to see some guy skid up to my driveway, crash into a tree, and be thrown off his bike and onto the street. He lay face down in the gutter just long enough for me to set my book down, slip on my flip-flops and run out into the pouring rain to make sure he was still breathing.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, crouching down beside him. He groaned and flipped over, giving me a clear view of his face, blood and raindrops leaving reddish tracks down his forehead and cheeks. When his eyes met mine, I held my breath. They were a deep, dark blue, bluer than I’d ever seen, but there was something calming about them, like the cloudless sky at dusk, just when you could start to see the stars. A wet strand of blondish hair stuck to the side of his face and he pushed it away, our eyes still locked together. A car drove by, splashing us both as it crossed through a puddle, which made him laugh a little bit, then wince. Blood stained his teeth as he smiled.

“Fuck, my face really hurts,” he said finally, rubbing his forehead. “Tell me, how bad is the damage?” I didn’t know how to answer that question. If the guys at school had taught me anything, it was that any comment made about another guy’s face could and would result in a sucker-punch. If I said something mean, it would be taken as an insult, and if I said something nice, it would just be another reason to be called a queer. “Wow, that bad, huh?”

“You’re bleeding… Here, come inside and I’ll try to find a bandaid or something. Can you stand up?” I offered him my arm and pulled him up to his feet. He limped, wincing at each step, until we got up to my porch, the radio now playing some Nancy Sinatra song. I knew Mom would kill me if we left wet footprints all over the floor, but I was also pretty sure she’d kill me if I left him out here in drenched clothes, so I walked him to the couch. He let out a long sigh as he sunk into the cushions, his hair dripping all over the pillows.

“What were you doing biking in this weather anyway?” I asked as I dug around for a first aid kit.

“My car was out of gas so I was looking for somewhere to get some.”

“Couldn’t you have waited the rain out at home?” I returned with the kit in one hand and a bag of frozen peas in the other, which I handed to him to press up against his head. “I’m Fitz, by the way.”

“Short for Fitzgerald?” I nodded. Surprisingly, very few people ever made that connection. “I like that name. I’m Johnny and I’m not from around here, so I’m kinda stranded without my car.”

“Can I…” I asked, hesitantly pushing his hair away to reveal the gash over his right eyebrow. “Shit, it looks like you fell on a stone or something.”

“Do you have a saline solution?”

“Uh, I think so. I dunno, I don’t really use any of this stuff.” I pulled out a clear glass bottle and, reading the label, I assumed it was what I was looking for. Having absolutely zero knowledge of first aid, I poured some on his wound, and covered it with a wide bandaid. “Are your knees okay?” He looked down, as if completely unaware of the fact that his bare knees were bloodied as well. He chuckled.

“I feel like a little kid again. Yeah, they’ll be fine. I don’t think I need to wrap them or anything.”

“You sure? I have gauze.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks, though.” His wet shirt clung to his chest and I noticed the faint outline of muscles, which made me blush and look away.

“Do you want something dry? My mom would be furious if she found out I let you sit in wet clothes for hours.” He smiled, and my gaze fell on the tiny hole in his right earlobe.

“That would be great, thank you.” I padded over to my bedroom to grab him something, and to switch out my own clothes while I was at it.

“Do you wanna call your parents?” I asked, returning, drier, with a clean towel and clothes I thought might fit him. He shook his head.

“They’re states away. I’m just passing through here.”

“Alone? I wish my parents would let me do that. What are you… a rising senior?” He looked slightly older than me, and I had just finished my sophomore year. He shrugged.

“I’m not in school anymore, but I guess I would be, yeah.”

“Oh. Dropped out?” Some people might have thought my questions were invasive, but he didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged again.

“Something like that.” I handed him the change of clothes.

“Where you headed?”

“California. A friend of mine said he might be able to get me a job there, so I’m taking a chance.”

“Well, get changed and I can drive you to get a gas tank, if you want.” A loud clap of thunder made us both jump. “It might be better than riding your bike out there. The bathroom is the first door to your right.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” I helped him off the couch and he limped to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I didn’t know why I had offered to drive him. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe lying on my back in front of the AC wasn’t the way I wanted to spend my first day of summer after all. Maybe I was a little bit intrigued by Johnny, a boy who’d ride his bike in a storm to get gas, and drive all the way to California from New Mexico by himself to get a job. More than likely, it was all three. He reemerged, his long hair messy from an attempt to pat it dry, and his face clean from any blood that was still left, with his clothes balled up in a wet lump.

“Do you want food? We can put your clothes in the dryer while we eat.”

“You really don’t need to go through any more trouble.”

“It’s just leftovers, and I’m starving anyway.” I popped some of last night’s mac and cheese in the microwave and threw his clothes in the dryer. “Where are you coming from? Denver or Wichita?”

“Nashville, Tennessee.”

“You drove here all the way from Nashville?”

“Yeah. I like being on the road, and highway motel parking lots are more private than city ones.”

“That hardly seems safe for a six—sev—eighteen-year-old?” He smiled again.

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen year old, then.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.” I opened the fridge and took out two beers, offering him one. My parents would have killed me if they knew I was drinking but hey, that was what being home alone was for.

“Runaway?” I didn’t like the taste of beer, but anything tasted refreshing in this heat.

“It was a mutual decision.”

