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coeurify · 1 year ago

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LACY, OH LACY

ellie williams.

·˚ ༘ * “like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots. you got the one thing that i want."

pairing: ellie williams x f!reader. summary: you’ve got the one thing ellie wants, and it’s rotting her thoughts of you. based on lacy by olivia rodrigo. warning: my first go at true angst, but a happy ending! i took a much sadder direction with the song lol. reader is described as having a father figure. looks of reader never described beside that there’s ribbons in their hair. they/them pronouns used. for a GUTS writing challenge in writing server!

Envy was a nasty thing. Ellie knew that. Ellie knew that the way her lip curled down upon the sight of your frame disappearing into the Tipsy Bison in Jackson was unfair.

Ellie knew that the way her body tensed whenever you were followed quickly by an older man, one who grumbled and wiped at his sleepy eyes, wasn’t fair. The way she turned on her heel and walked away each time she saw you two, the pebbles under the toe of her converse being kicked away, that wasn’t fair either.

But god, did it tie her stomach in tiny little knots, ones that made it hard to swallow, hard to look away when your shining eyes met her’s across the street somedays.

Sometimes, she tries to blame it on sleep. She tells herself the angry feeling bubbling in her stomach is simply a result of the sleepless nights. Of the shaking and panting breaths that shoot from her as she awakes from another never ending nightmare.

But most days, she realizes it’s only an excuse. This sick feeling is reserved only for you, and Ellie wishes she could swallow it down like a shot, but it instead pools in her mouth, poisoning her movements, her thoughts, her everything around you.

When you smile the smile Ellie knew all too well, It only made her feel worse. It shouldn’t, really, Ellie should quirk her lips up in response, wave you over maybe. Joel would have insisted. But lately she just raised a hand in a softer, colder response before finding a new corner to escape down.

Hell, if Joel was here, if things were different, he would have tilted his chin up knowingly when Ellie’s own chin jutted down at the sight of you, her cheeks painted pink with something akin to affection, rather than the near constant shade of frighteningly pale her face seemed to be lately.

He had done so a million times.

When Ellie was only a measly sixteen, telling Joel she just couldn't let you stay the night while Joel and your old man went on a particularly long patrol.

“I barely even know them!” Ellie had fought, her arms crossed over the quickly beating heart in her chest. She knew you, she knew you liked to wear ribbon in your hair, she knew your favorite color was blue because your favorite shoes were that color, and she knew you were pretty. So fucking pretty, the kind that made her stomach turn all mushy and gross when she tried to talk to you over the semi regular shared dinners Joel and a few other older men around town had insisted upon.

Joel just shook his head, seemingly fighting back one of those chuckles that made it sound like he knew something Ellie didn’t. Ellie hated when he did that. “You know them well enough, kid.” was all Joel had responded, patting Ellie’s slumped back.

Joel did it when you coaxed Ellie out of her little garage for dinner inside of Joel’s, a few years later. He would never say anything, not when he could barely get Ellie to say hello anymore, but a look was all that was needed. Green meeting a more tired looking brown for just a split second, and Ellie knew. Joel saw right through the nervous looks Ellie threw your way, saw through how Ellie insisted on totally platonically complimenting you every time you walked through the door. Ellie’s knees were always pointed your way at the table, and Joel always saw.

“They’re pretty,” Joel said later that night, voice careful as he watched Ellie, who watched the dishes she silently cleaned off the table. “Sweet too, too sweet for a hell like this.” Joel could barely finish the words before he heard the creak of the door, before the house was quiet again.

The last time you were brought up, Ellie remembers being cold. She’s often cold now, but the night on the porch was one of the first truly cold nights in Jackson. It stung her nose while she walked outside of the Tipsy Bison, leaving a crowd of shocked faces.

She felt stupid, so stupid that it made the wind feel even icier against her skin. God, why did she have to dance with Dina? Her eyes had been settled on you all fucking night, but Dina was always a firecracker, always tugging Ellie to dance or talk loudly at the bar top. Ellie couldn’t stop heaving as she slammed the door. Did you think they were together too? Did you think Dina was leaning in to kiss her like Seth thought? Dina wasn’t. Ellie wanted to tell you that as soon as Dina’s lips came to her ear, “They’re watching, El.”

But Seth broke the dance before Ellie could. Joel only made it worse in Ellie eyes, and yet you still followed her out the building.

Of course you did.

“Ellie,” she remembers you saying so softly, as if she might break if you had raised your voice even a little. Maybe she would have, she was a fragile thing that night, something easily crushed in your hands. Hands that had been gripped by yours outside the Bar that night.

You were the only one who didn’t look at her like she had two heads after the Seth incident, after her face had gone red at the sight of Joel. Her harsh words to the older man didn’t scare you away, didn’t make you crumble her between your finger tips.

“You should talk to him.” Your breath hit her face, the only warmth in that fucking air, and ellie remembers smelling something that was just as delicate as a pastry, maybe a perfume your father found on a patrol, maybe just you.

You cared. Something Ellie had convinced herself otherwise of, something that didn’t make sense in her mind. Why did you have any worry about she and Joel? How did it concern you at all? But it did, and Ellie listened to you.

Ellie walked up that frosted porch, arms swinging nervously, searching for space on the wooden railing. Ellie let Joel join her, let him ask about you.

“You like them?” Joel’s hands cupped his coffee, his head tilted Ellie’s way.

Ellie remembers so vividly how she turned away, tucking her chin near her shoulder. “I’m so stupid.”

Ellie could see how Joel’s head shook lightly, “You ain’t. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Ellie wishes she answered him that night, wishes she would have sat back on the porch, wishes she didn’t call him an asshole. Ellie wishes a lot of things about that night. Maybe she would have hugged him, if she had known. Maybe she would have started that conversation with forgiveness, rather than a hint of it, thrown at the end of her scrambled words, swallowed by her eyes she willed not to cry.

Ellie wishes for a lot of things, but she knows it’s useless.

Just as useless as avoiding you, now.

You had worn a black ribbon in your hair, the day of Joel’s burial. You had hugged Ellie so tightly, and Ellie almost could feel the heartbeat she swore she lost.

“I’m so sorry,” you had blubbered into her solid frame, and she almost tucked her nose into the skin of your neck, almost let the scent of your perfume calm her. But she just thanked you, pulled back and wiped one of her shaking thumbs over your tear streaked face. She was wiping your tears that day, and somehow it felt like the only right thing to do.

But Ellie remembers that day for another reason. It had been the first day she noticed the sick feeling in her stomach. The first time the hue of pink that always clouded her vision around you was dusted green instead, jealousy clawing at her throat.

She hated it. She hated how she couldn’t look away from where you slumped against your father’s chest. How his hand rubbed your shaking back as his breath puffed out in cold little clouds.

She hated how it reminded her of him.

Ellie stood alone, and watched on, feeling the tightening green branches of whatever awfulness was growing in the pit of her stomach. She cursed whatever it was laying above space, she dug the ball of her feet into the freezing grass and she cursed the earth for leaving her here to have to see this.

She walked home alone that night, shrugging you off with a rather monotone, “Go home, don’t worry about me,” when your eyes met hers in the cold air. She saw how you deflated lightly, saw how your eyes dropped to the ground. It made her feel more nauseous. She swallowed her feelings, the good and the bad, and wrapped her arms around herself as she turned.

That night Ellie veered away from her garage, finding comfort instead on the old couch that sat in Joel’s living room, and she thinks it may be the quietest place she has ever heard. She wonders what you may be doing. Was the creaking of the walls all you heard in your Jackson home too? Surely you hadn’t ripped an old and faded jacket from a closet that did not belong to you to use as a makeshift blanket, like Ellie had.

No, Ellie is sure your father walked close to you all the way home, sure he pulled out the chair at the kitchen table for you and offered you dinner, she’s even sure he had managed to crack a smile from you.

Ellie goes to sleep with a sick stomach.

“You're jealous, that’s natural,” Dina told her a few weeks later, after another stint of that awful green vine rooting itself in Ellie, one that kept her from taking you up on an offer to help clean up Shimmer. The growing seed that made her shake her head at you and offer a small and untruthful, “Don’t need any help.”

Dina handed Ellie a cup of warm tea in the cold garage. Ellie wouldn’t drink it, and she also wouldn’t eat any of the meals the Jackson residents left at her doorstep. But everyone still tried.

“But I shouldn’t be,” Ellie’s voice didn’t sound like her own. It was void of any vibrancy, any spark that Ellie’s tongue usually made. It was empty, spoken coldly. cold for herself, cold for that feeling in her chest.

“You’re grieving, El, it’s ok.”

Dina pressed a kind hand to her shoulder, and despite the way Ellie poisoned you in her mind, she still found herself wishing it was yours instead.

And now, more weeks that all pressed confusingly together had passed. The flower’s outside Joel’s were covered by snow, wilted and drained of life. His house had been empty since Ellie stole some of his old clothes a week back, a jacket that embarrassingly laid on the edge of her chair as she swung open the door of her garage turned home, glancing at another container on her doormat.

It was from you, of course it was. Ellie was sure you had been sent from some sort of heaven she was far too damned to ever access. A small note held your handwriting, and Ellie leaned down, grasping the food, the warmth burning at her frozen fingers.

Maria said she didn't see you at supply day again. I think you’d like this. I remember you eating it a lot at the dinners.

ps. you’re doing great in patrols, glad you went back to them. you’re one of the best jackson has.

xx.

A strand of auburn hair fell across her cheek as her chin dipped down, eyelashes tickling her skin as they closed.

Ellie was avoiding you, you had to have known that. Jesse knew it, Dina knew it, hell, even Tommy had commented on it last time he came by. Sure, Ellie was avoiding nearly everyone still, but it was no secret she turned the corner whenever you and your old man were around.

But here you were, making her food, leaving her notes of praise, complimenting her as if you had any need to. It made Ellie’s always down pointed lip quiver for a moment. You still fucking cared. Just like always.

It didn’t feel nice, it didn’t feel like how it would’ve if she got this note months ago. Then she would’ve clapped a hand over her heated cheek, stuffed it under a notebook like a kid with a crush.

But now, it felt more like an ache. A burning in her chest that made her push the door back open and slide the container on the waiting table near her door.

She should eat it later, that would be the kind thing to do. But the little voice whispers in Ellie’s ear again, the voice that drips poison over the thankfulness blossoming in her chest, ‘You think he helped them make that?’ the voice asked.

The palm of her hand pressed to her eyes as she leaned on the doorway, “Fuck.” Ellie muttered.

She kicked the wood, “Fuck!”

Ellie slammed her already bruised fist on the cracked wood and yelped. The splitting pain broke the girl from her mini temper tantrum, and the empty hand cupped the throbbing skin, a pair of teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Surely this wasn’t a normal way to react to something so kind, something as simple as food. She didn’t have to overthink every small thing, didn’t have to let her brain flip every positive to a negative, but how does Ellie stop what she has grown so accustomed to?

Ellie’s first attempt to rid her chest of the vines that constricted her ribs was a deep breath and a squeeze of her eyes. She pretends she can smell your perfume still lingering in the air, she imagines your cheeks turned up in a smile, she wonders what color of ribbon you found this week to turn into some new hair tool, and then she exhaled.

Maybe if she thought hard enough, the vines would retreat, the ache on her bones would feel more like the silk of your touch. Maybe she can let herself care more about what you give her, kindness, food, those stupid butterflies she used to feel whenever you spoke, that set of pastel oil paints from a year ago. Rather than letting that voice remind her of all the things you could not give her, things you could not repair.

You hadn’t taken Joel from her, your old man hadn’t either. You having that.. having him, it wouldn’t make any of what Ellie was going through change. She swallowed the truth down like nails as she turned away from the garage.

When Ellie opens her eyes again, her vision seems a little more bright.

By the time Ellie winds up at the stable, she is pressed closely by Dina who tends to Japan, brushing quietly

Ellie breaks the silence first, and it surprises both when the first word from her mouth is your name.

Dina’s gaze shoots over, and Ellie can almost see the thin ice she is debating stepping on, lips parting. You were never an easy topic, and usually when El uttered the syllables of your name, Dina was in for a long and drawn out conversation she never knew truly how to maneuver, the conversation layered with every confusing feeling Ellie had for you. The guilt, the jealousy. Everything in between.

Ellie beats her to speaking again, “They left me food again today. I woke up to it.”

Dina nods slowly, eyes falling back to her horse. “That’s nice of them.”

“It is,” Ellie agrees, flexing her bruising knuckles. “Left a note too, complimenting me and shit.”

The brunette to the side of her pauses for a moment, her boots turning in lightly as she judged her next step. “If you had told me this a year ago, I think you would’ve blabbered for like.. forty minutes about how they were ‘the greatest thing ever to exist’ or convinced me it meant they were in love with you.”

The air is silent, and Dina thinks she may have overstepped.

But the vines have taken on a softer sort of squeezing on Ellie’s chest now, one that felt like the ribbon you wore.

“Yea,” she smiled lightly, and Dina stumbled a bit, maybe out of pure shock. “Yea I probably would have.”

The silence finds them again, though there’s no thickness to it, and Ellie finds her heavy shoulders just slightly less pained for a moment.

Until the stable door swings open, and Ellie watches as Dina’s head turns. She can tell from the look on her face alone, on the way she blinks a few times and glances at Ellie.

You had just walked through.

You walk by where Japan and Shimmer stood, and you smiled like you always did.

This time, Ellie’s chest only tightened lightly. She only felt the small tug of ribbon when she recognized the flannel you had pushed up to your elbows, one she had seen your father wear on patrols many times.

This time, Ellie tries to smile back. She doesn’t let that burn find her stomach, doesn’t let the voice sneer at the clothing and remind Ellie of what she did not have. This time, Ellie speaks instead.

“Thanks for the food.”

You look almost as nervous as Ellie feels. You probably didn’t expect responses by this point.

“Oh it’s no problem,” you shake your head and smile. “Hope you enjoy it.”

Ellie nods, tensing up, useless to decide where this conversation should go, where it could go.

Just as the branches begin to curl around her lungs again, Dina cuts them down with her voice.

“El and I thought about sharing it after patrol today, maybe over some shitty movie. You in?”

The auburn haired girl shoots an aimed look at Dina, but the way you light up and step closer, the way she can smell that pastry scent again, it calms her lightly.

“It’ll be fun,” Ellie offered, voice cracking toward the end.

“Yea,” you smile, toes bouncing like they did when you were excited. Toes covered by your favorite shade of blue shoes. “I’d really like that.”

When you meet Ellie’s eyes, she can see pink instead of green again for the first time.

#ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams

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fadingdaggerr · 6 months ago

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first off, omg I absolutely love your writing. You're literally my favorite author on here. Second, the pictures you choose for each one shot are *chefs kiss*

Moving on from that, I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti one shot inspired by the song "casual" by chappell roan, and with a happy ending? or the song "red wine supernova"?

I've been meaning to do it myself but I so don't have the time or motivation right now😭

and now? (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa craved you, you craved melissa. what you crave from each other seems to differ depending on the season, based on both casual and red wine supernova by chappell roan. | 6.1k

includes: angst!!, fluff, no pronouns/gender mention for r, emotionally constipated mel and r, self sabotage from r, happy ending

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (minimal), marijuana use (minimal), verbal fighting, afab reader (no mention of breasts in ref to r), smut throughout (oral, fingering, toy use, mel and r receiving), lots of praise

translations: sfigata (italian - loser), τουαλέτα (greek - restroom - pronounced too-ah-leh-tah)

note: on this episode of “sol complains about their inability to write under 4k words and then immediately writes 6k+” N E ways. the goal of this was to sort of have mel's perspective be carried by red wine supernova and reader's perspective to be more along casual. thank you for trusting me with your prompt/idea, i'm very honored <3

The moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you.

Tipsy at a housewarming party, uninterested in everyone around her, Melissa almost calls it a night. She only agreed to be here because Shauna said ‘a small get together,’ not ‘having half of Philly in the kitchen alone.’ Weaving through the room, she attempts to find someone she knows to say goodbye to, but her search is halted by yelling from the foosball table.

In the living room, Dominic is accusing someone of cheating. At foosball. Amused, she walks further into the room to watch, seeing Dominic miss the ball too many times to not be an effect of alcohol, and he groans towards the ceiling.

He angrily spins the handles he’s holding, jostling the table, “stop fucking cheating, dude!”

“I’m not fucking cheating, dude,” the other player responds, laughing through the answer. Hiking it onto her tiptoes, Melissa peeks over shoulders to see you, a little grin on your face that also drops the joint hanging from your lips.

“Bitch, yes you are!”

Without a second to even blink, you push the rods in your hands forward, hard, making the metal ends roughly hit Dom’s hip. Leaning over the table, you blow smoke towards his face with a sarcastic smile, “don’t call me a bitch. Thought you knew better, Domi?”

“Yup,” he responds through a wince, “yup, wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

Through a chuckle, you take another hit from the near-roach, eye flicking up at the sensation of being watched intently. Red hair sticks out in the crowded room, green eyes sticking out more. Subconsciously, you do a once over of her, meeting her eyes.

Voices, music, the people around you, they all faded away. All you saw was Melissa. All Melissa saw was you.

Your whole body goes on autopilot, trying to get you to her as quickly as possible. Dominic tries to get you to play another round, an attempt to redeem himself, but you wave him off, not taking your eyes off the object of your attention as you snub out the joint against the game table. It takes borderline shoving almost everyone out of your way before you finally get to her. Any thought of leaving early flies out Melissa’s brain, disappearing as you enter her orbit.

It’s all a blur from the center of the living room, to the back of it, to the locked bathroom with you on the counter. How she got here, she doesn’t know, nor care. All she can focus on is your hand gripping her hair and the taste of you on her tongue. The blessing and curse of music beating through the wall fills her ears, thankful it covers the moans coming from you for any partygoers, but angered she can barely hear them.

Melissa can’t dwell much when your thighs begin to shake around her head, the hand not in her hair was nearly clawing the wall. From the whines that she manages to hear through thigh-shaped earmuffs and bass boosts, she can tell you’re close, the bucking into her mouth quickening with the motion of her tongue. Melissa’s alternating of figure-eights and sucking on your clit is your downfall, struggling to contain the loud groan that desperately wants to rip from your throat.

Languid motions slow, making you squirm from overstimulation before you’re pulling her back up to your lips. You almost give right back in when you feel her groan against your lips, tasting yourself on her as she dominates the kiss, all teeth and tongue. She was addictive, your new drug of choice, one you don’t want to let go of soon.

Melissa leaves the party with your number in her phone, and your taste imprinted on her tongue.

—��—

Melissa can’t even wait two days before she texts you, just saying it was her, chewing her thumb as she waits for a reply. Eight minutes and three seconds later, not that she’s been silently counting or anything, her phone buzzes.

hey beautiful. was wondering when i’d hear from you.

You were at her door within a couple hours, almost running over your coworker as the workday ended.

The first month of this arrangement, this is all it is. Melissa texts you a simple Are you free tonight? and you show up at her front door, grinning as she pulls you in by the collar of your shirt. She rarely takes her time with you, immediately sucking at sensitive skin and cupping your sex through your underwear, dragging her teeth down your throat. Moans and whining coming from you only spur her on. You barely make it to the couch before her fingers are working their way inside you.

It takes weeks before you can contain yourselves enough to make it to her bedroom, though your clothes are scattered from the front door to the stairs, Melissa’s black thong caught on the bannister. An altogether miracle you even make it onto her bed.

The redhead has a damn near obsession with eating you out, bold hands holding you down as you squirm, groaning into you as you grind into her face. It’s the first and last thing she does every time, before she kisses you goodbye, all soft and sweet. The two actions are so wildly different, rough and dominating followed by gentle and caring. How could one not become a fiend for the attention only she can provide?

Another month passes, and it’s almost routine. Melissa calls, you run. Melissa says jump, you ask how high. Melissa tells you to take off your shirt, it’s off before she finishes her sentence. Melissa gets you off, you leave before you’ve even caught your breath.

The expectation of you leaving drops one night when she catches the dazed, sleepy look in your eyes one night. For the first time, she lets someone spend the night. With her arm around your waist, you speak quietly into the air, “would you wanna go on a date sometime? A real one, I mean.”

Her arm retracts from your body, turning to lay on her back, “c’mon, baby. That’s not what this is, we agreed.”

Suddenly, you’re glad she’s not pressed against you anymore, breath uneven, “yeah, yeah. You’re right. Nevermind.”

You don’t bring it up again. She doesn’t try to hold you again. Your visits include dinner and wine before she dines on you and coffee before you leave in the morning, but nothing more. It tastes bitter in your mouth.

Four months in, and you find yourself splayed across her couch with the redhead buried between your thighs, fingers making sparks roll through your core. Hard knocking broke through, both of you stare at each other with wide eyes. A second round of knocking throws you into motion, scrambling to put your jeans back on, Melissa hurriedly cleaning her fingers with her mouth. Just before she opens the door, you stop her to fix her hair, immediately turning back to throw yourself on the couch.

When Melissa opens the door, all you hear is, “took you long enough.”

“Fuck d’ya expect showing up unannounced?” Melissa matches the annoyed tone of whoever’s at the door, moving aside to let them in. Blond and tall with the same Schemmenti resting-murder face. This has to be Kristen Marie, the ‘sfigata ass sister’ Melissa mentions from time to time.

“The hell are you?” The blond looks at you, no attempt to hide the judgment behind her eyes. A quick glance to Melissa, who’s glaring back, tells you to lie. You introduce yourself only as one of Melissa’s friends, the mention of knowing Shauna, however, seems to make Kristen less defensive. A sigh of relief leaves the redhead, you hadn’t been caught. A sigh of disappointment leaves your own lips.

Weeks later, Melissa’s phone rings while you’re both chopping vegetables for dinner. She mutters an apology as she pauses your conversation, showing you the contact Mama on the screen. You pretend to zip your lips with a little grin, going back to chopping the bell peppers she tasked you with.

“Hey, Ma,” Melissa says into the phone as she puts it between her ear and shoulder, freeing her hands to chop the onion. “Nah, just making dinner. I can’t stay on long, I got company,” she bumps your hip with hers, laughing at whatever her mother says before answering, “no, weirdo, not that kind of company… I’ll ask, hold on.”

Putting her phone to her chest to cover the speaker, she asks, “my mother would like to know if you’re a complete freak?”

“Contextually, yes and no,” you say, reveling in Melissa’s bursted laughter, “but tell her no.”

“No more than I am, Ma,” she says when she brings her phone back to her ear, pinching your ass as she stifles a laugh while her mom keeps speaking. The hand around your heart has pink acrylics.

In the passing months, a change you weren’t expecting comes, and you hope that if you don’t acknowledge it, it will stay this way. An undercover Eurydice.

Most nights, Melissa barely let you get out a greeting before you were pinned against the door, lips on your, hands roaming under your shirt. Some nights she was slow, gentle, loving almost, taking her time and kissing every inch of you. Those nights made it hard to separate the feelings you have from the ones she dances around talking about.

There are other days though, your favorite days. Ones like tonight, where both of you are exhausted and just want to no longer exist to the world. Instead, you feel as though you’re in your own world out here on her back porch. You peek over at Melissa as you take a hit from a joint you packed before driving over, eyes closed, Melissa doesn’t see you.

Watching closer than you should, your eyes stay on her as she moves to take a sip of the Cabarnet you bought only for her. The way her lips kiss the glass, how she licks her lips to never waste a drop. If she asked, you’d gladly kiss away rogue droplets of wine. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. She knows it, but she doesn’t really believe it, always rolling her eyes when you mumble it against her thighs. You wish you could tell her whenever the thought crossed your mind, every time you look at her. Exhaling, you turn away, mouthing a silent fuck to yourself. Bringing the J to your lips, you try to keep from being caught.

Melissa’s head drops, propping her chin on her shoulder with droopy eyes, “can we just sleep tonight? ��M slipping into a coma over here.”

You chuckle, copying her pose, rose-tinted eyes flitting over her, “sounds great.”

For the first time in five months, Melissa holds you as you both fall asleep in the center of the bed.

You love these nights, ones where you can pretend Melissa is just as much yours as you are hers.

A cruel, ten month anniversary gift of sorts comes in the form of a friend in the hospital cafeteria.

Your phone pings where it sits in your scrub shirt pocket, your chest tightens.

Melissa: I’ll be home around 6, if you’re free tonight.

The grin on your face is not unnoticed by your friend as she sits back in front of you. Shauna taps the table to get your attention, “that your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” you mumble, typing out a reply to Melissa.

when am i not free for you?

Shauna scoffs, speaking under her breath, “like you actually think that.”

You place your phone back on the table with a little force, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s just using you, honey,” Shauna blurts, “you’re at her beck and call, and all she wants is sex. And I know you, that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want, oh wise one?”

“Her,” she replies. “I’ve known you too long to not know that you’re in love with her. I’ve also known Mel long enough to say that she is going to break your heart.”

You kiss your teeth, “what do you know about what Melissa wants?”

Shauna doesn’t appreciate your defensive attitude, so she gives you the hard truth, “she said this whole thing is just casual. Pretty stress relief, I think were her exact words.”

You are stress relief, nothing more. Another ping.

Melissa: See you then baby.

—☽—

When you arrive on Melissa’s doorstep, you desperately want to turn and run, save yourself before you feel any more. The equally desperate need to be near her knocks for you, but when she answers, you can barely meet her gaze. Green eyes flick from your face to your wringing hands, pink lips shifting to a frown.

“What’s bothering you?” Melissa asks gently, locking the door behind you. When you shake your head, struggling to kick your shoe off, her arms wrap around your waist, chin on your shoulder. She feels you stiffen, pouting to herself, “I know something’s wrong, you look like Eeyore in torrential downpour.”

You huff a laugh and lean against her, “just… stress.”

“Hmm,” glossy lips press to your neck, soft and slow, “want me to get rid of some of that?” The feeling of her hands on you is so convincing, it overrides what you know you should do. Turning in her arms, you press your lips into her and let her take control.

Her mouth wraps around your nipple, thumb slowly torturing your clit as her fingers work you through your third orgasm. From the twitch of your hips, she knows you’re at your limit, carefully removing her fingers from you. Greedy hands tug at her, pulling her to your lips as you flip your bodies, straddling her hips. Traveling down, you delight in her whimpers as you suck at her skin, leaving behind marks comparable to the wine she loves.

Your hands spread her legs, taking your rightful place between them. Sensual, slow, loving kisses down her soft stomach, all leading to where she needs you most. Her hips buck as you get closer to her center, breath tickling her pearl. With a flat tongue, you fulfill her wish, licking a stripe from the base of her slit to her clit, moaning into her. Hands harshly grip your hair, tugging when you suck on her clit. Your own hand slides from her strong thigh to her plush breasts, toying with her nipples as you devour her.

Husky pants draw from her throat, pitchy whines breaking through when your fingers begin to toy with her entrance. Neither of you care about the phone ringing from the nightstand. All you can hear is hoarse moans of oh god and please, faster, all you feel, taste, and smell, is Melissa. You both peer to the nightstand when it rings again, desperately trying to ignore it. A second finger enters Melissa as her attention falls back on you, her eyes meeting yours as she moans, fueling your desire.

A third ringing of the phone almost makes her scream, and tapping your shoulder with vigor to stop you before the phone is forced to ring again. You quickly, and gently, retract your fingers, allowing Melissa to shakily reach for her phone. The blood drains from her face as she looks at the screen, staring at you where you rest on her thigh, answering with a gulp.

“H-” she clears her throat, “hey, ma.” Your eyes almost bulge from your head. “I was in the middle of a shower, sorry,” she gets out quickly, nearly laughing at herself and you purse your lips to contain your own giggle, “well, the kids had a project with glitter, had to get it off.”

“Get something off,” you mumble quietly, pressing a kiss to the junction of her hip. Melissa playfully smacks your arm as she listens to her mother, pressing her finger to her grinning lips.

“Well, I got a friend over right now…” Friend. “Yes, the freak,” she chuckles warmly, patting your hand before her hand freezes on yours, “oh- I… can ask.” Her eyes leave her lap, now looking to you, “wanna go get dinner at Cirillo’s? My parent’s treat.”

Your eyebrows rise, “do you… want me to go?” You’ve met Kristen Marie, and only quickly ran into her cousin Vinny, but her parents were a whole other story.

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” it feels genuine. You nod.

Arturo and Giorgia Schemmenti are exactly who would expect Melissa’s parents to be. Giorgia shares suspicion openly on her face, Arturo, on the other hand, has a resting smile. You think in the moment, you’ve got them figured out, but the way they unblinkingly look when you speak terrifies you, as if they’re analyzing every breath you take and every twitch of your hand. Silent prayers from both you and Melissa ask they don’t realize you were forced to wear one of her shirts, having arrived to her place in an ancient sweatshirt from your backseat.

You answer every question they ask you, although confused on the need to grill you so closely. What do you do for work? How many siblings? Ever gotten a speeding ticket? How’s your relationship with your parents? Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Thoughts on Reagan? Ever cheated on one of your past partners? MRI technician, sir. Two brothers. Twice, one on my way to school, one on my way to the hospital for my grandmother. Not great, I guess? No, ma’am, I get tested every two months. Hope he’s in hell. No, God, no.

“Lord, you two, let up. We haven’t even gotten the tzatziki yet,” Melissa says, laying the drinks menu down on the table.

“Just trynna get to know your friend, Meli,” Arturo turns his attention to you, “swear, all the girl does is talk about you, and I still know nothing.” The ringed hand at the edge of the table clenches, knuckles white.

You just shrug, “afraid I’m not that interesting.” I’m just a friend.

You miss how Melissa looks at you, brows turned up as she glimpses your sad smile. However, you feel a warm hand go to your thigh, squeezing gently. When her parents' attention diverts to a large party walking in, she whispers in your ear, “I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that, you’re very interesting. Should know, I’ve studied every inch of you for hours.”

It takes a deep breath and every ounce of strength to not wiggle in your seat. Reprieve comes in the shape of a definitely stoned server, lucky bastard, and reprieve is taken away when he tells you that food may be a little delayed due to the rush. Melissa’s parents nod with understanding, you nod with fear bubbling. A delay means longer here, with Melissa’s hand on your thigh with her parents speaking about everything and nothing from across the table.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus with Melissa’s fingers drawing little patterns over your jeans, skin burning beneath her touch. Peering over at her, you can see an almost-hidden mark from early, the easy smile on her lips as she talks to her dad, she’s perfect in your eyes. In this lighting, it’s hard to look away from her, orange-hued lights making her look golden.

Rising from your chair, you just give a quiet, “I’ll be right back.” You turn to walk towards the restrooms, desperate for space away from judging hazel and green eyes across the table. Melissa watches your direction, excusing herself too, following where you disappeared under the sign reading τουαλέτα.

In the short hallway, she grabs your wrist before you enter the door, pulling you to the family room to the right. Locking the door, she places her hands on your hips, “are they freaking you out? I’ll tell them to knock it off, or we can go, say you’re on call or something.”

“No,” you say, place your palms against her shoulders, “it’s just overwhelming, all the questions, your dad asking for my credit score, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” she chuckles, hands dipping to your ass.

You shiver from her touch, leaning into her, “it’s a good score, though.”

“It is,” you barely hear her words as she presses her lips to yours, all the energy from earlier still running through her veins. Your hands slide down her arms to her hips, pushing her back towards the sink. We’ve been here before.

Hopping up, she settles against the porcelain and opens her legs to let you stand between them. Keeping your lips on hers, you quickly unbutton her jeans, forcing the zipping down. You know her like the back of your hand at this point, know how to touch her to make her writhe and release around your fingers, you’re utterly devoted to her pleasure.

The previously ruined orgasm comes back quickly with full force, her clenching around you quickly. Her lips leave yours, shoving her face into your shoulder to mute her moans. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, you circle your thumb over her clit and whisper, “God, you are so beautiful. C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

Teeth chomp into your shoulder as her writhing becomes erratic against your hand before slowing as she relaxes against you. Her breathing evens out, quicker than you expect, her face becoming unreadable as it lifts from its hiding place. Surprisingly, she stays silently leaned against you as you wash your hands, letting you fix her hair before you fix your own.

Arturo and Giorgia seemingly notice nothing, believing the excuse of a busy line, one visible from your seats. If they don’t believe you, they don’t give anything away, though their questions ease up once the food comes. It must be a Schemmenti thing to be quiet for the first few bites of food, taking in every flavor. It’s endearing.

Both Schemmenti’s hug you, to even more surprise, telling you how delightful it was to put a face to a commonly brought up name. Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose before hugging her mother, mumbling something to the woman before embracing her father.

The entire drive back to her house, you can’t find it in you to speak, too lost in thought. Melissa talks about you, often, often enough that her parents wanted to meet you. Why would they question you so much, especially if you’re just their daughter’s friend? Wanting to know about your ‘past’ relationships, as opposed to what, your… current one? It hits you embarrassingly late, as Melissa pulls into the driveway: her parents think she’s talking about you because she’s dating you, and think she just hasn’t officially told them. All you can do is turn and look at her, bewildered.

Hand on the key in the ignition, Melissa turns and looks at you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m exha- What?” When she doesn’t get an answer, her face screws with worry, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, you scan over her face, “you talk about me to your parents.”

“Well I’m with you a lot, it's natural to talk about you,” she says like it’s obvious, turning off the car.

“Enough that your parents wanted to meet me, know about my family and dating history?”

Her face hardens, and you wish you’d never spoken, her voice demands respect “well, they got the wrong idea. Being nosy is in their blood, being right isn’t.”

“Okay,” you’re exasperated.

“You and I, this isn’t a relationship, no expectations, no attachments. Just good, old-fashioned sex between friends,” Melissa says slowly, brow raised, “capisce?”

“Yeah…Capisce,” you say, stepping out of the car, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Melissa says, realizing you aren’t behind her as she goes to the front door.

You turn and face her, standing in the open car door, “I’m going home. You want no attachments, I can’t give that to you anymore.”

She steps down from the bottom step, “Baby-”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be in something you don’t want, you want casual, Melissa. Stress relief,” her eyes dart to you at the wording, your eyes look down to your feet, “what I feel for you, it’s beyond that, beyond what you want me to feel.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gets closer, hand reaching for you, but you brush her off.

“I’m all you want until I want you.” When she doesn’t reply, you sit and close the door, pulling out of the driveway with Melissa staring where you’d stood.

—☽—

Two weeks of radio silence. This is the longest in the near year you’ve spent with Melissa where you haven’t seen one another. Last time it was four days after you brought up a date for the second time, six days before that when she found out that Kristen Marie called you when she was drunk and needed a ride home from God-knows-where, begging you to not tell Melissa, accidentally blurting it herself.

You wish you didn’t miss her, her laugh, the smell of eucalyptus shampoo, her touch, her eyes, her hands, her smile, her little dance when she takes food out of the oven. She was all that surrounded you for so long, it’s all you know. It feels wrong to be without her, but it hurts to think about her. Salt entered the wound when Shauna dared to mention Melissa going on a date with some vending machine guy, immediate regret when you got up and left soon after. You're thankful to not hear of him again.

Another week passes, and as a month gets closer to passing, the hole in your chest has yet to heal over. Your phone buzzes next to you where you blankly watch the documentary that was playing.

From Shauna: i fucked up. apologies to ur door in advance

To Shauna: thank u for the context

From Shauna: i poked the ginger bear

From Shauna: by poked i mean chewed out

To Shauna: again, i fear the context has yet to appear

From Shauna: yelled at ur ex-mommy for treating you like a toy from spencers

To Shauna: i’ll pass on your apology to my door in my will

Comedic timing is a very real thing, hard knocking on your door, clearly both fists meeting the wood.

Ripping the door open, you stare down a tired-eyed, yet irate, Melissa, “unnecessary. I have a buzzer.”

“And I have a Cost-Co card,” she says, pushing her way into your home.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands on her hips, she turns and faces you, “your- I’d say our, but not right now- your friend just chewed me a new one about leading you on. Leading you on?! As if we didn’t have an arrangement, no feelings, just sex.”

“An agreement that I ended! Because I got feelings! It wasn’t just sex for me, it stopped being just sex a long time ago,” you never thought you’d be raising your voice at her like this, “I tried to tell you, all those dates I offered, everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant all of it. And what do I get? No, baby, we’re casual. So, I tapped out.”

“Because we were casual! There’s supposed to be no feelings here!”

“Then how’s that vending machine guy, huh? He’s been having conversations with just your tits for months, and he got a date, but where is he now?” She flounders. “Did you take him home? Or try?” She nods imperceptibly. “I would bet my whole life savings on the fact he probably couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you cum. How right am I?”

Her lips tremble, “that’s not the point.”

“Just a question, needs an answer.” Melissa shakes her head, confirming your suspicions. “Why are you actually here, Melissa?”

Emerald eyes look into yours, emotion swirling through them as she asks quietly, “do you still have feelings for me?”