“Where you sleeping tonight?”

“I don’t have much of a plan. I left Texas early enough that I hoped I could get to Arizona before sundown until my car broke down in…”

“Nowhere, New Mexico.”

“Exactly. Now, I guess I’ll try to get as far west as I can and figure it out from there.”

“I know we aren’t quite as west as you’d like, but do you want to sleep here? I know I don’t know you or anything, but I guess I’d feel kind of bad knowing you’re sleeping in some parking lot during a storm. We have a guest room and my parents don’t even know my friends so I can just say you’re in my English class or something, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He pondered my offer, and glanced around the house. I wondered what it would be like for a stranger’s house to be my safest sleeping option. As excited as I was to eventually go off to college, I couldn’t begin to imagine being so far away from everything and everyone I knew. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“I don’t want to lie to you, since you’re being so nice to me and everything, so I just want to let you know that I’m gay, and if you have a problem with that, that’s totally fine and I’ll leave right now.” Neither of us moved a muscle.

“Oh.” Three words rested at the tip of my tongue, somehow bitter and sweet, aching to be free. At first, I thought the tension in his shoulders and the whiteness of his knuckles was fear, the same fear I walked with every time I crossed the doorway into the Hell that was my high school. He kept his jaw clenched, waiting for me to say something else, to throw him out, to spit at him. It wasn’t fear that flickered behind the darkness of his eyes. It was something else. Coldness, anticipation, and just enough anger to fight back if I became violent. It was as if he were the predator, ready to pounce. “So am I.” The microwave beeped, an invisible cord snapped, and the coldness dissipated. His smile returned as I took our steaming food out and set it on the counter in front of him. I had never thought those words could bring me a sense of relief. I’d never even been brave enough to say them out loud.

“Are you a senior, then?” he asked me, piling macaroni onto his fork. I wondered how long it had been since he had last had an actual meal, even if it was just macaroni. The look on his face as he shoved it in said it all. He closed his eyes and exhaled as if it were the best meal he’d ever eaten.

“Junior. I turned sixteen back in February.”

“You’re just a baby,” he said, grinning. “I’m turning eighteen in November.” He took another forkful. “Did you make this? It’s amazing.”

“You can tell my mom that when she gets home, I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

“Are you sure she won’t mind my being here?”

“She’ll just be happy I have a friend over for once.”

“You don’t go out much?” I shook my head.

“I don’t have anyone to go out with.”

“After tonight, you’re welcome to hang out in the passenger seat of my car anytime, if you don’t mind a ten-year-old Corolla.”

“Where in California are you headed, then?” There was another clap of thunder, and he flinched ever-so-slightly.

“Oakdale, but I’m hoping I’ll get enough to move on to San Francisco eventually.”

“What kind of job are you getting?”

“My friend knows someone who owns a ranch, so he said he’d get me a gig when I left home. It’s temporary and I’m not sure it’ll be a living wage, but he said I could probably sleep in the barn. Anything is better than coming home smelling like car oil, which was my situation back in Nashville. I’ll tell you this, working at a garage is great for pocket change, but it doesn’t get you very far else. I’ll probably try to get another job waiting or busing or something. I’m hoping a month or two will be enough to start looking for roommates, or at least to try and find a couch to crash on.”

“Don’t you have any family you can stay with?” He shook his head.

“Nope, they all cut ties when I left.”

“Do you miss them?” He shrugged, his dark eyes clouding over.

“It was hard to leave my little sister behind, but she’ll be okay, if she keeps listening to whatever bullshit my parents must have told her about me. Leaving my dog though, that was rough. She’s probably my best friend, honestly, and I would have taken her if I could. But she’s really old and wouldn’t have enjoyed hot Tennessee nights in a closed car.” His hair fell over his face and he pushed it back, tucking a strand behind his ear. It was lighter, now that it was dry. If it wasn’t for his hair, I would have thought that he was much older than he really was. His cheeky grin said seventeen, but when his face turned serious, there was an entire life behind those eyes. He’d been hardened in ways I could never comprehend. I wondered who he would have been if I had met him while he still lived at home. Then again, that boy was hiding his true self back then, I’d gathered that much. Was this Johnny in full, then? How much could you grasp about a person in a single hour from the look in their eyes or how often they smile?

“Your turn to tell me something about yourself. I wanna know if I’m dealing with a serial killer or something.” His smile had returned. “I mean, what psycho invites total strangers into their home?”

“This conversation right now is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I refuse to believe that, Fitzgerald.” I rolled my eyes at him. That name had been nothing but another reason to be bullied since I was a kid. Unfortunately, the average preteen of Nowhere, New Mexico, had not grown up surrounded by books as I had.

“Oh my God, you sound like my parents. If you wanna know the truth, the most interesting thing about me is the fact that I told someone who I thought was a friend that I would like to kiss a guy, and next thing I know, people are avoiding me like the fucking plague. Well, the nice ones anyway. The others slam my fingers in locker doors on a good day.” He looked at me curiously, which made me feel guilty. Who was I, pretending that my life was so hard when this seventeen-year-old was homeless and driving across the country all alone? If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show.

“Your friends seem pretty shitty.”

“They’re not my friends anymore.”

“I’d hope so.” He looked out the window and I followed his gaze, hoping the rain had calmed a little. It had not. If anything, it was raining harder than it had been when I had gone outside. “So you’ve never kissed a guy, then?”

“Nope.” He brought the beer bottle up to his lips.

“Good to know.”

“Have you?”

“No one my age or that I actually liked, so it doesn’t really count.” I ate my last forkful, then noticed his empty plate.

“Do you want anything else? We finished the mac and cheese but I’m sure there’s something in the fridge you can have.” He stopped me before I could stand up.

“I’m good.”

“Do you want to go get gas? You could move your car closer, and we should probably bring your bike to the porch, or else it’ll rust.” So that’s what we decided to do. Huddled together under an old umbrella, we opened the front door and sprinted to the garage, then piled into my father’s car. I switched the engine on, while Johnny fiddled with the radio stations. Rain pattered loudly against the tin roof of the Audi, though it was quickly deafened by the loud blaring of an electric guitar. Heavy metal wasn’t my usual music of choice when it came to driving through a rainstorm, but the rhythmic bobbing of Johnny’s head prevented me from switching it. I did turn it down, though.

“You don’t really look like a metalhead,” I said as I pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. His bike was still lying on the edge of the sidewalk, its handlebar basking in the rain-filled gutter.

“In my defense, in the two hours we’ve known each other, I was wearing my own clothes for a grand total of fifteen minutes, and they were my least favorites because I haven’t had a shower since Nashville.” He was right, though he looked much more clean-cut than metalheads at my school, especially considering the fact that he lived in his car. What struck me most was his hair. It was long, longer than most of the guys I knew, anyway, but not nearly as long as the kids that hung around high as a kite listening to AC/DC. Maybe he was still growing it out.

“Both are good points. What’s your favorite band, then?”

“Black Sabbath. I play the drums, actually,” he added, proudly. “Or, I used to. I couldn’t fit them in my trunk.”

“So you’re a gay, metalhead drummer who’s about to become a cowboy?”

“Yeah? What does being gay have to do with any of it?”

“You just don’t look very—”

“Go on, then. What do you do? I’ve been with guys, I think I get to be the judge.”

“What do I ‘do’?” I repeated, confused by his question.

“What music do you listen to, for starters?”

“I like the Beatles.”

“The Beatles? Wow, you’re a real rockstar.”

“I also like David Bowie.”

“You’re getting somewhere… Anything from this decade, perhaps?”I thought for a moment. I was always listening to something, but I never quite paid attention long enough to actually care about what I was listening to. I’d usually just listen to whatever station my parents had left the radio on, or the random tapes and records I’d gotten on special occasions. Sometimes it was Top 40, sometimes it was the music my parents listened to when they were my age.

“Lionel Richie, I guess?” He unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.

“That’s your gay mixtape? The Beatles, David Bowie, and Lionel Richie?”

“What is it?”

“Just not what I was expecting.” He laughed again. “Now c’mon, what do you do? Like, in your free time and stuff.”

“I don’t ‘do’ anything, really.”

“No AV club or after-school marching band?”

“I’m very confused as to what type of person you think I am.”

“Hey, I’m just offering suggestions here. You must write, at least, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re gay in New Mexico in the year of our Lord 1986, you have no friends and get beaten up seemingly often. You’re obviously not fighting back, so I’m guessing you’re putting that pent-up hatred into some warn-out composition book that makes your English teacher piss his pants.” His accuracy annoyed me. I’d never told anyone about my writing, other than my parents and Mr. Foster who kept trying to get me to send it to journals and contests, and here Johnny was, figuring it out within two hours of meeting me.

“I guess I write poetry sometimes,” I replied quietly, partially hoping he wouldn’t hear me over the music.

“Wow.” He stretched the word out and I tensed up. “I was thinking of some sarcastic essay about the state of the country. I didn’t think you were a poet.”

“I’m not a poet. I just write poetry when I’m bored.” Which was all of the time.

“That, dear, makes you a poet. Will I get to read some of this amazing poetry?” My face flushed.

“Never.”

“I’ll convince you, just you wait.”

“You’ll be gone tomorrow.” Saying it sounded strange. I knew he was only here for the night, hell, I barely even knew him. But the idea that he could leave just as he’d appeared felt wrong, for some reason.

“The night is long.”

“Not that long.”

We pulled up to the gas station and I parked just a few yards away from the entrance. I fished for my wallet, hoping I had enough for a gas tank, but before I could get it out, Johnny was already stepping out of the car.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, shutting the door. I lowered the window.

“Here, take my wallet. I’ll pay.” He stared at me in disbelief, the rain leaving specks on the shirt I’d lent him.

“I can pay for my own gas, Fitz.”

“But—”

“I’m serious. I’ve been doing this for months and I’m driving across seven states, you think I didn’t plan for this? Unless you want a world-famous New Mexico gas station corn dog, save your money and sit here.” And with that, he was off. I watched him as he walked, making no efforts to shield himself from the storm or take cover. Maybe he was one of those people who liked the rain like I did. I always thought the sun was overrated. I especially liked storms. Monsoon season was always my favorite part of the year and I found comfort in thunderclaps and lightning. When he came back out, less than ten minutes later, he was carrying about fifteen gallons worth of gas. He opened the back door and set the tanks on the backseat, then came back to the passenger’s side.