You won’t lie, you never can with her, “haven’t wavered once.”

Carefully, Melissa steps slowly into your space, hands coming to your sides, “I’m stupid. So fucking stupid. I thought all I wanted was sex, but when you left and I tried to just make myself… move on. It didn’t feel the same, being alone doesn’t feel the same. It’s so stupid and cliché and stupid that it took you leaving me to realize… Fuck, I feel like a Jane Austen character.”

Weary hands rise to her face, holding her with a special reverence, “I need to hear you say it.” The magnetic pull between you brings you into her, lips only an inch from her own.

Fingers grip your shirt, “I… I love you. I have since you told the Jehovah’s Witnesses to eat a bag of locusts and ass on Christmas Eve.”

The little smile that plays on her lips, clearly picturing the memory, it heals something in you. Brushing your lips against hers, you mumble, “I love you, too. ”

The kiss she presses to your lips is so different from any other you’d shared, but the desperation brings you back to that first night in the bathroom. Tongues graze, and a fire is ignited. Spinning her, you walk her back towards your bedroom, a place she’s only been twice in the last year.

Falling as her knees hit the bed, she takes you with her, and you gladly take your place. Just as the last time you were with her, you straddle her waist, continuing to kiss her with all the emotion you can express. Ringed fingers tug at your shirt, begging for contact. You don’t deny her, nor yourself, pulling her shirt off of her after yours, both lost on the floor. Jeans fly to meet them soon after.

Lips, tongue, and teeth clash as you fall into the feeling of each other’s skin. Moving down, you nip at her neck, sucking roughly on her pulse point to leave a mark. You continue your mission down her chest, leaving red splotches across her breasts. Always so sensitive, Melissa arches into your affections, groaning when your tongue swirls around her nipple, leaving a string of saliva that connects you to it as you pull away.

Shifting lower and lower, giving her abdomen attention, soft kisses trailing down. Your lips trail over silvery stretch marks, following as they lead you to her plush thighs. Teeth wrap around the waistband of her thong, eyes glancing to her as a silent request of permission.

“Please, baby,” her voice airy and whiny as she basks in the affection you so readily give her.

Pulling down her thong, tossing it to the side, your eyes fall to her pussy. Lips blooming in arousal, clit swollen, begging for a touch it hasn’t received in too long. You press a gentle kiss to her pearl, hearing another whine pass her lips, hips bucking slightly for you.

How you missed her. Your tongue licks up her slit, gathering the wetness that accumulated there, dancing up around her clit. A divine taste so feminine, so uniquely Melissa, you moan into her as you grip her thighs, working your tongue into her opening. Dusty purple nails dig into your hand, and you flip your wrist to interlock your fingers, feeling her squeeze tightly.

Your tongue leaves her, much to her dismay. Blown out eyes follow your reach to the nightstand, a clear bottle of lube procured. Your lips press to hers again as you spread the lube across your fingers and lower your hand to her entrance, replacing the contact of your tongue. Throaty moans leave her lips, more, please. Slowly, your ring finger joins the middle, allowing her a moment to adjust before quickening your motions, moaning yourself at the feeling of her cunt gripping your fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say against her lips, “so beautiful.” Teeth pull at her bottom lip, making her groan into your mouth, kiss going sloppy.

“I- oh- I love you,” Melissa answers through a moan, grinding against your thumb on her sensitive bud. A particular curl of your fingers makes her silently scream, soothed by your gentle mouthing of her neck.

Your index finger lines with her slit, “can you take more?”

She nods quickly, forcing your lips back to hers as a third finger stretches slowly, moans turning squeaky. All you can hear is the airy moans and the wetness of her pussy taking your fingers, sparking a warmth in your lower stomach. You can feel how close she is, how her walls refuse to let go, how her eyes flutter as they roll back.

In a sudden moment, your fingers stop, pulling from her. Her head snaps up, eyes immediately on you, “what are you doing?” God, the glassy look in your eyes almost breaks your heart.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to her chest. Leaning over to the nightstand again, still straddling Melissa’s waist as her hands hold yours, you blindly reach into the drawer, searching for a familiar object. Finding the small, flat toy, you sit back against her, holding it to her eye level. Catching your drift, she nods, legs widening as she sits up slightly against the headboard.

Pressing the vibrator against her thigh, you turn it to the middle setting, feeling her jump a little at the sensation. Slowly, you slide it closer to her clit, using your free hand to slide one of her legs till it’s propped up. Lowering yourself, you press your clit against the top of the toy, keeping it pressed between your heat and hers, both of you moaning in unison.

Rolling your hips, a breathless moan leaves you, ducking your head as your eyes close in ecstasy. Sharp nails dig into your ass, pulling you down further, moans crescendoing. It feels like you’re too far from her, immediately dropping to press your lips to hers in open-mouthed kisses, whining against her lips as she holds you to her. Using her thigh for leverage, you use your own leg to press harder to her cunt, rolling against her in a way that forces her teeth into your shoulder.

The strong vibration against your clit and Melissa’s presence alone has you holding on by a thread, and from the way the redhead is holding onto you, you know she is too. Putting your weight fully on your right hand, your left grabs Melissa’s, tangling your fingers together. Her lips move languidly across yours, tongue dancing with yours rather than fighting for dominance, something she never did before. The emotions of it all and the coil snapping in your stomach, your forehead drops to her shoulder, panting as you feel your climax approach.

“Baby, ple-oh-please,” the hand creating crescent-shaped dents in your back shifts to your hair.

“I gotchu, let go for me,” your teeth tug at her earlobe, “cum for me, beautiful.”

A final, hard roll of your hips sets you both alight, moaning as you cum in tandem.

Both of you squirm as the toy works against you still. Lifting off her, you remove the toy from its place against her, turning it off and placing it on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Lowering yourself, you come face to face with her pussy, swollen and wet and beautiful. With gentle strokes, you lick her clean, taking your time to savor her taste.

Melissa’s husky moans spur you on, lapping up to her sensitive clit. Barely suckling on the nub has her tensing again, her grip on you doesn’t let you go far, not that you were planning on it regardless. She cums on your tongue, giving you a taste once more. Sweet decadence.

Easing your way back up with loving kisses up her body, laying on your side next to her, chest to chest. Your legs stay tangled together, no space exists between you.

The hand not in hers rises to her face, pushing loose, wild hair away, caressing her cheek. Melissa turns her head to press a kiss to your thumb, her own hand coming to your wrist.

“I love you,” she says, “I really, really do.”

You stroke her cheek again, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you how I did,” her eyes water, “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time you want with me to make it up to me,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She smiles weakly, “I want all the time with you.”

Your lips press to her lips this time, “then that’s what you get.” Leaning across you, Melissa puts herself on your lap, her favorite place to sit. Face hovering above yours for only a moment, she tucks herself into the crook of your neck, keeping her weight on top of you.

Sticky with sweat, the scent of sex around you, the tracing of nails up and down your sides, dancing over your ribs. Nothing has changed and everything has. You have always been Melissa’s, she has always been yours, now you finally have each other. Warm breath over your neck evens out, the lost sleep and recently lost energy catching up to her. You, however, you are invigorated.

For the first time in a year, you get to hold your Melissa.

kudos to anyone that can find all the song references and the singular lisa ann reference that is so small u will miss it

as towa bird says: scissor your friends!

feed back appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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pumpkin-cake · 3 months ago

Note

hi this request isn’t for S4 i hope that’s ok!

but takes place in s2 where five strands everyone?

his spouse gets stranded a year and a bit before he gets there

and they made a career for themselves as a singer? maybe they have some sort of siren power or they are just naturally talented !?

but he finds them on a billboard or something that says where they will be performing next and they have a reunion where the reader has a love hate reaction to seeing him?!

sorry if this is a lot!!!

totally okay! i like all the other seasons better than 4 anyway lmao- this is actually an idea i have for my upcoming reboot of a five story i'd written, so i'm excited to sort of test it out! this turned out a bit more fem reader coded, but no she/her pronouns are used last i checked.

also my swiftie is coming out for this story, sorry to all you non-swifties ;-;

divider credited to @cafekitsune (lmk if you'd like me to remove it or anything of the sort!)

warnings: taylor swift (i love her actually but some people don't so)

The last thing you remembered was holding hands tightly with Five, and then he was ripped from your grasp, and you were falling ass first into an alleyway. Where did he go? Where were the others?

"Five..?!" You cried, hurrying out of the alleyway and bumping into somebody, who glared at you and walked off. You looked around and spotted a newspaper box, and you were over there before you could think. Your eyes scanned the paper. Year, year, what year was it?!

1960.

The sixties?! What the fuck?! All you could do was drop the newspaper to the floor, collapsing against the building wall beside you. You were the only one there. Some of your found-family wasn't even here yet, you'd imagine. There had to be some kind of time frame. You felt bad for whoever was put the farthest. Were you put the furthest in the past? What if you were super old by the time you found everyone again?! Well, you are already old, but what if you looked like it?!

All you could do was wait. You knew Five, he'd stop at nothing to save you and his family.

Unfortunately, there wasn't exactly anywhere to go. You looked pretty young and had no identification. You were wearing strange clothes, you didn't fit in. This felt like the apocalypse in a way, loads better obviously, but being alone? The worst feeling.

You had to stealth around, stealing and pilfering where you could. Sitting in alleys in the rain, starving. That was until you were dumpster diving behind some sort of bar. The heavy door creaked open and you froze inside the green box.

"Them damn raccoons again." A heavy southern accent was muffled to you, but you could tell it was a woman. You heard heels clicking on the ground and the dumpster opened and a broom whacked you in the head.

"Ouch!!!"

"Oh my heavens, yer a person!!!" The woman exclaimed, dropping the broom with a clatter. She reached over and helped you out of the trash, her nose crinkling. The woman was wearing a scantily clad flapper dress, a cute headpiece adorning her blonde hair. "What're ya doin' inside the trash, sweetie?" She asked with worry, brushing some garbage off you like it was nothing.

"Uh...I'm so sorry, I can go." You apologized, ready to get out before she called the cops like everyone else.

"Oh no, baby, no. Here, you come in, we'll getcha somethin' to eat." She assured you, ushering you inside. Some other women (and some men) that were dressed similarly didn't seem to mind. "Most of us here, came from poor too, we'll take ya in." She smiled, taking you to the back and providing you with a meal.

"Thank you...." You said, completely shocked at her kindess.

"Oh! Right, my name's Jess, nice to meetcha." She cooed politely, and you gave her your name through bites of food, making her giggle. "Tell me, sweetie, can ya sing? Dance? Anything of the sort?"

You paused. A golden opportunity was just presented to you. 1960. Some of your favorite artists haven't even been born yet. Not to mention your power dealt with your voice, similar to Allison's. You were frequently named The Siren in Umbrella Academy material. And, you didn't have any stigma to using it like Allison did.

"I write songs." You blurted, and a wide smile came across her face.

"Do ya?! Oh, you'll have to show Bruce then. He's the owner of the place." She hummed, and soon you were cleaned up and sitting in a private room on a nice sofa with a guitar in front of a sleazy looking man who looked like he'd run some kind of club with sexy women around to exploit.

"Alright, sweetheart. Show me whatcha got." He said, a fat cigar between his greasy looking fingers.

You took a deep breath. "Um...so...this song is called...." Shit, you had to think. You didn't have much time to come up with the song to sing. You had to pick a song that was popular in the modern era, maybe it would be good here too? But maybe you should stick to country. You were in Dallas, Texas after all. Not to mention you'd need to change some words if needed.

"C'mon, don't have all day." Bruce took a puff of his cigar, blowing the smoke into your face.

"Um. It's called...Mean." You blurted, and began to strum the guitar. Taylor Swift had been a hit as a country singer, this was a good idea in your mind. You were careful to control your power, and also make it believable. A southern accent and changing the word 'football' into 'baseball'.

As you sang, Bruce stopped focusing on his cigar and was completely focused on you and the shitty guitar you managed to make sound so good.

You finished the song and had a job immediately, with a small lie that you were 18. No liquor, but you could have beer! Thus began your career in that small club, becoming friends with the women who worked there. Soon enough you had the money for a small apartment. You despised the creepy looks men at the club gave you. All you could think of to continue was Five. He'd find you, right? Surely!

But after years? It was tiring. Dancing in sexy outfits in front of men with cigars, smoke and alcohol filling the air. The harsh lights on you while you had to make acoustic country covers of Taylor Swift songs. The more sexual songs like 'Dress' and 'Don't Blame Me' were your least favorite. You'd just have to withstand it. For days. And days. And days. And weeks. And years.

Five crashed into Dallas after witnessing the second apocalypse, with his hand empty. He forgot which sibling he'd been holding onto, but he knew he had you in his other hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He had hissed to himself, looking around and calling your name desperately. He'd never admit how panicked he currently was, and composed himself immediately upon the meeting of Elliott, some weird nerd.

"Alright, before I do anything." Five walked up to the man, looking up at him with fierceness. "Do you know anything at all about someone by the name of (Y/n) (L/n)." It was more a demand than a question. "If I find out you've been lying, I'll kill you." He threatened.

Elliott cracked immediately, telling Five he'd seen a billboard of that name recently. He didn't listen to music much, but their name was everywhere. Five was instantly gone, and was amazed to see your face on a huge billboard. You? A star? Not that you weren't talented, you absolutely were! You just weren't that kind of person. He asked around and found the club, teleporting in without an issue.

Ordering a drink, he sat as close to the stage as possible. A sleazy man you would absolutely despise walked out with a grin, golden teeth shining under the light as he began to speak. About you. Five clenched the glass of whiskey in his hand. This asshole looked so smug. Like you were his property.

Then you walked out with a shining silver guitar. He felt his breath leave him. "My God..." he hissed under his breath. You were gorgeous. He wasn't a fan of the makeup on your face, red lips and such. But you were glowing, looking so confident in yourself. You started singing 'You Belong With Me' by Taylor Swift, and he understood the situation quick. The folks around were immediately entranced, and it made him sick. You were using your power to reel them in, keep you popular and making money.

Your eyes met his and you faltered for just a moment, but no one else noticed as you kept singing. After the song was over, you gave him a look and walked backstage. Within seconds he was back there, so relieved to finally see you again.

"A singer, huh?" He said with a lopsided smile nobody else in his family got to see. "Not what I expected."

Your face dropped a tad, tears filling your eyes. "That's all you have to say to me?" You asked, and Five panicked. He hurried over and very gently held your face.

"No no, sweetheart, I'm sorry if that came off wrong. I'm so glad to see you." He quickly said, letting you fall into him for an embrace. "How long was I gone for?"

"Three years." You murmured, and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, I'm here now. You looked really good up there." He said softly. He decided to not tell you about the upcoming apocalypse. At least, not yet. When everyone was together.

"Thanks." You said with a weak smile, not at all letting go. Last time you let go, you were without him for 3 years. You didn't ever want to let go again.

fuck im sorry that ending was so rushed, but if it wasn't i wouldn't have had this out

#gn!reader #x reader #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy season 2

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mochinomnoms · 7 months ago

Text

Shrimpy Chronicles: Ama and the Sun

Octopolycue x Shrimpmer!Reader (Main: Azul x Reader)

Synposis:

"Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light. And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her fathers and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin. She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting. Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun." or Your daughter notices that you yearn for the sun and the surface more than her other parents do, and learns why.

Takes place after "Mating Season", different timeline from "The Delights of being a 'Zuzu'". Neither are necessarily needed to understand the story, but are helpful for some context.

[wc} - 1,818

[cw/tags] - gn!reader, reader is referred to Ama but has they/them pronouns, mild angst, has a happy ending, in daughter's p.o.v., Jade and Floyd mentioned but not seen in story (implied poly!octotrio x reader), Azul is referred to Baba/Zuzu, reader comes from a happy family in their world, i also didn't edit lol

[notes] - I wanted to write something very simple for coming off my hiatus! I have a lot of strong thoughts about preserving something like my culture and language. I imagine that for a Yuu with a strong family bond, having to accept that they can't go home and lose not only their family, but their culture and language, is quite devestating. For people in our world that have to leave their homes to go somewhere else, sometimes they forget bits of that and want to make sure that their kids know and love where they come from out of desperation to maintain that connection. I wanted to write a little something about that, hope yall like it!

Written while listening to "Shelter" by Porter Robinson and Madeon, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

There was something about the warmth of the sun that Coral was drawn to. She wasn’t sure why, her sister, Pearl, didn’t have the same inclination, nor did her fathers. Her Baba Zuzu might’ve been an exception, but he also was perfectly fine to stay in the dark, cold depths of their home.

But Coral was like her Ama. They shared a lot of similar traits, like their shrimp merforms and the color of their skin. The strand along her bangs even matched the color of Ama’s hair, pretty stark against the rest of Coral’s teal hair. Though, her twin Pearl also had the same strand, just on her opposite side.

But still, Coral was Ama’s baby girl. Coral never said it to anyone other than Pearl, but Ama was her favorite parent. And Ama?

Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light. Sometimes, when Ama thought no one was looking, they would gaze out the window and stare at the sunlight filtering through the water, making green and blue streaks glitter during the day.

And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her papas and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin.

Coral tried to copy them once. She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting.

Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. But Coral could see the wet look in their eyes. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun.

Coral did her best to make sure they’d never be alone, always going with them to the surface. It was a bonus for Coral too, she got to see her Grandpa Divus and his doggies. Most of the time, though, it was her Goddads Ace and Deuce. They were okay too.

This time, her Ama and Zuzu were up on the surface to warm up a bit before diving back down after visiting Grandpa Divus. Though, Zuzu still stayed mostly in the water. He rested his arms and chin on the rock while Ama was laying on their back, arms spread and eyes closed as they basked in the sun.

Coral had taken to hanging on one of Zuzu’s tentacles picking at the skin with her shrimp legs, trying to mimic Ama when they were cleaning her Papa and Dada, though she was starting to fall asleep.

The warm sun always made her sleepy, and Zuzu’s scratching at her scalp wasn’t helping along with his tentacle rocking her back and forth. But the low voice of Zuzu speaking to Ama caught her attention.

“You’re going to dry out if you stay too long up here.” He was whispering, like he didn’t want to wake Coral up. So she kept her eyes closed and listened, her earfins wiggling a bit.

“Mmh.” Ama hummed in response. “It’s fine, just for a bit.”

“A bit has been for almost 30 minutes.” Zuzu sighed, harsher this time. “Please, my dear, come back in the water. Coral’s fallen asleep, we should take her back home.”

“Just a bit longer Azul…please…” Ama sounded sad, the way they sighed. Coral could make out the sound of movement. Maybe Ama turned on their stomach?