“Did you miss me?” he asked with a smirk, then looked at the radio. “Hey, did you change the station?”

“Huh?” Maybe I had. I couldn’t remember. Playing with radio dials was basically second nature for me. It was now playing a Queen song, but when I reached over to switch it back, he stopped me.

“Don’t. It’s a pretty good song.” He rolled the window back up. “It’s really raining out there.”

“Where’s your car at? We should probably go fill it up.”

“Right.” He thought for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he did so. “I think I left it by a school or something? It was like a mile away from your house. Oh, and I’d just passed a bridge.” My old elementary school.

“Roger that.” I started to drive back in the direction I’d come from.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” he asked me suddenly. I nodded.

“Someone I used to be friends with had a brother who did rodeos so we used to go to the fairs and stuff.” Andy, the very friend who’d beat me up on my way home from school less than a week after I’d told Robbie about wanting to kiss a guy. The very friend who’d told me I deserved to die of AIDS. The thought of him still made me shiver.

“You okay? You kinda checked out there.”

“What?” I hadn’t even realized he’d said something. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“I’m guessing he’s one of the so-called friends who turned on you when he learned you were gay?”

“Bingo.” We listened to the rain and the radio for the rest of the ride until we got to the long road nearing the school. He looked out the window for his car, and his face lit up when he saw it.

“There she is,” he said, pointing to a red sedan, his face lighting up. “Bought her myself.”

“Here, let me help you carry the gas.” I unlocked the back doors and picked up a tank, wishing I had taken a raincoat. The freezing water ran down my spine, and I sloshed around puddles from unfilled potholes. For someone who lived in his car, Johnny kept it surprisingly tidy. The back seat was fashioned into some makeshift bed, and the floor was covered in tapes.

“Admiring her beauty?” he asked as he fiddled with the fuel tank door.

“Sure am.” He set the now empty containers on the ground, unlocked it and opened the passenger door. I watched him dig around the glove compartment and pull something out of it. “I like what you did with the back seat.”

“Great, right? Perfect for hooking up,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m just kidding. I usually do it in their car.” This time, I didn’t know if he was joking or not, so I just laughed along awkwardly.

“Wanna hang around here for a bit or head back to my place?” He looked up to the sky, letting rain wash over his face. Thunder rumbled, followed by a flash of lightning, and made him jump.

“Definitely inside. I’ll follow your car.”

“You got it.”

When we got back to my place, I pulled the car into my garage, and Johnny dragged his bike up to my front porch. Mom was inside, putting groceries away.

“Fitz, you went out!” she exclaimed when she saw me stepping through the door. I hadn’t realized how hot it was until I was hit with the air conditioning.

“Yeah, I took your advice and met up with my friend. Actually, could he spend the night here?”

“Who is it?”

Johnny followed me over to her and she looked him up and down.

“This is my friend Johnny—” I realized I didn't know his last name.

“Carlisle,” he added with a southern twang.

“We take English together,” I lied.

“Carlisle… Do I know your mother?”

“No, ma’am. I started at the beginning of the semester and she isn’t very involved in the school.” Ma’am?

“Well of course you can, Johnny. I’m so glad Fitz is finally having friends over. Here, let me call your mother and make sure she’s okay.”.

“I’d love to, but my parents are out of the state. My cousin’s getting married so they drove home to Tennessee a few days early. I was supposed to stay at home but…” He looked over to me. “Well, I’m really afraid of thunderstorms and I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Of course you can sleep here, sweetie. You boys have fun now.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.”

“Thanks, bye Mom,” I said quickly and pulled Johnny over to my bedroom. It was hot and humid, so I turned the AC up. When the door was shut behind me, I erupted into laughter. “What was with that accent?”

“Don’t underestimate the power of southern charm,” he answered with a wink.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, she’s just happy I have a friend.”

“That’s… Incredibly sad.” I sat down on my bed, then immediately regretted it when I remembered that my clothes were wet.

“Just rub it in, why don’t you?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have that many friends either.” He paced around my room, checking out the books on my bookcase, the VHS collection on my TV and my embarrassingly small amount of records.

“Are you really afraid of thunderstorms?” I asked him as he began taking books off the shelf.

“Hm?” He looked up from my copy of Lord of the Rings. “Oh, no, that was just a lie for empathy.”

“Oh really? ‘Cause I’ve seen you jump at thunderclaps, which isn’t a regular thing after the age of, like, five.” Here he was, a seventeen-year-old jumping from job to job and living alone, yet he was afraid of something so simple.

“Hey, fuck you. Maybe I don’t like ‘em, what’s it to you?” he said defensively.

“It’s okay, we’re all scared of something. I, for one, am deathly afraid of spiders.”

He snorted. “Spiders?”

“At least spiders can actually attack me, unlike the expansion of air.”

“A spider you can squash, an angry sky you cannot,” he replied, setting my book down to look through my records. “No Kiss, or Metallica or even the Stones?”

“We had this conversation already.”

“What is—” He started to pull out a Billy Joel record I’d gotten from my parents a few Christmases ago, until his attention landed on one of my 45s. “Is this Barry Manilow?”

“What’s wrong with Barry Manilow?” He shook his head.

“What’s right with Barry Manilow? How old are you?”

“Hey, I didn’t invite you in here for you to insult my taste in music.” Still shaking his head, he took one of my albums out of its sleeve and set it on the player. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.

“My cousin was a huge Bowie fan, and she used to listen to this record on loop when I’d go over there on weekends. I know it half by heart by now. ‘Starman’ has got to be one of my favorite songs ever.”

“Really?” He nodded and sat down at the edge of my bed. “I think ‘Rebel Rebel’ is my favorite of his, but I wouldn’t want to label it my favorite ever. I don’t know enough songs.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know enough songs’?”

“Those are all the songs I know,” I replied, gesturing to the music he’d just looked through.

“You’re joking, right?” I shrugged.

“I mean, I know of a bunch of people, I just don’t know any of their songs.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this right now knowing damn well I don’t have the time or means to change it. Trust that next time I pass through New Mexico, it’ll be with Iron Maiden’s entire discography in my hands.”

“Do they grow tapes on that cattle farm of yours?” He clicked his tongue.

“I should’ve stayed in my car. At least there I get to enjoy real music.”

“Hard to sleep in a car during a storm when you’re scared of thunder, dude.”

“I’m not scared of thunder.”

“Sure.” I looked around my room for something to do. My house was never known as the fun one, especially since all I liked to do was read or write. “Hey, do you wanna drive over to the arcade? It’s either that or sitting here until dinnertime.”

“Sure, but I suck at video games.”

“Good, like that it’ll be easy for me to beat you.”

It was, in fact, not easy for me to beat him. Within ten minutes of getting to the arcade, he’d beaten me in Space Invaders twice. He also managed to beat the high score in Kung Fu Master while I struggled to make it to the Donkey Kong scoreboard. As we played, picking games that were side by side, he talked more about his life growing up and the people he hung out with before he stopped going to school. I told him about the times I’d been beaten up, pantsed and wedgied, to the point where I would take enormous detours on my way home from school in hopes of avoiding everyone.

“Why don’t you ever defend yourself?” he asked, as his ringed finger repeatedly clicked the red shooting button on Galaga. I snorted.

“Have you seen me? These guys are on the football team, or the basketball team, or the wrestling team. Trying to defend myself would just be a joke.”

“You don’t need to be strong to defend yourself. You think I didn’t get my fair share of remarks?” It made sense that he’d be ostracized too, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Especially considering the fact that he was a good three inches taller than me and more built than I was, too. “First for the way I dress and the music I listen to and the length of my hair. And then, one day, some asshole follows me after school and sees me get into this guy’s parked car. It was parked behind a bar, I didn’t think anyone would fucking see. Well, he comes up to me while I’m getting out and threatens to tell my parents and the cops. The guy I was with was married, he had kids, he was an important person in the church. A case like this would’ve ruined him, and telling my parents would’ve ruined me, too. Luckily, I had this bad boy,” he said, as his score flashed across the screen. He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. The blade glimmered under the harsh neon lighting. “I’ll tell you this, everyone turns into a little bitch with a knife to their throat. He and his friends left me alone after that.”

“So you’re telling me that the answer to my problems would be to threaten the guys who beat me up?” He shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hey, do whatever you want, but you can’t go on living like this for the next two years, and when you don’t have muscles, you need to make up for it somehow.” One question trotted my mind. Ever since I’d first seen him, there had been something calming about Johnny. But right now, seeing the knife in his hand, I realized I didn’t know him at all.

“Have you ever—uh—used it on someone?” I gulped and he laughed.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘used’, I guess,” he replied, twirling the knife around.

“Have you ever had to…” My voice trailed off.

“Are you wondering if I’ve killed someone, Fitz?”

“Not necessarily—” His laughter cut me off.

“Relax. No, I haven’t killed anyone. I have had to stab people, but that was purely in self-defense.”

“Self-defense?”

“That guy wasn’t the only guy who’s tried to come up to me. They’re usually older, though. And complete strangers. Man, people do not like gay guys.”

“That sucks, sorry…” I said quietly, not knowing what else to add. He closed the knife and shrugged, slipping it back into his pocket.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault. Hell, it sucks for you just as much as it does for me.”

“I guess…”

“That, my friend, is why we have to continue to kiss as many guys as we want, as a big fuck you to all the people who hate us.”

We bounced around from game to game for another few hours, until there were no more games to play, we were out of quarters and his name was on every leaderboard. It was still pouring when we came out, and the setting sun made it ten times darker than it had been when we went inside. Luckily, I’d parked the car near the entrance so we looked at each other, counted to three, and made a run for it. Those efforts proved to be useless, though, because I fumbled while unlocking the door, and we ended up getting drenched anyway.

Once I had parked the car in my garage, I headed towards the front door, while Johnny walked over to his car to grab his pajamas for the night and his clothes for tomorrow, despite my insisting that he could borrow some of mine and reminding him of the clothes in my dryer. He tucked his clothes under his shirt to try and keep them dry, and ran across the street to my porch.

We had barely had the time to step in before Mom ushered us to my bedroom to stop us from getting everything around us damp, and she didn’t let us into the dining room until we were dry and changed. I couldn’t remember the last time I had someone see me in my pajamas, and the fact that they were awkwardly short made me self-conscious. I was still trying to pull them down and make them not look so awkward, when I heard Johnny talking to Dad.

“Yes, sir. We moved here from Nashville this winter,” he was saying, using the same accent he’d used with Mom.