“I just need this, okay? The sun and the air.” Coral peaked an eye open up at Ama and Zuzu. She could see that Ama was indeed on their stomach, facing Zuzu as they kept speaking.

“Didn’t you used to miss the sea when you were at NRC all year? The cool water, the darkness? Floyd would talk about getting homesick, wouldn’t you?”

Zuzu sighed again, holding his cheek in his hand.

“Sometimes, yes. As much as I didn’t like my natural form then, I missed having ten limbs. Losing 6 of them was a shock. Couldn’t do quite as much as I usually could.”

Ama blinked sleepily as they yawned, the sun was lulling them to sleep too. Coral really took after them.

“I just miss my home.”

Zuzu was silent, the swaying of his tentacles in the water stopping, and the one rocking Coral slowing down.

“… Your home is under the sea. You remember that, right?”

“…”

“Angelfish?”

Ama sniffled, their eyes watering as they looked to the side, staring at the shoreline nearby.

“I know! I know it is, it’s just…”

Tears began flowing from their eyes, their lips quivering as they continued.

“It’s not that I’m not happy with you all, I am. I really am, I just—” They took a shuddering breath, rubbing the tears from their eyes. “—I had another family before. Parents, siblings, friends, that I will never see again. That my girls will never meet!”

Holding their face in their hands, Ama began tearfully rambling, making Coral’s heart feel funny.

“I had a whole culture, a language, that I can barely remember now. I love my life here, but the longer I’m here, the more I feel like I’m losing a part of myself. Can you imagine that, Azul? Can you imagine remembering the touch of your mother’s hand on your cheek, but her face faded from your mind? She will never get to meet her, you, Jade, or Floyd. She will never meet her granddaughters. She will never know that I’m safe and happy and loved.”

Ama was crying now, hiccuping as Zuzu reached up to cradle their face, pressing his forehead again theirs. He was wiping their tears away, cooing at them like he would when Coral or Pearl had a nightmare.

“And you are so loved, my dear. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but know that when the twins and I gave our word to care for you, we meant it.” Zuzu pressed a soft kiss against their lips, giving them a small smile. “We never go back on our word, especially where you are involved.”

Sighing, Ama nodded, holding Zuzu’s hand against them as they kissed his palm.

“I know, I just hope that somehow, my family knows that. That I’m loved, and safe. And trying to keep their part of me alive.”

Zuzu chuckled softly, one of his tentacles scooping up some water to pour over Ama’s drying tail.

“Is that why you’ve been teaching them phrases in your language? Pearl was shouting something at Floyd a few days ago after he took the jellyfish she was trying to teeth on. Did you teach her curse words?”

Ama snorted, smiling at him as they reached down to splash some water onto their face, speaking a phrase in the foreign tongue that Ama spoke to them sometimes.

“No, nothing remotely like that. It means ‘I love you’ in my language. I just told her it’s a bad word, and to never say it. I figured she’d try cussing one of the twins out eventually, so I told her how to say ‘i love you’ instead.”

Zuzu tilted his head as he repeated the words, though he sounded off. Ama giggled at him, shaking their head.

“No, you gotta click your tongue! Like this.” Ama repeated it, their voice taking on a different tone and accent as they did.

Zuzu repeated it back, sounding closer to Ama’s accent, though they still giggled at him.

“I’m trying! Don’t laugh!” Zuzu huffed, though Coral could make out the tips of his mouth curl up into a smile. “Say it again, say I love you in your tongue.”

Ama smiled, their skin flushing as they repeated the words.

“Hmm, again.” Zuzu purred, smiling at the shy smile on Ama’s face. They repeated it again. And again as Zuzu kept demanding them to say it again and again, while Ama kept giggling and repeating it back.

Coral cringed at the display, feeling embarrassed as they shared a long kiss.

“Ew…Ah!”

Coral yelped as the tentacle that had been cradling her suddenly tightened around her waist and lifted her upside down. Squealing at the sudden change, Coral giggled as Zuzu brought her between them, he looked annoyed as Ama was smiling.

“I thought you were asleep, were you pretending, you little sneak?” Zuzu clicked his tongue, though based on his smirk, he was more amused than anything.

“Hehe, noooo~” Coral giggled as she was lowered down into Ama’s arms, who cradled her against their chest and fluttered kisses against their cheeks. “Ah! Ama! That tickles!”

Coral squirmed against their grasp, finally wiggling up as their little legs grabbed onto Ama’s arms to hold herself straight.

Trying to straighten her face, Coral grabbed Ama’s cheeks with her little hands and, very seriously in her opinion, asked, “Is Ama okay? You were crying about home, do you not like being in the ocean?”

Ama frowned, shaking their head as they gave Coral a smile and bumped their forehead against hers.

“No, baby, Ama loves being in the ocean. They just miss being a human with their family.”

“Ama was a human?! No way!” Coral gasped, eyes going wide. “I thought that was just for school!”

Coral frowned as she thought back to Ama’s earlier words.

“Do we have more family far away? In the land? Is that why Ama is so sad?” Coral asked, watching as Ama’s face turned sad, but quickly back to a small smile.

“Yes, baby, but it’s more complicated than that.” Ama lifted Coral into their arms, sliding down into Zuzu’s arms and tentacles as he lowered them back down into the water. “I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, okay?”

“Besides,” Zuzu piped up, pressing a kiss into Coral’s forehead. “You’re still due for a nap, Coral, you can wait later.”

Coral pouted, mumbling complaints to herself as they all dove back into the water.

“But I wanna know noooow…it’s not fair! I’m not—” Coral yawned mid-sentence. “—mmh. Ima not tired…”

One of Zuzu’s tentacles reached over to brush her hair as Ama cradled her closer to their chest, Coral curling against them despite herself.

“Shush, go to sleep, baby.” Ama cooed as they slowly made their way back home. “I’ll be here when you wake up, and you can ask whatever you want, okay? Sleep my baby.”

Coral blinked sleepily, eyes wandering as she made out the outline of her Ama’s face as they brushed a finger against her cheek.

Coral thinks she understood what her Ama was saying. She loved Ama’s hands on her cheek. She loved her Ama’s face. She never wanted to forget her Ama’s face.

Her final thought, before finally falling asleep to the image of Ama’s smiling face, was how warm her Ama made her feel. Like her own personal sun.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi fic #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade/azul #floyd/azul #octotrio #octopolycule #shrimpy chronicles

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deadbeat-motel · 5 months ago

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ᑕᕼEᖇᖇIᗷOᗰᗷ ᗩᑎᗪ ᔕIᖇᑭEᑎTIOᑌᔕ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

The last two designs for the main cast. With these two done, I can finally work on miscellaneous characters that I've been eyeing the most.

Again, thoughts below the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

Sir Pentious:

I thought I would only have one thing to say about him (the unnecessary eyes) since he was my favorite in the entire original cast but having taken a closer look at him for this, I saw a lot of things that bothers me.

Too many eyes. specifically the lower half of his body has too many eyes and it seems detrimental to him. It's kind of painful to think about it since I do not think we ever see those eyes close. Is he just slithering on the ground with those exposed eyes? That's got to be irritating at best and damaged at worst as he continuously slithers on them.

There are eyes on the bowtie and the hat? There are already 4 extra eyes on his hood, so why have even more? I get that the original Pentious design was basically a monsterous amalgamation of eyes but the eye thing could have been scrapped altogether.

While his palette was the least red out of the cast (More so composed of yellows), it still blends in with the rest of the reds.

The claws are an unnecessary repeating design trait (Alastor and Vox notably have them too). I don't think it would've been too big of a difference to just keep his fingers fully black.

The stripes on his suit are too thick. It's called pinstripes for a reason.

I don't like how the hat is shaped to fit the head, It's awkward.

not a point, but I just wanted to say how the blue color palette works really well with him in that last episode.

CherriBomb:

She's not that bad of a design (She's sort of bland in my opinion) but it's the little small details about her that makes her so simple and also so complicated at the same time. There are so many batches of freckles scattered everywhere, little explosion lines on her skirt as well as the X on her chest, the tattoos are a jamble of random loops and bombs, and her tattering doesn't have an easy shape to consistently draw.

The thought process for these two:

Mx. Pentious:

Pentious goes by both Sir/Miss/Mx. but uses she/they pronouns.

Minimized the actual amount of eyes on her, I kept it only to her actual eyes and those on her hood.

Gave her a butterfly-shaped hood. It's nothing deep since it stems from the fact the notches in Sir Pentious' hood almost looked like one to my bad eyesight. I decided to play more into that idea.

I read some posts where people talk about how Sir Pentious should have a snout and while I understand why and fully support people giving him one, I really didn't want to add the snout to this design. It drove me crazy since I'm not a big fan of it. I tried a compromise where her head was shaped more like Phineas.

Kept the tophat but removed its eye and mouth. If I remember correctly, Viv took that from one of her co-workers from the pilot. I decided to just have it as a regular tophat.

It doesn't have all the colors, but her design does have the Neptunic flag.

I'm not sure if this even is a real snake but I based Mx. Pentious' design on this:

CherriBomb:

Scraped most of her features in exchange for a sukeban theme. I personally have zero knowledge about the punk scene in Australia.

A majority of the suggestions I received for her rough draft had something to do with the skirt. I elongated it and gave it a slit in which the magenta from the inside is able to pop out.

Thought it would be a cute detail to have her hair explode if she's angry.

----

Apologies this took too long to be posted, Life got in the way as well as the fact I was feeling shitty about Pentious' first draft. Her skin was an awkward and ugly shade of green and seeing some posts critical of Pentious' design got me to think a little bit more about what direction I'd like to move her redesign.

You could see this in the earlier rough sketches but this was how Pentious' first redesign looked like

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel redesign #deadbeat motel mrx. pentious #deadbeat motel cherribomb #deadbeat motel redesign #//I only came back from the dead to post these Neptunic Lesbians on pride month/j //#//Happy pride to everyone btw!!//

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storydays · 11 months ago

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Brozone Random Headcannons

So I've seen the Trolls Band Together 3 times and counting and it was so good! So to get back in the groove, and after having some kind words come my way from multiple people, I really appreciate you guys! I'm gonna try a new writing style. Now remember, these are simply my opinions :)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

John Dory:

*Okay, so it is canon that Branch is 24 in the Trolls 3, which makes John Dory about 44.

*Nickname(s): JD, John

Fav color: Aquamarine and Green

Pronouns: He/Him (He supports, but is comfortable as himself)

He also gives me aromantic vibes, because like throughout the movie, he was really nonchalant when the romance bits came up, however subtle they are, he didn't give a damn lol.

JD is giving big Aries vibe with how confident he can be, pretty cheerful, and gets frustrated by tiny details, and unnecessary interruptions.

Bruce:

Bruce is the second oldest at 40

BIG Scorpio vibes!! He's strong (Y'all, have y'all seen how easily he lifted Branch when they first met) and hella independent. He was the first to question John Dory before their show, he was even hesitant to leave Vaycay Island before he sang with his brothers.

Nickname(s): Brucie, I feel like Brandy calls him that to mess with him or when she wants something. His brothers' (mostly John Dory and Clay), call him that to make fun of him as well.

Fav Color: White

DO NOT TOUCH THIS MAN'S HAIR!!!!! He will sic his kids on you and show no mercy.

Pronouns: He/Him (He's a huge ally, but he's also proud of himself.)

He loves experimenting and competing in the kitchen with Brandi, forces his brothers to try their food, and chooses whose food is going on the specials board.

Clay:

Clay is giving major middle-sibling vibes: at 35 years old.

Pronouns: He/They

Clay is non-binary and wears androgynous clothing but prefers their sweater romper and wristbands.

Nickname(s): Claybo (Viva calls him this to playfully annoy him), Clayton (Bruce and JD called him that as a kid, usually copying their mothers and grandma when they would scold him; but now call him that when he's overworked himself and they have to physically drag him to bed to rest.

Fav color: Green it was pretty obvious in the movie bc originally it was yellow when we first met him as a teen, but then we meet him later and it's green, and their whole outfit is green.

Def a Gemini! They're such a playful Troll, despite how serious he may act. But as he stated before, put some respect on his name bc they're a licensed CPA, fool!

Clay's favorite snack combo is:

Fries and a vanilla milkshake! He loves dipping the salty fries in the sweet vanilla.

They talk in their sleep, mostly about tax evasion and hot chocolate?

Hates doing their hair, Viva has to wait until he's sleeping for her to brush his tangles out.

Floyd:

Floyd is the second youngest at 32

He's such a Pisces! He's so empathetic, compassionate, and oh, so sensitive.

Pronouns: He/Him

He and Clay definitely go all out for Pride (Bc Trolls are literally all spectrums of the rainbow! We learned that in Trolls 2! It'd be impossible NOT to have a big party for Pride), and drag their brothers and are literally so hype at the whole event and crashes MEGA hard the next morning and sleeps for a good 12 hours.

Floyd remained friends with Veneer because, c'mon they were vibing. He could see Veneer wanted someone to see him, so he convinced the Mount Rageous police to let the twins out for Pride.

Had a long talk with Velvet and helped her to see the error of her ways, and she began to be nicer to Veneer and listen to him.

Fav color is Black. He knows he slays the Rock Troll look.

I'm gonna settle this once and for all: Floyd is gay. The one earring in his right ear is a shout-out to his voice actor who is an openly gay singer.

Nickname(s): Flo (I feel like Branch couldn't pronounce Floyd's name yet when he was just learning to talk, so he called him Flo and it stuck.) Floydie (when his brothers tease him about his crush that he refuses to name.)

The hair in his face is like a comfort thing for him. He knows his hair is soft, and when he's bored, he plays with it, and twirls it around his fingers.

Floyd definitely has a collection of journals, from his songwriting to venting his feelings, and even (poorly drawn) doodles of his family.

Branch:

He is the youngest at 24 as stated earlier.

Pronouns: He/Him

Fav color: Midnight blue like his hair

This dude is hella smart; like has a super high IQ, but is super chill about it.

He and Poppy are that meme: Tired X Energetic on a level 10!

Nickname: Branchifer (Poppy calls him that when she's calling him out on his attitude or when she's about to start teasing him.)

Def an Aquarius: highly intellectual, creative, and likes to join in on social interactions when it's on his time. Poppy learned the hard way why she shouldn't force him to join in.

Similar to Floyd, he was a bunch of notebooks filled with songs he'd written.

Branch is shy when it comes to family PDA, like if his brothers were to group hug him, or if they tried to mother him, and gets especially prickly when they baby-talk him in front of others.

This dude is the prince of sarcasm, clearly picking that trait up from all his brothers. Like bro, why are you so sarcastic?!

Is undeniably the most sarcastic of the brothers. (His nieces and nephews start to pick up on that, much to Bruce's horror. Brandi thinks it's hilarious.)

Doesn't really like kids, but absolutely adores his nephew Bruce Jr ( I mean he loves them all, but has a soft spot for that boy.) Bruce Jr is autistic and nonverbal and struggles to communicate. I believe he uses TSL (Troll Sign Language), and when Branch learns this, he starts signing fluently with his nephew, surprising everyone, especially Bruce Jr, because not many people can sign so fluently, but then Branch explains, that he learned when he was younger because you could go deaf at any moment and it's such a useful skill.

Bruce Jr shows Branch his blueprints that he's made and honestly, if they wanted to, they could take over the world.

That's all for now! Let me know what you guys think!

A big shout out to @vacayisland appreciate you! This one’s for you 🥰

#brozone x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #headcannons #branch #john dory trolls #clay trolls #bruce trolls #floyd trolls

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useeer · 6 months ago

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Dance with me?

Venture, aka Sloan Cameron x reader

You're at your friends wedding, and somehow meet the cutest damn person in the world.

Tags: fluff, strong language, slight sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!

[Note: I haven't written a fic in 192739 yrs, and my ass hasn't been to a wedding since I was 10 so forgive my ignorance abt how they go!!]

You weren't exactly a party person.

Parties are loud, crowded and really socially taxing. While yes, you'd attend parties here and there; mostly birthdays or accomplishments for friends and family. It still wasn't your favorite thing to do. You are actually pretty upfront with others about how little social interaction you can handle. That being said... fear of disappointing your friends usually got the better of you. They were fine, partying was fun.

Honestly, you'd be lying to everyone if you said you weren't thinking about your soft, cozy bed. Or how you were daydreaming about cuddling up to your pets and watching silly videos. Not even this beautiful wedding could curb your introvert nature.

It's evening now, the golden rays barely peeking over the horizon as it descends. A sweet, cool autumn breeze blows, ruffling your clothes and hair. A welcome comfort on this warm night.

The setting is truly beautiful. Soft, golden glowing lanterns are strung along the edges of the venue. Lush green plants in decorative pots line the edges. The pillars, stone and brick, are painted in the gentle glow of the lamps and lanterns. The style...is Greek? At least you think it's Greek. If someone told you otherwise, though, you'd take their word for it. Especially since half the people here are from the Wayfinder Society, all attending as friends of the groom. The wayfinders are sprinkled around the venue, chatting about and having a grand old time.

You? No such luck, you're only attending for your friend, who happens to be the other groom. While you know a handful of people, and did polite chit chat with them, you mostly stuck to yourself. Actually, that's a lie, you mostly stuck to the snack table. You're leaning by the side of it, plate in hand, trying just about anything there. I mean, what else are you supposed to do?

While eating a particularly good cube of cheese, you let your eyes wander the room. You see a group of people laughing, another group chattering amongst themselves, one enthusiastically waving their hands in the air, seemingly very passionate about the subject. You snort, amused. Drifting eyes finally move over to the husbands, who were talking to an older couple, a quick hug is given here and there.

Man. You were bored.

You weren't trying to be disrespectful here, you just didn't know anyone. Subconsciously, your leg starts bouncing, your thoughts dance to your fluffy, comfy bed. Reaching down for another snack on your plate, you’re disappointed to see they're all gone. Frowning a bit, you look over the table to see if there's anything else you'd like to try.

And boy, was there. The chocolate hair, the hazel skin, your eyes instantly locked onto the person plating their own food. They're dressed in a white button down, and black slacks, the sleeves of their dress shirt hugging them favorably. They even had a cute little yellow bowtie on. You couldn't tell their pronouns, so you figure you'd ask if you ever spoke. Which you weren't, you didn't want to intrude. They looked to be the same person absolutely raving earlier, you'd hate to keep them from it.

If they wanna speak to me, they will. You thought distantly, watching their hands as they pluck up a cupcake.

Workers' hands. You mused, they seemed rough, and strong. They must be one of those Wayfinders. Your eyes trail their fingers, the back of their hand, man...they have really nice hands. Unbeknownst to you, your staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Their hands stills, just before the confectionery hits the plate.

"Uhm... did you want this one?" They ask someone, curious, you look up to see who they're talking to. You finally get to see their face properly, and man they're gorgeous. Too bad you didn't have time to appreciate that fact, as your eyes instantly locked with theirs. You realize a little too late that you're the one they're talking to.

"Huh." Is all you manage to get out, unsure what the fuck to say to this stranger.

"The...cupcake?" They say, motioning it towards you. "Did you want it? You're staring at it like you want it." They say, clearly confused by the way you ogled their food.

"No- no I don't want it. I'm so sorry, ignore me." You cover your face and wave a hand in their direction, this is the worst thing you've ever done. Your face and ears burn in red hot embarrassment, you're just lucky they thought all you wanted was the damn cupcake.

They seem to find it a little funny now, how you're running away from the cupcake you were practically stalking as it left the platter. "Okayyyy, well then this is mine!" They joke, putting it onto their plate before strutting away, seemingly unperturbed by your god awful screw up.

God, you needed to sit down.

You're practically on fire, feeling like you're gonna break into a sweat. Shakily, you find a chair in a less populated area and take a seat. You bend over, putting your face in your hands and elbows on your knees, as if trying to hide yourself. While you know, reasonably, that this isn't the end of the world, you can't help but feel like it is. You got caught! Red handed!

Yes, they thought it was the cupcake, so maybe you weren't totally fucked. But also, you're totally fucked who are you kidding?!

You didn't exactly think you'd interact with them before, but it's awful your only interaction was weird and unseemly on your end. Groaning quietly, you remove one hand from your face to fan yourself, damn you feel stupid.

You fan open part of your outfit, hoping in vain to let more air in to cool yourself down. Freaking out like this isn't a good look. After a couple minutes, you start to feel a little better. The flush of your cheeks is fading, and you miraculously avoided breaking into an anxious sweat.

Sighing, you puff out your lips, you just sent texts to your closest friend about how massively you fumbled the bag. They laughed at you, while you scream-spammed the chat in horror. They did end up reassuring you that you were overreacting, that it was not in fact the end of the world. You thanked them before turning off your phone. You get up, dust yourself off a little before wandering back to the food table; finding yourself in front of the disposable drink cups, grabbing one. Gazing to the left, you find the water. You watch the water slowly drizzle into your cup, before downing the glass in a couple large gulps. Still thirsty, you fill it up again before returning to your seat.

Man, what a day, go to a beautiful wedding, see your friend get married, then fumble the biggest bag ever. You mentally kick yourself, even though on the outside, you look completely normal, sipping on your cup naturally.

Bouncing your foot a bit, you lean forward to scroll on your phone, hoping to find something interesting to pass the time and distract you. You're scrolling for about 5 minutes before someone sits next to you. Out of politeness you don't look, thinking it's another guest needing a seat.

"Soo, about that cupcake. I ate it, definitely. But I felt a little bad. Here." The person next to you says, snapping you out of your doom scrolling.

Why. Why why why. Is all you can think. They're fucking with you, haunting you. All over a cupcake. You look over and see they've got a small plate with another damn cupcake on it.

"Oh im- I'm not hungry anymore, thanks though." You try to nicely deflect, hoping they'll catch the hint and let you die in shame, alone.

"Hmm, okay!" They say, they turn to face forward, unwrapping it for themself. They take a bite and bounce one of their legs, and you wonder why they're torturing you. They hum to themself as they continue to eat.

God. Please just go away...

They put their plate down and dust their hands, somehow already finishing the sickeningly sweet treat. "So." They state, placing both hands on either side of their seat, leaning forward, looking towards you. "Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?" They ask curiously.

"Well uh-" You clear your throat, "My friend’s the groom, it's his wedding. But I don't really know anyone else but him." You shrug, trying to relax and ease into conversation with them.

"Yeah, know how that feels." They say, sympathetically. "Wellll." They draw out the word, as if to emphasize it. "I was thinkin’ you could come to our table! I hate seeing anyone left out." Their smile is reassuring, until they start smirking. "Even. If. They stare at other people's food."

Ok, you can't help it. You groan at their jab, while dragging a hand down your face. "Man, you will not drop that, huh?" You say, only a little less embarrassed this time.

"Nope!" They tease, clearly getting a kick outta this.

"You know what, I barely know you and you're already the worst." You joke, and your brain nearly breaks in two when they giggle at it. Their shoulders shake and they grin, still looking at you. You can't help but smile, even while trying really hard not to. They were stunning, cute and worst of all, infuriating.

"Sorry for staring earlier...I was trying to see... your cufflinks." You say, clearly lying. As if desperately attempting to get out of the cupcake joke jail.

"Hmmm." They hum, unbelieving, eyebrows raised and nodding. "Well, too bad I don't have those." They smile, raising a hand up to show off their sleeve.

You instantly cringe, caught once again. "Oh right." You mumble out, pursing your lips. Damn, you're fighting for your fucking life over here.

Your reaction makes them laugh. An honest to god laugh, and it's loud. They're finding WAY too much amusement in proving you wrong and you don't know why. Despite the embarrassment, you were now enjoying yourself. Talking to them, joking around, even if it's at your expense. Their laugh is almost contagious, and they've got the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

"So.. what's your name?" You ask, your left hand fiddling anxiously at your side. Their laugh simmers down, and they sigh like they just heard the funniest joke in the world.

They hold their hand out towards you, "Sloane, yours?" You grab their hand and shake it, their grip firm. Your brain almost short circuits, realizing how much larger their hand is to yours. You say your name, and they repeat it.

"It's nice to meet you!" They say, shaking your hand once more before letting it go.

"Sloane is a really pretty name." You state, trying to make conversation. Totally, 100% not flirting with them, of course.

"Awe shucks, you think so? Well I like yours too." They shoot back, their cheerful glow never dropping. They look over, and you do the same. You see them eyeing the table they came from. It appears someone stole their seat.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You immediately apologize, feeling bad that their place was taken while talking to you. They shake their head and huff a little laugh, their curly hair bouncing.

"Why're you sorry? Don't be. Plus, it's no biggie." They say nonchalantly, genuinely unphased. They crack a smile and lean forward, as if they're sharing a secret. "Don't worry, I'll get back at them." They whisper, a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

You giggle, and pull back a little. "What're you gonna do huh?"

They pull an inquisitive face, staring up at the ceiling almost performatively. "I dunno! Maybe I'll put confetti in all of their tents!" They announce, toying with the idea. You couldn't tell if they're serious or not.

"You probably shouldn't do that." You jokingly warn, thinking abt how much of a pain confetti would be to get out of a tent. Much less the sleeping bags.

Sloane grins, shining that gorgeous smile again. They seem to be the happiest person in the world. "Well, that's what they get for kicking me out of my own seat!"

You shake your head and let out a small chuckle, "You really are something."

They push you by the shoulder a bit, "I'm a great something I'll have you know." They joke, before settling back in their seat.

Silence settles over the two of you for a bit, and it nearly becomes unbearable. That is until music begins to play. The lights towards the middle of the room light up, and the rest are dimmed to create a spotlight effect. The happy couple's chosen song is playing, and you watch as they approach the center of the room, beginning to dance. You smile, and awe at the sight. Seeing your friend so happy and glowing was truly a treat.

Sloane also watches, they love parties and weddings. Seeing two people so in love is one of life's many treasures. They look over towards you and see you recording your friends dance, they allow a small smile creep onto their face. They admire your side profile and the way your hair compliments you perfectly. You are eye-catching, and the way you practically folded over a cupcake earlier was hilarious. They love funny things, so they've GOT to get to know you. Exploring is one of their favorite things after all.

They settle back and turn their attention to the dance. Eventually the music begins to wind down, and one of the grooms leaves the dance floor. It's the parents' dance, they think. Now that it isn't your friend out there, you click off the record button and look over to Sloane.

"So, what brings you here?" You ask, making conversation with them. They turn their head to face you, their hands loosely clasped together on their lap.

"I'm from the wayfinders society! The other groom, Rey, is my good friend." They chirp, pointing at your friends now husband. "Y’know, me and him got lost once in a cave! Scary stuff, didn't know if we'd make it out." They said dramatically, waggling their fingers in your direction.

"You serious??" You furrow your brow, and lean forward incredulously. Their warm dark eyes look back to their friend, and they nod. "Yeah, it was a couple years ago. We lost sight of our team, and couldn't find our way out. I ended up drilling us a new exit. Real risky doing that but we didn't have a choice." Sloane recounts, "Could've been worse!" They add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"That's crazy, I could never do anything like that." You tap your foot against the ground, even thinking about that type of stuff gets you wound up.

They turn back to you with a hum and smile, "Well, you never know until you try! Exploring is the best thing I've ever done for myself, I love it. Seeing what the world was like before us… finding the rocks and gems the earth has made. It's real worth it." Their passion is evident, every word they speak has them glowing. You admit it's rather charming, seeing them so in love with their work.

"Man, that's so cool." You state warmly. "You got a really cool job, Sloane. You got the job little kids dream of."

They smile genuinely, really happy with the thought. "Well my abuela always said to follow your dreams, so I did. What about you? What's your dream?" They gently nudge your shoe with theirs.

"Hmmm, well. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out." You hum, looking at the ground. Your interests aren't nearly as exciting as theirs. Working one dead end job to the next, just trying to make ends meet. "Thinking tattooing, honestly." You add, looking up at them.

Sloane gasps, eyes widening. "That's so awesome though! I love tattoos, I've got at least four or five." They pull down the collar of their button down to reveal more of the flames tattooed across their neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already noticed it. Wanting to see how far down it goes.

Quickly, you bat those thoughts away. Sticking to complimenting the line work and blocking of their tattoo. You ask what others they've got, and they explain all the patchwork they've got done on their arms. Some historical, some cool, some just to have a piece of the places they've been. They even mention a larger one on their thigh, a dinosaur skull with flowers. You try not to sound too interested in seeing them while asking if they have pictures.

The conversation between you and Sloane runs smoothly, chattering about your lives and cracking jokes at one another's expense. The dancing at the party is now in full swing, guests of all types littering the dance floor. It's now completely dark outside, save for the lighting inside the venue. The lamps hanging from the ceiling are dimly glowing, the lanterns now back to their full glow. You even spot fireflies outside the venue, blinking on and off, flying into the wedding space and out. The place is truly beautiful.

The strumming of a bass fills the venue, an electronic guitar complimenting it perfectly. You recognize it instantly, as it's a song you've come to enjoy. Your new friend, Sloane, practically jumps out of their skin in excitement. They quickly whip their head to look at you while whisper shouting, "I love this song!!"

They bolt up, staring at the dance floor as both their feet hit the ground with a soft thud. They twirl their whole body around, looking at you with an outstretched hand, "Come dance with me??" They frantically blurt out.

You look dumbly at Sloane before slinking back into your chair a bit, cringing. "No no- I don't dance." While waving a hand in their direction dismissively. You're hesitant and it's obvious. The idea of getting in the middle of a bunch of people and dancing. God, not what you were made for.

You were telling the truth, you don't dance! Anyone seeing you attempt to dance may need an ambulance. Sloane slumps by your reaction, and pokes conversationally, "Aww c’monnn, pretty please? With cherries on top? One song?" They say, leaning backwards a bit on the heels of their feet while keeping their upper body forward. They begin pouting a lip out and sporting their best puppy dog eyes, hoping it'll help sway their case.

Nervously, you rub your pointer finger across your thumb. This is not what I signed up for, you think as your lips form a line, eyes locking with Sloanes, trying to will yourself into saying no.

Damn.

You can't. You can't say no! You know you'd kick yourself later if you left without dancing with them. They're everything you like in someone, striking, funny, passionate... You internally groan, searching their dark eyes for a way out. Sadly, there isn't one. Their eyes only plead and beg.

And well... who are you to deny them?

Breathing in a deep, deep sigh, you fold, "Okayy. Okay." You say, holding both hands up, signaling defeat.

Sloane is about to shout out a glorious, loud YES before you cut them off with a finger up. "But first, a shot of liquid courage." You say, pushing yourself up from your chair, walking towards the end of the food table. There lay countless plastic shot glasses full of vodka. You pluck one from the rim of the platter.

Sloane watches as you down the drink, admiring the way your throat moves to swallow. They snort when they see you pulling a face.

"C'mon- c'mon- the song is already going." They bounce, having to fight the urge to just drag you onto the dance floor themself. Shaking your head, you wipe away the grimace on your face and discard the tiny shot glass into the nearby garbage.

They grab your hand and pull you into the crowd, though they seem somewhat aware of your aversion to it. So they lead you towards a less populated end of the floor, despite this, nearly everyone at the wedding was dancing. So you were still around a decent amount of people. They smile wide, looking off into the gaggle of party goers. You find it ironic this is the song you're dancing to, the lyrics playing loudly.

We've got nowhere to go

We've got nothing to prove

Instead of dancing alone

I should be dancing with you

The lyrics are slightly erotic, even, but you don't have much time to ponder it when they turn back to face you. They release your hand, before snapping their fingers in tune with the beat and swaying their hips. You giggle, your cheeks and stomach buzzing from the alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, you do not know how to dance. Not well at least, they laugh, watching you sway awkwardly. "You don't dance do you?" They ask, almost having to shout to be heard over the clamor of people and music.

"No, not really!" You reply, before admitting, "I don't wanna look dumb!"

"Look dumb?! I'll show you dumb." They jest, backing up a bit to give themself some space. With their eyes locked onto yours, they bend their knees while bringing their right hand towards their head, palm open. They're walking towards you sideways, left hand swiping back and forth to their side and front. You about shit yourself, recoiling in shock and laughing. They continue though, bringing both hands up in fists towards their head, pumping them as they shake their hips, still approaching you.

"What are you doing!!" You shout, cracking up at their absurdity. They finally pivot fully towards you, bending forward and moving their hands in circles. They finish off their charade with a performative strut your way, palms open in a dramatic walk.

They laugh, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you further into the floor. "I'm dancing!! You should try it sometime!" They jive, sticking their tongue out. "I'm just saying, no one can look sillier than me!" You roll your eyes and shake your head. The smile never leaving your face.

They grab your other hand and start dancing for you, swaying you side to side. You can't help but giggle, letting them have their fun. You sway your hips and release their hands, moving yours back, snapping your fingers while doing circles and stepping side to side. Their grin widens and they yell, "Hell yeah! get it!!" Encouraging you.

Smiling big, you continue attempting to dance with them. Sloane closes their eyes and lets themself feel the music, they move their feet expertly, and their arm movements intentionally. Seeing this makes you realize they definitely know how to dance. Your eyes explore them, their body and the way they move. It feels dirty watching them like this…But they invited you to dance, you think maybe they want you to watch them. Enjoy them, drink them up.

It feels as though they've already wrapped you around their finger. You feel sadness bubble that the song is already ending. Luckily the next song that plays doesn't disappoint, more bass-y than the last. This one still just as popular as the day it released.

You let yourself loosen, swaying your full body in rhythm with the bass as the song goes on. Sloane is looking at you again, and you daringly strut around them, stepping in beat with the drums. Alcohol does wonders for self esteem. They wait for you to come back around before stepping close, pulling you in by the hand. You raise an eyebrow, checking them with a grin, before gleefully walking back, shuffling your feet in tune with the music then pulling them towards you. They follow excitedly, their foot work impressive as they step towards you. They raise your held hand up as they approach and you twirl around to face them once more. Confidence runs through you at this point, letting go of the hand above you. You bring your free hand up quickly, placing it on their chest before grabbing their opposite hand. They're grinning so hard, pulling back, until your arms are taunt. Then jerking you towards them, you turn so your back hits their chest. Sloane has one hand around your front, hugging you just beneath your chest. The other holding your hip, their head resting next to yours. You both just sway now, enjoying each other's company and the music. "This okay?" They ask in your ear, the tone in their voice dropping low.

"Huh?" You say loudly, turning to face them.

"I asked if this is okay!" They announced a little louder, and closer to your ear.

"Yeah!" You affirm happily, like this is the best day of your life.

Do I wanna know?

If these feelings flow both ways.

Sad to see you go.

Sorta hoping that you'd stay.

Baby we both know.

That the nights were mainly made for sayin' things.

That you can't say tomorrow day.

Dancing with them like this, swaying side to side feels almost romantic. And you're having a really hard time ignoring that fact. That coupled with your already burning attraction has you dizzy. You could stay here forever. Another song passes by, and you both continue dancing with one another. At one point, you fumble through a waltz before they twirl and dip you. Despite having the time of your life, exhaustion was quickly catching up. Feeling a bit hot, and tired, holding both their hands, you turn around.

Looking up at Sloane, you truly get to admire their beauty. They've got beautiful curls, swooping and gentle. Their hair is natural, soft looking, and when you danced you could even smell their shampoo. Their eyes are a deep brown, rich like the dirt they so love digging through. You finally notice their eyebrow piercing as well, and you bite your lip. It suits them. You think.

The longer you analyze their features, you wonder how the hell they're even real. How someone could look as perfect as them, be as charming as them. It nearly drives you mad. They smile a little, their eyes darting away. Their flushed cheeks grow a little redder at your prolonged staring. You smile a little, this is the first time you've seen them at least a little bashful. It's adorable.

The music is playing quietly now, seeing as most of the guests vacated the dance floor. Only a few stragglers are left, you included. So now you can properly talk to them.

"You know earlier... I wasn't exactly looking at the cupcakes…” You purse your lips, and squint your eyes, as if to will yourself to get the words out.

��I was staring at you." You chew your lip, looking away shyly. This confession could make or break this… whatever this is. You certainly don't wanna break it. While nervous, you had a feeling they would respond positively.

Their eyes snap back towards you, and they let themself smile, raising an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I'm that pretty, huh?" They tease.

You sigh and roll your eyes, they really are such a bastard. "Yeah yeah, whatever." You mutter, playfully pushing their shoulder. Not risking stroking their ego any further.

"No no, tell me, was it the bowtie?" They snicker, pushing their chest out a bit to really show it off.

You shake your head, running your hands up from their own and readjusting their accessory. “Yes, it was the bowtie, all I wanted was you, bowtie.” You whisper at their chest, pulling the sides of the bow.

“Psh,” They chuckle, “Okay for real! What was it, huh?” They say, flashing their signature grin while raising their eyebrows suggestively. Perhaps telling them was a bad idea, you purse your lips again, realizing they'll bother you forever until you tell them. It seems like they're DYING to know.