“And how old are you, son?”

“Seventeen, sir.”

“I had my hair a bit longer than yours when I was younger. I didn’t know boys still did that.”

“It’s all depending on your circle, I’d s’pose.” When I entered, Dad paid me no mind, too immersed in my new friend. I helped Mom set dishes on the table and when we took a seat, Johnny broke away from the conversation.

“The food smells amazing, ma’am. We had some of your mac and cheese for lunch, you really are an amazing cook.”

“You’re too kind, Johnny.”

“So, Johnny, you’re going to be a senior, aren’t you?” Dad asked him. He nodded. “Any college prospects?”

“My parents want me to go back to Tennessee, but I’d like to head out to California and major in business. Maybe San Francisco.” He lied with such ease, but maybe those weren’t lies. Maybe he had really dreamed of becoming a businessman before he was forced to throw those dreams away.

“That’s a good call, you’ll always have a future in business. Maybe you can help Fitzgerald with that. His mother and I keep trying to knock some sense into him. He can’t become a writer if he won’t even let his own parents read what he writes.” Johnny’s eyes jumped to me and he smirked.

“I’ve been trying to get him to show me his work for ages now, but I’m afraid he’s just too secretive.” He really was an amazing liar.

“Fitz, you’re not even letting your own friends read it?”

“Mr. Foster said they were good, I don’t need anyone else reading them,” I grumbled. I didn’t like this sudden shift towards me. “Did Johnny tell you he used to do rodeos?” I didn’t know if it was true. It probably wasn’t, but it sure was going to be entertaining to watch him wiggle himself out. Mom tutted.

“‘Used to’? How old were you? Your mother was okay with it?”

“She didn’t like it at all, but my pa got me into it when I was about five or six. I did it all: mutton busting, bulldogging, barrel racing, steer riding, calf roping, bronc and bull riding, all the way up ‘til I was fifteen or sixteen. I was real good at it, too.” Mom turned to me.

“Now don’t you go getting any ideas, you.”

“This guy?” Johnny said. “It would be amazing to get him out the door and on a horse in the first place.” I scowled, but my parents laughed.

“You’re right.” We continued our meal, listening to Dad talk about work and Mom talk about the friends she met up with, and I could see Johnny was savoring every part of it. From the food, to the conversation, to the sense of family. I’d never given my parents much thought before him, barely listening to what they droned on about and hurrying to wolf down whatever was in front of me to return to my bedroom as quickly as possible, but now, thinking about how quickly it could all change, I found myself enjoying all the fine details a little bit more. Mom insisted on taking a picture of the two of us before letting us out of the table, and she reminded him to invite his family over for dinner sometime soon.

“Did you really used to rodeo?” I asked Johnny while I helped him with the sheets in the spare bedroom. He laughed.

“No, no I did not,” he replied, shaking his head. “I used to do mutton busting or barrel racing at fairs when I was really little, but the first time I got on a bull, I was immediately thrown off and started to cry, so my dad called me a queer and I never touched one again. I did used to ride a lot, so it’s not a complete lie.”

“Oh.” I was often at a loss for words around him. “Sorry about your dad.”

He shrugged. “It happens. I mean, who hasn’t been called a queer by their father before?” He scanned my expression. “I’m guessing you haven’t.”

“My dad was a hippie until he was inevitably forced to succumb to the economic order that eats at our soul and where creativity goes to die, so calling people ‘queer’ isn’t really part of his m.o.” He snorted.

“‘Inevitably forced to succumb to the economic order that eats at our soul and where creativity goes to die’... You really are a struggling artist, aren’t you?”

“God, do I really sound that pretentious?” He nodded with a smile. “Okay, but it’s true. He had long hair and John Lennon glasses and walked around barefoot and protested against Vietnam and did LSD during the Summer of Love and wrote love letters in quill and painted my mom in watercolors. And then I came along, and suddenly they couldn’t live off of maize, weed and tea anymore so he was forced into an office job.”

“Is that why you’re a poet? To rebel against the ‘cruel’ economic order?”

“I’m not a poet.”

“So you’ve said.” We finished making his bed in silence, and, as I was fluffing up his pillows, he got up to shut the door.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I think it’s officially time for the secret-telling portion of the sleepover, so shoot,” I replied.

“Do your parents know you’re gay?”

“God, no,” I replied, a little too loudly. I repeated it quieter.

“Why not?” He sat down on one edge of his bed and I sat on the other.

“It’s too much for them to handle, especially now with all the fear going around.” That was part of the truth. The other was that I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d never felt like they needed to know before it was necessary, and deep down I held out hope that I’d meet the perfect girl some day.

“When did you realize you liked guys?”

“I think it’s my turn to ask the question, isn’t it?”

“Summer of ‘79, when Mickey Thomas kissed my cheek on the canoe at Lakeside Summer Camp,” he declared with a proud grin.

“That’s not what I wanted to ask, but thanks for the info.”

“Okay, then. Hit me.”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” The indiscernible look on his face made me nervous.

“Wow, you’re really going for it, aren’t you?”

“Well I just mean, you seem experienced and— We have twelve hours left so— You know what, forget it.” I stammered, heat rising to my cheeks. It was stupid of me to even ask that question. But it seemed like Johnny liked stupid questions, because he grinned.

“Fifteen. It was very underwhelming.”

“Who was the other guy?”

“I have no idea. He was like twenty something, and he bought me a drink. It was in a bar bathroom. I used to be excited about that type of stuff, but do it enough times, and it gets repetitive. Not to sound like a grandpa or anything, but usually I’d much prefer a good conversation.”

“‘Enough times’?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself.

“It used to be something kind of special, I guess. The first few times I did it for fun, but fun stuff stops being so fun when it becomes your meal ticket or your key to a shower and a warm bed, especially during winter.” What pained me the most about Johnny was the way he could say these things so nonchalantly. He’d become so accustomed to this life that he no longer seemed to care about any of it.

“When did you leave home?”

“A few days after Christmas. I camped out with a friend for the first weeks, hiding out in her sister’s treehouse while I kept going to school, but eventually her parents got close to catching on so I had to leave and drop out, three semesters away from graduation.” He looked at the drawn curtains, that fluttered with the gust of the AC. “But it’s my turn to ask a question. How old were you?”

“I—”

“Oh, wait, you said you’ve never kissed a guy, right?”

“I’ve had sex before,” I lied. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“With a girl.” He looked unconvinced.

“How was it?”

“Good.” I tried my best to sound confident in what I was saying, but he just laughed.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“I got to second base with Lisa Davenport in the eighth grade,” I finally admitted, albeit shamefully.

“And how was that?”

“Very uncomfortable.” I chuckled nervously. “I didn’t know where to put my hands and her lips were weirdly soft and tasted like Lipsmackers.”

“Is she the only girl you’ve kissed, then?” I shook my head no.

“I had a girlfriend all through freshman year.”

“And you’ve only gotten to second?”

“She was Christian,” I said, as if that explained it. It did, in part. It certainly helped, at least. “Every time we got close I’d mumble something about impure thoughts and she’d push me off.”

“And this was… Before you knew you were gay?”

“Basically.” He laughed again, then stopped.

“See? This is the type of conversation I was talking about, the kind that makes me laugh.”

“What can I say, I’m a great conversationalist.” I waited a moment before adding “Though I’m sure I’d be an even better lay.” His cheeks flushed pink as his smile grew.

“Why don’t you try getting to first base with an actual guy before getting too cocky.”

“Well trust that next time you see me, I’ll be a changed man.”

“Maybe, but for now you are but a boy,” he replied. I stayed in the guestroom much longer than I had intended, just talking. We moved through what seemed like months and years of friendship in a matter of minutes and hours. Through the span of a single conversation, I bared my soul to a boy I’d just met, letting him into every crevice of what made me me. I told him about my summers away at a boys’ camp where fag was thrown about more frequently than I and you, and about the boys I now thought I had loved without fully comprehending the nature of my feeling, and in exchange he told me all about his veteran father and the best friend he’d fallen for before pushing away. For the duration of our talk, I let myself believe it was the first of many. I let myself believe that we would go ride our bikes around town tomorrow, and maybe even go swimming the next day, if the weather was better. When the clock struck one, he yawned, his blinks getting slower, and I remembered the truth. He took off his ring and set it on the nightstand, I said goodnight, and pushing down the tightening of my chest, I left, clicking the light off and shutting the door behind me.

Alone in my bed, I felt like I was suffocating. I turned the AC as high as I could, tossed and turned restlessly, and kicked my comforter away. My pajamas burned my skin, but ripping them off didn’t help. Finally, I opened my window, letting the earthy petrichor float in along with a cool summer breeze and the loud pattering of rain. Only then was I able to breathe again, with my bare back against the wall. My thoughts were too loud for me to decipher, but one desire crystallized itself before me, the overwhelming desire to write. I scavenged my floor for the black-and-white spotted notebook I hadn’t touched since my last English class. It was in this book that I followed my pen to wherever it would take me. Sometimes it was a single sentence, or even a single word. Sometimes it was lines of verse. Mr. Foster was the one who first started calling it poetry. I never saw it that way. Labeling it always made it feel so official. That night, I wrote about Johnny. Johnny, who was afraid of thunderstorms. Johnny, who was forced to brave the world alone. Johnny, with the smile of a boy and the eyes of a man. Johnny, the metalhead who loved The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. Johnny, the first person who made me feel like I wasn’t disgusting. I didn’t write his name. I didn’t need to. I knew I’d remember.

Morning came along with the bleeding of sun rays into my bedroom and the observation that the rain had not stopped. It had, however, slowed. I was woken up by a soft knocking at my bedroom door. I grunted in response, and the person on the other side took it as an invitation.

“Mornin’, Fitz.” I heard his voice before I even opened my eyes. Luckily, at some point during the night, I had returned to my bed, thus successfully hiding the fact that I was completely nude.

“Hey, Johnny,” I replied sleepily, sitting up, making sure my sheets covered enough. His hair was wet and he was already dressed, wearing a sleeveless denim jacket covered in pins, over a black t-shirt. “I see you’re trying to prove you’re still metal, huh.”

“What makes you say that?” he joked, twirling around to show off his clothes.

“What time is it?” I reached over the side of my bed to where I’d dropped my pajama pants. “Give me five minutes and I can make breakfast.”

“No need, your mom already made me eat about a week’s worth of food in one sitting. You’re really lucky to have her, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I was just coming in to say goodbye before heading on my way.” His words hung in the air.