You hum, dropping your head onto their chest. With one hand still on their chest, you let your other trail down their arm before grasping theirs, bringing it up towards you. Flipping it palm up, you let your free hand lightly touch their palm. "Your hands, I like them. I was looking at them." Dragging your fingers along their palm, you feel every callous and rough patch of skin. You turn them over to admire their nail polish and knuckles. You even start to massage in-between their fingers, just soaking up the fact that you can touch them like this, and they're allowing you to.

They seem to be at a loss for words, and you figure that doesn't happen too often. Smiling, you walk your fingers up their arm and to their shoulder to rest it there, bringing your other arm up to mirror it. Their hands come up to your waist and bring you close. While enjoying the embrace, you weren't expecting them to shake you and hug you in tightly. They groan into your shoulder, as if frustrated. You puff out a laugh at their weirdness.

"Sorry- you're just so cute." They say, pulling back. "I just met you and you already got me in stitches." They admit, kicking the dirt by your feet. You figure instant attraction to a stranger is just as new to you as it is to them.

"Well..." You start, not even sure what to say. "We can… go back to my room? I'm staying at a hotel nearby. We can hang out, talk...see where it takes us?" Your voice raises at the end of your sentence, as if a little worried they'll say no. That's another lie, you were a LOT worried they'll say no, denying you any more of their time.

Your anxiety is evident as your eyes search their face for a clue, a glimmer of what they might say. Of what they could be thinking.

Sloane looks at you with tenderness. Such sweetness you could melt. They bring a hand up to cup the side of your face, rubbing their thumb across it. "I'd like that." They say, their voice seems to tighten as if they're both excited and nervous about the proposition.

Yeah, usually parties suck. But this one? This one was amazing.

#i proof read this like 2983 times and so did my bf and then also another friend so if theres a typo im sorry im stupid #venture x reader #sloane cameron #sloan cameron #overwatch #self insert #overwatch 2 #venture overwatch #great googily moogily that thang is juicey #crazy i wrote a fanfiction #also the songs are out of control by she wants revenge and then do i wanna know by arctic monkeys

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leosxrealm · 1 year ago

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ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ ꜰᴛ. ʀɪɴ ɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ᴀɴᴅ ʜʏᴏᴍᴀ ᴄʜɪɢɪʀɪ

pairing(s): Rin Itoshi x reader, Hyoma Chigiri x reader

warning(s): fluff, jealous rin? jealous rin! nothing in chigiri’s part

a/n: i wrote this with male! reader in mind but no pronouns were used so it can be read as gn! reader. also tall! reader

Rin Itoshi

"Rinnnieee," you whined out his name, "i'm sorry Rinnie." all you heard from the boy in front of you was a scoff. "go away. your boyfriend must be missing you," he grumbled. you pouted at his words. during lunch, your seatmate had dragged you with him to finish the chemistry project that was due earlier today. he was a bit of a worrywart who wanted to make sure everything was perfect. anything low would not be tolerated. and now your actual boyfriend was being petty because he lost a whole 28 minutes with you. 28 minutes that you could have spent with him! it was honestly adorable seeing your boyfriend get jealous over some random dude from school. you would never admit that though; because you know that Rin wouldn't talk to you for a whole week after that or a month. yeah, your boyfriend was petty like that. and now on the walk home, he was walking ahead of you, ignoring your whole being. you tugged on the strap of his backpack, pulling him back. hugging him from behind, you pulled him as closer to you as possible. resting you head on top of his, you mumbled, "i'll make it up to you, yeah? how about we go to my house and watch your favorite movies? we can cuddle and then i'll make you ochazuke and you can stay the night? hm? how does that sound?" you asked, still nuzzling your face into his hair. he quickly looked around, before escaping from your grip. "okay okay. let's go already," he had already started walking towards your house, not even looking back to see if you were coming or not. you know your boyfriend hates pda, and normally you respect his wishes, but you couldn't just let him ignore you like that anymore. you deserve some attention too alright! he may not have stopped for you, but he didn't miss the happy "okay" you shouted before running up to catch up with him.

Hyoma Chigiri

it was friday, a day you both loved and (kinda) hated. it was your weekly skincare night, a concept your lovely boyfriend had introduced you to. you loved spending time with your boyfriend but you also thought doing thousands of things to keep your skin healthy was a hassle. you had never learned to take care of your body or your face like that. when Hyoma found out you washed your face with a bar of soap, he gave you the stinkiest side eye you had ever received. ever since then, he would force you to do skincare with him. you didn’t really think it was necessary; you were doing just fine before this, weren't you? but it quickly became something the two of you bonded over. you even found yourself looking forward to it. you were applying the green paste, with a weird smell, on Hyoma's face. he was perched up on the bathroom counter, with you standing in between his legs. after carefully applying the mask, making sure it didn’t go into his eyes or in his hair, you nodded at your work. you passed the container to Hyoma, for him to apply it to your face now. he scooped out a decent amount and started applying it to your face with his fingers, evenly smoothing it out. you started to lean into his hand, when he pulled your ear with his clean hand to make you stop leaning. "stand straight, will you?" he asked you with slight irritation in his voice. after a few seconds, he booped your nose softly, indicating that he had finished applying the mask to your face. you leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the lips, your green clay mask-covered noses bumping together. he pushed you away gently, "it's just there for 20 minutes, alright?" you looked up at him with a soft frown on your face. he just wanted to pinch your cheeks, you looked so adorable, with a bright baby blue headband pushing your hair back, and a green paste covering your face. "if you don't ruin the mask, i'll give you kisses as reward, okay?" he tried to bargain with you. you give a happy nod before hooking your hands under his thighs to lift him up. he instinctively wrapped his legs around your waist, as you carried him to the living room to re-watch your favorite series, closing the bathroom light on the way.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock x male reader #itoshi rin x reader #chigiri x reader #bllk fluff #chigiri hyoma x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x male reader #rin itoshi x male reader #chigiri hyoma x male reader #chigiri x male reader #hyoma x reader #hyoma chigiri #hyoma chigiri x reader #leosxrealm #leo's works

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kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit · 1 year ago

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Male!Nefera x fem! Reader

Prompt- Nefero and the reader go to the mall to splurge on outfits and makeup

She/her pronouns

Fluff/Established relationships

Nickname for the reader- my jewel or my queen

(F/c)- favorite color

(S/f/c)- second favorite color

Edit* it's still good but it needs an update soon*

Art is not mine found it on pinterest

___________________________________________

It was a scareus Saturday the time was 9:23

Withing the De Nile home where a couple getting ready, it was Nefero and his girlfriend [Name], the two where getting ready by the vanity applying their own makeup.

[Name] was applying her lip combo and Nefero was applying the last but of contour on his high cheekbones "Any ideas for today's shopping spree date jewel?" Nefero picked up his setting spray and sprits it over his face

"Hmmm well I was hoping to get a few things maybe a new book to read tonight and a new makeup pallet but get two so we can match, how about that hon?"turning to her boyfriend and smiled at his struggle to fix his hair, she got up and grabbed his brush and got behind him "*sigh* thank you jewel. And ofcourse we xan have matching pallets it's been a while since the last two"

[Name] went through his long hair gently from the bottom up to his scalp, Nefero let out a low hum of satisfaction feeling his girlfriends soft hands on his scalp "no problem hon~" She then started a small braid from the side front downwards and added some hair jewelry "do you have any specific color pallet in mind?" [Name] ended decorating one braid and started one more on the other side

Nefero looked at her from the vast mirror of the vanity he stared for a minute with a quizzed look "hmmm I think we should get one with green, blue and gold tones with some shimmer in them" he puffed up his chest proudly as if it wasn't the same type he would get for them since it had his signature colors

what can he say? he loved to see her wear them on a makeup look or for clothes...maybe for underwear too

He blushed at the thought 'I should buy her a set' he chuckled lowly, snapping back to reality as [Name] finish decorating the last braid he turned getting up and holding her by the waist pressing his chest onto her's

[Name] was confused for a moment but soon placed her hand on his waist, the two looked at eachother with loving eyes "ready to go now my jewel" Nefero let go of her and grabbed her hand and with the other got their matching bags

They walked out of the house and into the limo with the sphinx bodyguards in tow

At the mall

The two are seen walking hand in hand with the sphinx's on each side of the couple

Ghouls stared in envy of [Name] who walked with confidence,her head held high while turning to Nefero and pointing at the shops, after a few seconds the two decide to head to a popular clothing store

Inside [Name] was fascinated to see the new trends in fashion right before her eyes, it all looked so clawsome!

Nefero turned to [Name] "Meet in 20 minutes and reunite at the dressing room, you'll try out first" the ghoul nodded excitedly and went to the racks,Nefero called from behind "Remember I'm paying!" She snickered ofcourse he would classic Nefero

Time skip 20 minutes

[Name] headed to the back of the store to the dressing rooms, she has 3 dresses, 2 tops for bottoms just 2 skirts, plus 3 pairs of shoes to try out

She meets Nefero and she quickly notices that he has a ton more items of clothing than her, which was to be expected from her splurging money boyfriend, don't get her wrong she would do the same but today felt like a minimal day today

She closed the distance between and kissed his cheek "Hey hon~you ready for these amazing picks I got!!" Nefero cup her face with his hands "Show me what you got my jewel" he encouraged and so the ghoul went straight to the dressing room to change quickly, so excited to show him

The first dress

Walking out [Name] wore a heart shape knee above the knee dress that was (f/c) with ribbons that tied around her neck and a ribbon bow at the back with the strings going down to her knee

Nefero looked in aww at the chair he sat across from the stall, " it looks STUNNING on you my jewel!" He clapped enthusiastically "that color looks so good on you" [Name] smiled wide "thank you babe, I can't wait to wear this dress with those heels I like" she turned around and went to put the other ones

[Name] wore the other dresses that where one (s/f/c) that was tight on her skin showing her curves that made Nefero nose bleed and help up a thumbs up making the ghoul laugh harder than she ever did

The third dress was a floor length dark green dress with a slit up her thigh on her right leg, which she intentionally got for Nefero and he coincidently showed she got a suit with the same shade, that ment the next party her father needed to bring the two sons the couple could match, supper voltageus!

Next she wore the other outfits she planed with the two tops that one was a soft yellow the other a autumn orange and 2 skirts one was pencil skirt brown for the orange top and the other was a frilly white skirt for the light yellow top

On to Nefero

(A.N. I'm a little lazy so I'm not gonna describe his outfits but rest assured that he looked hot in everything)

He had gotten a whole new wardrobe just for him..well that was a little exaggerated but hey you get what I mean

It was an hour after and he was done and he looked good with everything he even had his own shirts that match my own (totally didn't get the sphinx bodyguard that was with you to tell him what you got)

Time skip at the bookstore

[Name] and Nefero spent 2 hours at the beauty store but eventually found all that they needed and two brand new same eyeshadow pallets to match their makeup look which Nefero excitedly told [Name] that everyone will have another reminder who you are with and to not think of you as a ghoul below him oh NO

YOU ESPECIALLY where not below him to him you were a goddess above all else in his eyes

"Hey hon! Look at this cover!" Speaking of the goddesses here she was coming towards him with her radiant smile he looked at her with loving eyes thay was the billion time with the 5 years they've been together

"Let's see" he took it from her, it was a thriller book just like the others in her collection at her room at her parents house "it looks spooktaculas my jewel seems no matter how long we've been together there are two things that don't change about you"

The ghoul looked at him and tilted her head "and those are??" He chuckled and grabbed onto her waist and getting close to her, so close he could smell the sweet vanilla perfume she had put on earlier that made his knees weak by her intoxicating smell, he would have taken her right there but he was a man of class

" your taste in books and you're everlasting beauty inside and out that radiates every day of our life together" he spoke to her in such a sweet tone that it made her fall in love with him once more like the day he confessed

Passing the book the the sphinx next to him He cup her face with one hand and kissed her passionately their lips finding rhythm like the many time before this one and the ones to come

He parted the two where breathless he hummed lowly "your lips taste as of they where the forbidden fruit that lord me in and I let it every single time~~" he wisper into her ear making the girl flustered "thank you, now can we go? I'd like to taste you're forbidden fruit but alone if you get what I mean love" she whispers back

Nefero laughed "why ofcourse~ Let's buy those books and get out of here my queen" he grabbed your hand and kissed it gently making his way up to your collarbone as the two walked

Later on the two had a wonderful time~

_________________________________________

***Will be updating soon**

A.N.

Still not that good with smut need to practice but I'm getting good with the intimate kissing and descriptions! I think

I'll make a smut ending later on again need practice haha

Hope you liked this one

488 notes · View notes

rubyreduji · 1 year ago

Text

timeless — ljh

summary: you’ve just met jihoon, yet something about him feels familiar

tags: fluff, romance, reincarnation?, gn!reader warnings: arranged marriages, mentions of death and war reader notes: no pronouns or explicit gender descriptions but they do take a more feminine role in history, jihoon picks up the reader but my mans is strong okay don’t worry wc: 10.3k an: i’ve been writing this for over a month now fjdskla and i like the finished product but im a bit worried the format is choppy but either way please enjoy and show it lots of love...also happy first fic of the 2nd year of rubyreduji!!!

“Soonyoung, stop it!” You scold your best friend as he giggles at you.

“Just go talk to him!” Soonyoung tells you, pushing you towards the door to the antique shop next to your favorite boba place.

Him refers to the cute cashier you always see through the windows when you and Soonyoung go and get boba (which is about three times a week). It’s nothing more than a hallway crush but Soonyoung keeps insisting that it could be more than that if you would just go talk to him.

You don’t actually want to talk to the boy who stands at the counter with a smile, but before you can stop him Soonyoung is opening the door to the store and forcing you inside. When you turn around to chew your best friend out, you find him not there, his back already retreating to the boba shop.

A part of you wants to just dash back out the door but the bell attached to the door has already gotten the attention of the cashier and you can’t escape now.

“Welcome to The Eternity Emorpium, today anything marked with a green sticker is 20% off.” The voice isn’t what you expected Cute Cashier to sound like but when you turn around to face him, you realize you’re not talking to Cute Cashier at all.

Rather than the tall boy with glasses you’ve been peeking in on for the past few months, you come face to face with a short yet buff boy with long black hair. He most definitely is not the guy you came in for, but you have to admit he is just as (if not more) cute than the other cashier.

You’re not sure how you didn’t notice that your normal Cute Cashier wasn't behind the counter, but in your defense you were too busy fighting off Soonyoung.

You give the new cashier—who you have now dubbed Even Cuter Cashier—a smile, before pretending to look at all of the memorabilia set out. The actual shop is nice with an obvious theme and specific layout that only someone with an eye for aesthetic and organization could create. On the speakers a Bruno Mars song is playing and you wonder if it's the cashier who has control over the music or just a general store playlist.

You feel awkward walking around the shop, letting out fake hums every once in a while to make it seem like you're actually shopping and not just sneaking glances at Even Cuter Cashier whenever you can. You stop in front of a playing card deck and you pick it up, flipping it over in your hand a couple of times.

"Oh, we just got those in," Even Cuter Cashier says, startling you a bit. "Put them on the floor this morning. You into cards?"

"Oh, uh," Shit. This is your chance to talk to him, "yeah. My dad is more of a collector than I am, but I can see the appeal."

"Nice. Yeah I'm more of a guitar collector myself, but my wallet wishes I wasn't," he says and you both laugh.

"That's cool though. I would love to learn how to play an instrument but I definitely don't have the talent or patience for that." As you speak with the man you slowly start to drift towards the counter.

"Hey, anyone can be talented, it just takes practice." You quickly glance down at Even Cuter Cashier's name tag to see his actual name is Jihoon.

"Good inspirational quote, but I think I'll just stick to the playing cards," you tell him with a grin as you set the pack down in front of him.

Jihoon just pushes the cards back to you and when you give him a questioning look he just grins. "They’re on the house.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you tell him.

“I wanted to,” he says. “Maybe it’s just my plan to get you to come in here again.”

You smile at Jihoon, your face starting to turn a bit hot. You pick up the pack of cards and bid goodbye to the cashier before turning and leaving. Soonyoung is standing outside the door with two boba cups in hand. He peeks in when you open the door and frowns.

“That’s not Cute Cashier.”

“Nope! That’s Even Cuter Cashier,” you tell your best friend.

“You’re abandoning the other guy already?”

“I can’t abandon someone I don’t even know,” you scoff, “and anyway, I think I like Even Cuter Cashier. Something about him…it feels like destiny.”

Soonyoung laughs at you, but you ignore him, your mind still lingering on the dark haired boy from earlier. The more you think about him, the more your heart starts to grow warm. You can’t place it, but something about Jihoon feels familiar, and you need more.

1500s

“You are to be married to Prince Wonwoo before the solstice hits.”

Your head shoots up, staring at your father, not sure if you hear his words correctly. There’s no possible way he said that. You can think of a dozen reasons why that’s impossible, a few including: 1. You’ve never met Prince Wonwoo in your life, why would he want you as his betrothed? 2. You two did not have a courtship and it would be a scandal for you two to get married without presenting as a couple to the public first. 3. Your family is not nearly important enough to be noticed by royalty. 4. (And this is the biggest one) You are in love with someone else.

Well, your father doesn’t know that you’re in love with someone else, but it’s still an important fact to note.

Despite all of these reasons, your father continues to talk about the arrangement, not noticing the shock on your face. You wonder about how it came to be, and without you hearing even a whisper about it.

“You will be meeting with a royal advisor in two days, please do not cause any trouble.” With that your father walks ways, leaving you with a million questions brewing your mind.

The main one being: how are you going to tell Jihoon about this?

For over a year now you’ve been seeing the same man, sneaking out whenever you can to meet him. He came into town with a bang (quite literally — his caravan practically falling apart with all of his belongings crashing to the ground as it did) and you’ve been captivated by him since.

Your days are never boring when Jihoon is around, the two of you either going on adventures or hanging out in Jihoon’s (new) caravan. Though, you think your most favorite times spent with Jihoon are late at night, when you two meet up on the outskirts of your estate grounds, right on the edge of the forest.

There never is any guessing as to what Jihoon has planned. Some days you two walk around the garden under the moonlight, talking and gazing up at the stars, while other nights you’re whisked off to another town to dance the night away in a hidden tavern. You love the guise of the night, being able to do whatever and be whoever without the fear of onlookers and their judgment. It’s just you and Jihoon in your own little world.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been keeping him a secret for so long, you like keeping him all to yourself. No one can taint your relationship if they don't know about it. Though you suppose that has backfired on you now.

You don’t see your father for the rest of the night and when the sunsets and you slip out the back door and walk down to the forest edge, you do it with a heavy heart. As always Jihoon is standing next to the tree he carved your initials in, a wide grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

As soon as he spots you approaching his face lights up in a grin. He trots up to you the rest of the way, scooping you up into a hug.

"I've missed you," he says, pressing kisses to your lips and cheeks. You giggle at his antics.

"You saw me two days ago, my dear."

"Oh but that's two days too long for an aching heart in love."

Other people may think it's cheesy but you can't help but adore the sweet way Jihoon talks to you, always putting his poet background to good use. You smile as Jihoon holds you in his arms, but soon the good mood is ruined by the news you remember you have to break to him.

"What's wrong, my love?" Jihoon asks, seeing the fallen look on your face. He reaches up and pushes your hair out of your face, a habit he has picked up since you two met.

You just sigh and shift so you're out of Jihoon's embrace. Automatically you miss his strong arms around your waist, but you can't bear to look at him as you talk.

“My father has given me away to another man,” you tell him in a hushed voice.

“Who?” Jihoon responds automatically. “I won’t let him take you. I-I’ll fight.”

You finally turn towards Jihoon, the solemn look still firm on your face. “I’m betrothed to Prince Wonwoo.”

“Prince Wonwoo?!” Jihoon looks taken aback. You don’t blame him. Suddenly he deflates. “How am I going to beat that?”

You’re not sure how to respond. The truth is Jihoon can’t compete. That doesn’t mean you’re going to give up hope on him, though.

“We’ll…we’ll figure something out,” you finally say. You step closer to Jihoon, allowing him to wrap you up in his embrace once again.

“I’m not giving up on us,” Jihoon tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll be fine. We have to be.”

When your father told you you’d be meeting with a royal advisor, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting.

When you arrived at the castle you were amazed at the size of it, but you weren’t allowed to gawk for long, being ushered into a sitting room where two men were already conversing. Neither were your soon to be husband though and you wondered when you might actually get to meet the prince.

The two men soon introduced themselves as Soonyoung and Mingyu, two of Prince Wonwoo’s most trusted men. Now two hours later, you’re starting to question the judgment of your betrothed.

Not only are the men completely scatterbrained and disorganized, they also seem to bicker more often than not, making it difficult for you to understand everything they’re telling you. The only thing you really comprehend is that you’re going to be spending a lot more time with the two men up until the wedding.

You’re given a schedule at the end of the day, your upcoming weeks all planned out for you already. Meeting with wedding coordinators, royalty training, garment fittings, and everything else of the like. You frown, thinking about your normally free schedule has now been filled.

Luckily for you, the meeting finished earlier than expected and you don’t hesitate to direct yourself towards the area where Jihoon’s caravan resides. Your lover is delighted to see you but before he can get any words out you’re throwing yourself at him, pulling him into a kiss. You’re desperate to drown in Jihoon and forget reality even just for a moment.

It isn’t until later that you and Jihoon finally exchange words.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jihoon says. You two lay next to each other on his bed, bare bodies pressed together under the linens. Your head rests on his chest and his hands card through your hair. “Was I not satisfactory in taking your thoughts away? What is troubling your mind so much?

“Prince Wonwoo.”

“You’re thinking about Prince Wonwoo after laying so intimately with me?”

“No! Well yes, but- I- shut up,” you grumble, smacking Jihoon’s chest, making his laugh.

You’ve never met the prince before, though you are well knowledged on him. It’s hard not to be when he is to take over the crown in a few years. You try not to think about how that will make you the queen consort.

You’ve only seen Prince Wonwoo in person a handful of times, none too recently, but you still know the prince is very handsome. Not as handsome as you find Jihoon, though you may be a bit biased. He’s also said to be kind, smart, level-headed, and well calculated. You suppose it could be worse.

“I met with his advisors today,” you tell Jihoon. “I guess it’s just all hitting me. This really is going to happen.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Jihoon moves so he can stare at you in the face, “no matter what happens, I will always love you. My heart is still yours.”

“And mine yours,” you tell him softly. “I love you Lee Jihoon. Never forget that.”

You don’t see Jihoon for a while. Your schedule is packed with futile meetings that take up your day and with the news of your engagement to the prince (who you have still yet to meet), there are guards outside of your estate at night.

You suppose you are fortunate that Mingyu and Soonyoung have grown on you in the past few weeks. Though you still think them foolish, you also have a fondness for the pair. You see why Prince Wonwoo puts his trust in them. You find yourself wanting to confide in them, though there is one thing that still remains a secret.

It isn’t until the night before your wedding that you see your love. You are able to lose your guards for a second and you make a beeline straight to Jihoon’s caravan. He’s still awake, sitting outside and staring up at the starry sky when you approach.

“My dear,” you call out to him. Jihoon looks away from the sky to meet your face, a look of surprise flashes over his face before they form into a soft smile.

“You know you really shouldn’t be out so late at night, it is not safe.”

“Well then, why don’t you help me find some shelter kind sir,” you tell him. Jihoon just grins and grabs your hand, pulling you into his home.

You two spent the night wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft kisses and even softer words. When the morning comes Jihoon is still asleep when you awake and while you’d love to give him a proper goodbye, you know you already pushed your luck enough spending the whole night out.

You quickly find a quill and some ink and you grab a piece of Jihoon’s writing parchment and scribble a quick note to him before slipping out the door. It’s only after the caravan is out of sight that you let your tears fall.

The first time you meet Prince Wonwoo is at the altar. Up close he’s even more handsome than you imagined, with soft facial features and kind eyes. You can’t help but still feel a bit disappointed, staring at the stranger in front of you as you recite your wedding vows.

The chapel where you are being wed is packed full of people, mostly nobility. Your attire is suffocating, despite being fitted for it thrice. Across from you, the prince keeps a neutral face and you wonder about his own involvement in this arrangement.

He’s dressed in a formal outfit fit for royalty. The colors pair with your own dressings and you wonder what you two look like from the outfit. A newly bonded couple who will eventually be ruling the whole country. Are you two a handsome, strong presenting couple? Or do you two look like two fools who have never met before?

You were surprised at the way the public took the news of the engagement. You were expecting backlash against the prince, but he is well loved by the public and they were all happy to see the young man finding a partner to settle down with before stepping up to the throne. Despite never having been seen together in public before today, there was a wide talk of your (fake) courtship and how you must be very lucky to have the prince hold your heart.

If only they knew that a lonely, penniless poet was the real caretaker of your love.

It isn’t until the words leave the officiant’s mouth that you realize you will have to kiss the prince. Not only to end the ceremony but for the public to see you two unite as one. You must look as taken aback as you feel because your now husband takes the initiative, stepping forward to close the distance between you two.

Wonwoo cups your face gingerly, his hands are cold and his fingers are boney. He stares at you for a moment, dark eyes gazing into your soul, before he finally leans in.

The moment his lips press against yours you want to jerk out of his hold. It feels wrong. Your lips don’t fit together nicely and there’s no warmth exchanged between you two. You’re both stiff and you note how Wonwoo’s lips aren't as full as Jihoon’s.

The kiss is over within seconds but the damage has been done and you can’t shake the dirty feeling that has grown under your skin. Wonwoo’s hand slides down your arm to clasp your fingers together. Another sign of unity for the public. You force a smile on your face, but the only thing you can think about is how your heart is miles away, in a small caravan on the edge of town.

My love,

I am not sure how you were able to convince the prince’s closest man to be a part of this, but I cannot say am I ungrateful for him. Though I do find him quite eccentric (and slightly obnoxious) I must give him my gratitude.

I miss you tremendously, but the past few letters you have sent me have been acting as bandages over my heart. I read them whenever I feel an ache of your absence, which is quite often.

It is unfortunate you find royal life boring. If I could, you know that I would sweep you off to the farthest lands where we would explore the area during the day and revel at night. I would show you the large world out there and we could experience new joys together.

How I long to have you lay by my side at night. To feel your soft, tender skin against my fingertips. It pains me to even think about it, but it would kill me not to.

I will never stop fighting for us.

Write back soon,

Your Jihoon

My darling,

I saw you today. I was taken quite off guard when I saw you riding in the carriage, next to Prince Wonwoo. I admit, you two make a handsome couple, but not more handsome than us.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen your beautiful face in person, that even seeing you with another man made my heart sing. I couldn’t pull my eyes from you, doing my best to soak in the sight of you because you were once again gone.

You looked quite winsome sitting in the carriage, but you did not look like you. Are you required to wear such extremities every day, or were you dressed for the occasion? Either way I cannot imagine the process of getting ready to be a swift one.

If I am being honest I do not find the purpose of such efforts. Does the prince not find your natural beauty fit to his standards? If so then off with him. Any person with eyes would be fortunate to gaze upon you. I know I was.

Seeing you has only made me yearn more for you. I know it has only been a few weeks since your matrimony to Prince Wonwoo, but to me it has been lifetimes. How I crave to feel your touch, to hear your voice, to kiss your lips.

I know that the idea is futile but I will never give up on you. No matter what, I am still yours. And I hope you are still mine. Even if I only see a glimpse of you once every decade, my heart will still burn for you.

Forever yours,

Your Jihoon

To my heart,

Though you are always in my thoughts, you have been overtaking my mind more often than not lately. Please do not think I am upset about this, it is quite the opposite, but I am afraid I have been missing you a great deal more than usual.

Maybe it is due to a conversation I had the other day. I was at a tavern, catching up with an old acquaintance who was in town, and you came up. Jeonghan questioned if there was a reason why I had settled here and wondered if it was ‘due to my heart’. I laughed and confirmed his suspicions.

We spent a deal of time after that talking about you. It felt liberating being able to speak of you to someone else. I must have rambled on for at least an hour before Jeonghan finally cut me off, telling me how lucky I must be to have someone like you in my life. I had no choice other than to agree with him.

Speaking about you and thinking about you has thrown me into a tumultuous frame of mind. It is quite shameful how often I get lost in fantasies of us and what I wish we could be. You have overtaken my mind, body, and soul. There is not a single night where I do not dream of you.

I hope our future king can see how fortunate he is to be married to you. I would kill thousands of men to be in his position. Your smile itself is worth more than every jewel on his crown. I know I am just waxing poetic at you, but that is my job.

I know we must stay apart, but please mourn the future we could have had for me. Please write back to me with every thought you have about our imaginary future, because even if I cannot have the real thing, my dreams will be enough for me.

Dream of me as well,

Your Jihoon

The life between you and your husband is…comfortable. You two talk, but not often and seldom about anything that is not shallow or mundane. You two sleep side by side at night but the last time you two touched each other was when you danced at your wedding and while his days are spent in meeting, yours are spent wandering the castle grounds and having tea with Soonyoung and Mingyu.

The only thing you find yourself looking forward to in your days anymore is the nightly lettering that you receive from Jihoon. It was only a week into the marriage when Soonyoung noticed how miserable you were. Without being able to hold it in anymore, you told the man about your lover and your heartbreak. It was then that Soonyoung suggested he help you out, acting as a carriage pigeon to deliver letters to and from Jihoon.

One night you are sitting at the desk in your shared chambers with Wonwoo, writing your letter for Jihoon, when Wonwoo speaks up. He is sitting on the bed across the room and his deep voice startles you, not used to talking to the man like this.

“Are you happy?” Wonwoo asks you bluntly, after calling out your name. You take only a moment to form an answer.

“I am content, my lord,” you tell him. Though you have stopped referring to the man as “Prince Wonwoo” in your mind, you cannot help but tack on the formal titles at the end of your sentences to the man.

“But you are not happy. Why?”

“Rest assured your highness, it is nothing you’ve done.”

“Does it have anything to do with the letters Soonyoung delivers to you each evening? The letters you are writing back right now?” You freeze in your seat. You were unaware he knew, but the prince is not ignorant. You suppose you couldn’t keep it a secret forever.

“I-”

“Do not mistake my curiosity for accusation. I’m aware this arrangement is not an ideal situation, and I would not be upset if there was another. I would not even be upset if you wish to be with him,” Wonwoo says.

His words trouble you. There is a benefit for both of you in the marriage, but his words imply he is not exactly happy with the arrangement either. The offer to let you leave him is strange though, and causes you to fault for a moment.

“I am not going to abandon you, sire,” you eventually respond. “I have made an obligation to you.”

“No, your father did. Though we are not well acquainted I still hold empathy and I do not want to be what is keeping you from your happiness. From your happy ending.”

“Either way my father’s word is say, so I will do what he asks of me. It is an honor to be wedded to a man of your status,” you tell him, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

“But that is all it is: status. What about love?”

You don’t answer. You sit there and stare down at the letter you are writing to Jihoon. You think about the wooden box hidden in the drawer that holds his letters.

“Please, I do not wish to cause you turmoil. If you want to go, I will not hold you back,” Wonwoo says.

You finally turn to look at your husband. “You are very kind-hearted, but I cannot accept that offer. I will not tarnish your reputation like that. Do you know the talk that would rise if they heard the soon-to-be king’s spouse up and left? What would your father do to mine? It is too risky.”

Wonwoo has a morose look on his face, like he knows you’re right. “Tell me about him,” he says, surprising you.

You hesitate. You should not talk of your lover to your husband. It is unorthodox and unbecoming. You look at Wonwoo’s curious face though, and you can’t help yourself.

“He’s a poet. I’ve never met someone who can use words the way he does. Even in things as simple as short letters or passing comments, he can make it sound like the most romantic sentence ever uttered,” you tell Wonwoo.

“Tell me more.”

“He has a kind soul, like you. He’s very exciting to be around. He used to travel the world, so I love to hear him regale the tales of his adventures. He likes to take me on our own little adventures as well. One time a traveling show came through a neighboring town and he got us tickets to go watch.”

“You love him greatly.” It is not a question. You just nod to Wonwoo. “You light up when you speak of him. In a way I’ve never seen before.”

You don’t know what to say to him, so you turn your back to him once more, resuming your letter to Jihoon.

You love Jihoon, everyday apart from him feels like you’re struggling to breathe, and under any other circumstance you wouldn’t have stopped at anything to be with him, but you are not under those circumstances. You fought your father, refusing the marriage, even telling him you loved someone else, but he did not listen. He told you this was the one thing he would put his foot down on.

You can’t blame him, how often does someone get the chance to marry a prince. The things this marriage is doing for your family is immeasurable and you cannot in good conscience leave them without a second thought. Not to mention the damage it would do to your family’s reputation, let alone Wonwoo’s. Your family would be shunned by the public and Wonwoo would be labeled a joke of a king.

Not to mention if it was ever discovered what really happened. What would happen if everyone found out why you left? You and Jihoon would surely be ostracized. Town piranhas in even towns in other kingdoms. Jihoon’s career as a poet would be over. You can’t imagine that being a happy life.

Not that you’re particularly happy right now either. You wish you didn’t overthink everything, or else you would have left the town even before you got married. You and Jihoon could be living in his caravan, just you two alone, safe and sound and happy.

It is too late for that though, and now you have to pay the consequences. Married to a man you know nothing about. A man who seems to be rooting for you despite the outcome. It makes you frown. Maybe your first step in figuring it all out is figuring out your husband first.

“Have you ever been in love, my lord?” You decide to ask Wonwoo one day while walking the castle’s grounds. As of recently you two have gotten closer, an interesting bond forming between you two, though most of your time is spent talking of Jihoon. Wonwoo never draws back on his suggestions that you follow your heart.

“Not in the way you are. I was very fond of someone a long time ago, but they loved someone else.” You frown at this news.

“Please excuse the crudeness of my words, sire, but then why do you put so much mind into my love? Do you not wish to be wed to someone?”

“I do,” Wonwoo answers after a moment of contemplation, “but I do not want to be the reason why true love is separated. You and your Jihoon, you are a story of fate. Who am I to get in the middle of it? The public likes me enough, I will be okay. No matter what, I will be okay, but will you?”

Your heart aches and yearns for Jihoon, and your husband is not making it easier. That may have been his goal though.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask Wonwoo. You frown as you stand in front of him, your stomach in knots of worry.

Wonwoo just gives you a soft smile. “I am sure. If anything, I should be worrying about you. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes. Both Soonyoung and I checked twice. You have ensured that everything will run perfectly.” You reach over and take your husband’s hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”

“Ah, it is the least I could do. Now, you have somewhere to be and I cannot keep you waiting any longer. Send me letters, okay?” With a final squeeze of your hands, Wonwoo lets you go. You smile at the man once more before turning away from him and not looking back.

You slip out of the castle through the servant’s doors and quickly make your way to the outskirts of the grounds. It reminds you of all those times you escaped your own house to meet Jihoon at the edge of the forest. The thought makes a grin grow on your face as you speed up your pace even more.

Just like all the previous times, when you get to the edge of the estate Jihoon is standing there waiting for you. You launch yourself into his arms, allowing him to pick you up and twirl you around. He’s giggling high pitched and gleeful as you two spin around in each other’s arms.

When Jihoon finally puts you down he doesn’t waste a moment and leans in to kiss you. You happily kiss him back, grabbing his face and holding him in place. You can feel a wet stream of tears run down your face, your heart bursting with joy as you reunite with your lover.

His lips are familiar against yours and you automatically feel at home. For the first time in months you can relax, finally back in Jihoon’s arms.

“It’s you,” Jihoon muttres when he finally pulls away. He brings his hands up to caress your face.

“It’s me, my love, it’s me,” you tell him back, tears still flowing freely.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more.” You lean in and press another quick kiss against Jihoon’s lips. “But we will never have to miss each other again.”

“I’m never letting you go,” Jihoon tells you, gripping you tighter. “Oh how much I love you.”

You giggle. “I love you more. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

You grab Jihoon’s hand and pull him away from the grounds to where his caravan is waiting for you two. As you two travel further and further away from the town you feel your heart grow lighter and lighter, excited for the rest of your life of adventures with your love.

The next time you see Jihoon is nearly a week later. You and Soonyoung are once again getting boba when you spot the boy behind the counter, just like last time. When you and Soonyoung went and got boba a few days prior you noticed that the original Cute Cashier was working, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment at him not being Jihoon.

As soon as you lay eyes on your Even Cuter Cashier, you quickly make a beeline into the shop, your desire for boba long gone.

Jihoon looks up when he hears the sound of the bell ringing and his eyes soften into a smile when he sees you entering through the threshold.

“You came back!”

“I did. It’s hard not to, with the amazing service I got last time,” you say. You casually browse the store as you talk to Jihoon, glancing at him every so often as you do.

“Well I’m glad that my plan to get you to come back succeeded.”