“Now?” I said weakly. He nodded.

“I’m trying to get to Southern California tonight, so that I just need to drive up to Oakdale tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” My voice came out pained and pitiful, and he rubbed his hands on his jeans.

“No can do.”

“Can you wait just—just five more minutes? I’ll be right there.”

“I still need to fix my bike back onto my car, but then I really gotta go.”

“Okay.” He nodded with a small smile, and left the room. I scrambled to find a fresh pair of underwear, and some shorts I’d started to outgrow. Then, I picked my notebook up from where I left it, and ran out to meet him, bare chested. My shirt would have to wait.

“Come to wave me off?” Johnny asked me with a grin, leaning against the side of his door, his bike mounted behind his trunk. My bare feet splashed through puddles as I marched across the street, letting rain trickle down my torso.

“Here.” I shoved the notebook into his hands, already regretting my decision. He looked at the cover and laughed, which made me wince. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the fact that it really is in a composition book. I was only kidding when I said that.” He laughed again. “‘Never reading it’, huh?” He flipped through page after page of my scrappy handwriting and doodle-filled corners. Droplets speckled the paper, making some letters bleed into one another. “Don’t you need these?”

“I have copies.” I obsessively rewrote everything onto separate sheets, that I’d stuff into my desk and never look at again.

He stopped on the last poem, the one I’d written last night when I couldn’t sleep. The one about a boy afraid of thunderstorms.

“This one about me?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. I nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“Please don’t read it in front of me,” I pleaded quietly.

“Okay, okay, I won’t…” He shut the book and looked at it again, his bare fingers tracing pen marks I’d left from doing homework on top of it. “Thank you, Fitz. Not just for the notebook, but for everything.”

“No problem, it was my pleasure.”

He played with the ripped corners of the cover, his blue eyes jumping across my face. Finally, he took a deep breath and wrapped me in a bear hug. He smelled of rain and cigarettes and motor oil. I shut my eyes tightly, trying, in vain, to stop my tears from falling. His chest heaved against mine, and he held on to me as if I were the one leaving. When he began to pull away, it was like a piece of me was being taken with him. I’d never had a friendship so dear and genuine, and here it was, crumbling before my very eyes. His hand lingering on my bicep, he kept his gaze locked on mine. Stars danced around his eyes, in constellations we hadn’t had the chance to observe. With his magnetic force, he pulled me in and kissed me. Or perhaps it was I who kissed him. Yes, it was I who kissed him. I kissed a boy who smelled of cigarettes and tasted of Minty Fresh toothpaste. And he kissed me back. Right in the middle of the street, in the middle of a storm, just yards away from my front door, where anyone could see. Let them see. I didn’t care anymore. I hadn’t fallen in love with him. I hadn’t had the time. But in that very instant, it damn sure felt like I had. We finally broke apart, both grinning through the agony.

“So, what’s your address gonna be, cowboy?” I asked, a knot forming in my throat. A tear made its way down his cheek and I instinctively wiped it away.

“I dunno, yet. I’m meeting my friend at the station and he’s supposed to take me there.”

“A phone number, then?” He shook his head and I took the notebook from his hands. I scribbled something on the very last page and handed it back. “Here’s my info, and you better fucking call.”

“Yes, sir.” His hair stuck to his forehead like it had yesterday, though now also sticking to the bandaid I’d placed right over his eyebrow. Was that really just yesterday? Had we really just met? It felt as though an eternity had passed in less than twenty-four hours. I cleared my throat.

“So this is goodbye, then?” I asked, looking at his car. He nodded and opened the door. I knew the whole time that he would be temporary, just a brief interval to the redundancy of my routine. Why, then, was it so hard to let go?

“This is goodbye,” he repeated, sliding into his seat and buckling his seatbelt.

“Be safe out there, alright?” He nodded again, this time switching on the radio.

“You know I don’t go anywhere without my knife,” he said with a grin.

“And you know that’s not a ‘yes’.” I heard the strumming guitar of a familiar tune, and slammed his door shut. “Goodbye, Johnny.”

“See you later, Fitz.” He waited a moment before adding “I’m glad I finally got to kiss someone I like.” And with those parting words, he drove off, ‘Rebel Rebel’ floating out of his rolled-down window.

Returning to my house, I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from Johnny Carlisle again. Maybe he’d lose my address, or forget to call. I stepped into the guest room to find a made up bed and his silver ring placed on top of the pillow. Maybe he’d just forgotten it, but I chose to believe he’d left it on purpose. I slipped the ring onto my index finger and stared at it. That was all that was left of him: a silver ring and an undeveloped photograph.

The second day of summer, much like every summer year after year, was worse than the first. By the second day, my hopes of the perfect summer were already destroyed, most often by trips to visit my grandparents or by the crushing loneliness that accompanied the realization that all my friends were on vacation. On this particular second day of summer, the crushing loneliness now led me once again to the living room floor, in front of the AC, counting thunderclaps and listening to David Bowie on the radio, as an open window let the smell of the storm into the room. The smell of the boy I’d kissed. Petrichor, it was called.

#first post #short story #fiction #fiction writing #80s #creative writing #my writing #original fiction #gay #lgbtq #writers on tumblr #writing #writer #writblr

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