You giggle at Jihoon’s words as you stop in front of a stack of old photos. You flip through them, looking at all the memories they hold. Many of the photos depict different couples, all smiling brightly as they hold each other. The images put a smile on your own face.

“Find something good?” Jihoon asks and you jump a bit at the closeness of his voice. When you turn, you see the man standing by your side.

“Oh, yeah, just these photos! Aren’t they beautiful?” You tilt them a bit to show them off to Jihoon. “I think it’s so amazing that no matter how the world changes, love will always stay the same.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Love’s been around since the beginning of time.”

“The love these people were feeling in these photos is the same love we experience today. There really is nothing like it.”

You look back down at the photos. The one in your hand shows a woman clinging onto a man’s arm, her cheek pressed into his bicep as she smiles at the camera. The man himself is smiling as well, though he is smiling down at the woman, rather than the camera.

“They’re cute,” Jihoon mumbles, his own eyes transfixed on the photo.

“Yeah,” you say, “I wonder what’s their story.”

“Something happy, I hope,” Jihoon says before moving to walk back behind the counter. You grab a few more photos from the stack before following after him, placing them on the counter.

Jihoon smiles at you and starts to ring you up. You take a moment to stare at him, your eyes tracing over his fluffy hair and round face and kind smile. You don’t stop staring until Jihoon breaks your focus.

“What? Does my hair look stupid or something?” He grins lazily at you again and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Uh, n-no! It’s just…your smile is super familiar to me. Sorry, that may be weird.”

“No, no, it’s not. I guess I kinda felt the same thing the first time you came in,” Jihoon tells you. “Who knows, maybe we knew each other in a past life.”

You chuckle at Jihoon’s joke, but you don’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

1951

War Against North Korea Rages On, No End in Sight

You frown at the heading, throwing the newspaper aside onto the counter. The news of the North Korean troops invading Seoul changed everyone’s lives, throwing the country into a state of chaos trying to keep them from completely overtaking all of South Korea. Now a year later, the war is still in full force and though you know it’s important to stay updated on what’s happening, you don’t bother with the news articles anymore. They always say more or less the same thing: the war continues on with more casualties and less hope of ending soon.

Your heart grows heavy with each day growing worse than the last. You wish there was more you could do to help the war efforts, but you’re stuck at home taking care of your sick father. He’s the only family you have left, after your mother’s death a few years ago. All of the money received from her passing has gone into your father, but since the start of the war prices have done nothing but skyrocket.

So you spend your days at home taking care of your father, and your nights in a factory working to earn an income. You don’t mind the work though, allowing your mind to focus on something that isn’t the war or your father.

The only other time you get a break, an actual real break, is on Saturdays. It’s the one day in the week you allow yourself to go out, spending the afternoon to yourself getting groceries and taking time to focus on yourself.

You go through the same routine, walking down to the port and spending a few minutes enjoying the waves lapping against the shore, the salty sea water scent filling the air as the summer breeze brushes up against your skin. After taking in the sight of the sea, you move further into town and down the street to the cemetery.

Every Saturday you visit your mother’s grave, sitting with her for a while as you update her on your life and the current events. Occasionally you will bring a book and read aloud. You find the time spent with her calming, her maternal love enveloping you and letting you rest, even for a small bit of time.

Afterwards you browse the shops in town (only looking, never buying) before heading to the market to finish your day off. You spend the money for the groceries to get you through the week before heading back home. You do your best to walk most places you go, not wanting to spend the fare for the trollies.

The streets are busy on the weekend and on your walk back to your house, someone bumps into you causing you to drop your bags, all of your freshly bought groceries tumbling to the ground. The person doesn’t even stop and you can’t bother chasing them too. You just sigh and bend down to pick up the now unusable goods.

You now have to turn around and go back into town to get more groceries. It will take a good chunk out of your funds, but not too much. Maybe you’ll pick up a few more shifts at the factory.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” As you’re thinking about how to make up the price of the ruined groceries, you miss the man who has walked up to you.

When you look up you see a beautiful man with a sweet round face and dark hair staring down at you. He’s dressed nicely in a suit and it takes you a moment to actually respond to him, too distracted by his good looks.

“Pardon?”

“I was asking if you were okay?” The man bends down to help you pick up the rest of the food spilled on the ground. “I saw that man bump into you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh! I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, appreciative of the kind gesture.

“But all of your groceries are now ruined. Allow me to buy you more.”

“Oh no! That’s not necessary,” you quickly tell the man. You don’t even know him and you would feel guilty allowing a man who didn’t even cause the casualty to pay for your groceries, especially with the state of the economy.

“I insist,” he says, standing and then helping you stand as well. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Sir it really-” Before you can even finish your sentence the man was walking away, back towards the town. You could just go back home, but then you’d be left with no groceries for the week so you begrudgingly follow him back to the market.

“Lee Jihoon, by the way,” he tells you as you two walk around the market, collecting what you need. You give him your name as well and he grins, a small spark igniting behind his eyes as he tells you how lovely your name is.

When you’re done regathering what you need you move to head to the register, but Jihoon stops you.

“This is all you’re getting? It’s barely enough for any proper meals. Please, add more. I won’t mind, I demand of it actually.” Jihoon then moves to add more to the basket and once again you have to follow along as Jihoon is the one carrying it.

You protest each time a new item is added but Jihoon keeps hushing you like you’re a life long friend rather than a stranger he met on the street no more than thirty minutes ago. By the time Jihoon is satisfied with what’s in your basket, it’s full to the top and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much food in your life. Guilt eats away at you as you think about the money Jihoon is about to drop on you just because someone else made you drop your bags.

It isn’t until you’re checking out and Jihoon casually pulls out multiple banknotes without even a blink of an eye that you realize that not everyone lives like you and that just maybe Jihoon doesn’t mind paying so much because he has the money laying around to do so. Even back when your mother was alive and your father was able to work your family was still paying for everything with scraped up coins.

The sun is already low in the sky by the time you two exit the market and Jihoon stops you once more. “Allow my driver to take you back to your house.”

The sentence alone confirms your suspicions on Jihoon’s monetary status. To own a car is a luxury of its own, but to have a driver as well seals the deal.

You already can tell it’s impossible to turn Jihoon down so you just follow him back to his car. You wonder if his driver followed you after you two walked to the market. When you two get into the car you tell your address to the driver, trying not to get embarrassed at the thought of the nice car driving through your run down little neighborhood.

Jihoon’s driver just nods and starts up the car. The three of you sit in silence until the car pulls up to your house and you climb out. Jihoon does as well, helping carry your groceries to the door.

“It was nice meeting you,” Jihoon says. “If you ever need anything again, give me a call.” He holds out a small white card, his business card, to you. You take it and thank him once more before entering your house, your mind still lingering on the strange, rich man.

You don’t give Jihoon a call, but you don’t have to. You run into him again not even three days after your first interaction. It’s early in the morning and you’re heading back home after work when you hear your name called out. When you turn you see the man’s car rolling up next to you, his head poking out of the back seat window.

“What are you doing walking alone so early in the morning? The sun has barely started to rise.”

"I'm walking back home from work," you answer honestly.

Jihoon's face looks sour at this, like he couldn't imagine working so late at night. "If you have been working all night let me treat you to breakfast."

It's your turn to let your face screw up slightly. You know that Jihoon can afford to buy you breakfast, but you still don't want to feel indebted to him. Not to mention your father will be waking up soon and you'll need to make his breakfast as well. You tell Jihoon as much.

"Then I will buy breakfast for your father too," is his solution.

You're not sure why he keeps insisting on buying you things but you just sigh and climb into the car. Jihoon has a smug grin on his face as he tells his driver where to go.

A few minutes later the car pulls up in front of a diner and you and Jihoon enter. It's nothing extravagant, but still a treat for those with a tight budget.

The two of you sit in silence until a waitress comes and takes your order. Jihoon doesn't allow you to order for yourself, picking what he tells you are the most delicious and filling items. He orders for himself and then a third meal, asking the waitress to not cook it until she brings the check.

You note the way Jihoon has a nice presence to him, friendly and warm and inviting. The way his soft features are accentuated when he smiles, his round cheeks puffing up and his eyes squinting. You find him fascinating, but there's something more than that, something drawing you to him.

"So, where do you work that has you walking home at six in the morning?"

The question breaks the ice between you as you fall into a natural conversation, asking questions and trading answers. Your hesitations towards the man quickly ebb the more you talk.

You learn he's a highly successful businessman but the war has halted much of his work which has given him some much needed down time. Like you, he doesn't have many living family members and he's an altruistic man so much of his money is left unspent.

Before you know it both of your meals are finished and the waitress is bringing over the check and the packaged meal for your father. Just like at the market, Jihoon pulls out his banknotes and pays before escorting you back to his car.

When you arrive at your house a part of you feels disappointed that the morning with Jihoon is over. Now it's back to the real world.

You're halfway to your door when you suddenly turn back around. You don't know what causes you to say it before you can stop yourself you spit out, "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It's the last I could do after all of your kindness."

Jihoon beams in front of you. "I would love that."

Bloodiest Battles of the War So Far, Conscription Soon to Follow?

Five months after you meet Jihoon he knocks on your front door, a letter clutched in his fist. There's a grim look on his face when you open the door and you know automatically.

The Battle of Bloody Ridge, follwoed by The Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, took out many of the soldiers on the frontlines and the country was now desperate to find new ones to replace them. A mandatory conscription for any young man who was eligible to join the military.

It didn't take long for you and Jihoon to start a relationship after your first few meetings. He's the perfect man, taking care of both you and your father and showering you in nothing but love and affection. The thought of him so far away, in the direct line of danger, makes a lump grow in your throat. Your chest tightens as your heart aches.

"We'll be okay," Jihoon mutters into your hair as you cry silently into his neck, holding him tightly. Like if you hold him tight enough he won't have to leave.

That's not how the world works though, and you accompany Jihoon on the day he is to deploy.

"If you need more money just send me a letter and I'll take care of it, okay?"

"You've left me with plenty already, love," you tell him as you fix his jacket collar. "Just come home safe."

"As long as you make sure I have something to come home to."

You can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you lean forward to press your lips to Jihoon's. He kisses you back, putting all of his love into it. A promise to you, that you will see him again, that this isn't your last kiss.

With one last squeeze of the hand Jihoon boards the bus and you're left alone, a heaviness in your heart and worry forming under your skin.

You just have to keep telling yourself he'll be okay, he has to be.

December 19, 1951

To the one my heart has gone to,

I hope you don't mind the frequency of my letters, I just feel closer to you know that eventually you'll hold the same paper in your fingers. I miss you tremendously, to the point my heart aches thinking of you.

Do you know that when you send your letters they smell of you? I always keep your most recent ones safe, in hopes to preserve the smell for just a little while longer.

There's not much to report about today, which I suppose is a good thing. Better than something hectic or even worse, a battle.

Unfortunately it still doesn't look like there will be a break anytime soon. Battle after battle, life after life. It's not easy, but I've come to like the other men in my unit. Jeonghan takes good of us and Seokmin makes nice company.

I don't want to keep you long, but I wanted to make sure you'd get a letter for before the holidays hit. Merry Christmas my love.

I'll make it up to you when I get home okay? For now just keep me in your dreams.

Write back soon, please. I want to hear what my lover has been up to. Keep me updated on your father as well.

All my love,

Your Jihoon

March 22, 1952

Today was hard.

I'm doing unwell as I write this letter, but it would pain me more not to send you my update.

Kwon Soonyoung died next to me today on the battlefield. It is not the first time a man has died near me, but it is the first time it was a man I have grown fond of. He was only a few months older than I am.

As grim as it may sound, and as much as I will mourn the loss, I am grateful that it was not me in his place. It was a difference of mere inches and fate chose Soonyoung. Does it mean anything? Is there a reason why I lived and he didn’t? I’m not sure but all I can think about is that his sacrifice is giving me a second chance at going home. Does that make me a bad person?

Everyday I pray this nightmare will be over. The thought of you is the only thing encouraging me to go on. I think about coming home to you, kissing your sweet lips, holding you in my arms.

We’ve been apart longer than we were together and I beat myself up for that everyday. I wish we would have met earlier, but as soon as the war is over we will have all the time in the world. Just you and me.

Wish me home soon,

Your Jihoon

November 30, 1952

To the home of my heart,

You have been on my mind all of today, not that you aren’t always on my mind normally. It has been particularly hard today though. It’s been a full year since my departure from you and every day has been harder than the last.

It’s hard to sleep at night and I often lay awake and think about you. Sometimes I will take a walk and look up at the sky. The moon and the stars are thousands of miles away but they still seem so close and bring so much comfort. That’s how I feel about you. Gazing at the moon also helps because it is still the same moon that you are under as well.

Look at the moon and think of me okay? Maybe one night we will be looking at the moon at the same time and I will be able to feel you just a bit closer.

Whenever I am able to fall asleep, I dream about you. I dream about the thought of you laying next to me. I wish to kiss your soft lips and feel your warm skin and look into your shining eyes. I dream of the life we will build together when we are reunited at last.

Would you marry me, my love?

I know it’s silly asking over a letter like this, and asking with such a strange courtship, but something in me feels the need to ask. Ever since I met you on the street that one fateful day, I’ve known you were the one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so please accept my proposal (I promise to give you a proper one the second I get home).

The other men keep teasing me about you, but they just don’t understand the love we share. Being with you, even just the thought of you, it feels like home.

A part of me wonders if I’ve secretly loved you my whole life. It sure feels like it. No matter what I know you were made for me and everyday I bless whatever force brought us together. I love you so much it drives me crazy.

When I get home let me take you out on a thousand dates to make up for the time lost.

Please send me your answer soon,

Your fiance Jihoon

February 01, 1953

To my dearest,

I’m writing to you from the infirmary. I was shot in battle earlier, nowhere too fatal just the leg, but I just woke up from the procedure to remove the bullet and patch me up. I’m lucky to come out with nothing more than a scar. Some other men aren’t as lucky.

It seems everyday is a new fight, but it’s worth it if it gives me a chance of going back home to you. We’ll buy a house close to the port, so you can be near the ocean breeze. Every night we’ll walk the shore and watch the sunset together. Then on Saturdays I’ll accompany you on your errands. We’ll go to town together and get groceries and visit the cafe and do whatever your heart desires.

I’ll buy fresh flowers for your parents every week.

We could get a cat to keep you company while I’m at work and you could quit that heinous job at the factory. That would give you more time to focus on yourself. You and I both know that my wealth is more than enough for just the two of us.

Our house shouldn’t be too big, but still a good size in case we ever have guests over. I think we should start a garden as well.

Ah, my love, thinking about our future is nice. It helps me wish for the future, helps me feel closer to you. Thank you for being my safe place away from this nightmare. I should rest more now, but please remember that I will always spend everyday loving you.

Pray for my speedy recovery,

Your Jihoon

July 07, 1953

Jagiya! I apologize for the lack of letters recently, things have been so hectic around here, but I write with good news!

The talk around camp is that the negotiations have been making a move, there is finally an end in sight. I cannot wait to get back to you. It has been far too long since I’ve seen you and the photo I carry of you has started to fade already from how often I admire it.

I cannot stay to write for long, but I needed to send you an update and a reminder of my love. I promise we will be back together soon.

Go to town and buy some flowers for yourself okay? Today is worth celebrating.

I can’t wait to see you,

Your Jihoon

You’re jittery as you smooth down your shirt, waiting for the bus to pull up. The same bus that took him away nearly two years ago.

When all of your friends heard about your beau, they all called you crazy. Holding out for a man who has been gone for quadruple the amount of time you spent together and you guess maybe it is crazy, but for Jihoon you would do anything.

It is true that you two were only together for five months before his deployment, but even before he left you knew you were madly in love with Lee Jihoon. You spent your nights reading the letters Jihoon sent you, and writing ones back. You would think you two had been lovers for fifty years rather than five months.

You’ve always felt the pull towards Jihoon though, like you’ve been loving him all your life. Every letter he sent made you fall in love with him even more, and now two years later he’s finally coming home.

The days were hard without him when you saw him nearly everyday before he left. Winter of 1952 was less than kind, taking your father with it and leaving you alone for the last seven months, wishing for nothing but for Jihoon to come home. Now he is and you couldn’t be more elated.

The people standing around you start to cheer when someone catches sight of the bus, but you can’t do anything but stand there, your heart pounding in your chest. When the bus stops and soldiers start to pour out you have a moment of doubt. The fear that Jihoon won’t want you anymore, that everything has changed for the worse, creeps into your mind.

The thoughts can barely form though because then Jihoon’s stepping off the bus and his skin is so much tanner than it used to be and you’ve never seen him with his hair so short but it’s Jihoon, your Jihoon. His eyes light up when he catches sight of your familiar face and he’s dropping his bags and running towards you.

His arms are locked around your waist and you’re being lifted off the ground. You cup Jihoon’s face in your hands and lean down to kiss him as he spins you two around, easing all of the worries in your mind. Your cheeks dampen as tears start to stream down your face, too many emotions coursing through you to keep them all on the inside.

You keep your hands on Jihoon’s face as he sets you down. You stroke his cheek, feeling his warm skin under your touch. “You’re here, you’re really here.”

“I’m here my love, I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you and Jihoon to leave the station. You two sit in the back of his car, pressed together as Jihoon presses kisses to your face every few minutes. You’re not much better though, leaning into him with a dopey grin on your face, ready to start your new life with the man you love the most.

The next time you see Jihoon isn’t at the antique shop at all. You’re getting coffee at the cafe next to your apartment when you see the man walk in. His eyes light up a bit when he sees you and he makes a beeline to your table after getting his drink.

“Is this seat open?” He asks, pointing to the empty chair across from you.

“Of course.”

Jihoon takes a seat before turning his attention to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” you say teasingly but Jihoon just grins.

“Maybe it is,” his voice is smooth as he talks, and your breath gets caught in your throat, “I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if I was destined to meet you over and over again.”

You break his gaze, trying not to show him how flustered you are. “You’re quite the sweet talker you know? You don’t know anything about me-”

“No, but I don’t think it would be hard to learn. I’m starting to think we’re not really strangers at all. You can’t tell me that you aren’t a bit interested in me as well.”

You glance back at Jihoon to find him staring intently at him. His eyes are warm and deep and you can feel yourself being drawn in, like you’ve stared at those eyes a million times before. There’s an inviting sense to all of Jihoon and the only thing you can think of to describe it as is home.

“Okay,” you tell him with a slight grin. “Let’s see if destiny is right.”

And really you don’t care if it is fate or not, because as you and Jihoon fall into a comfortable conversation you realize that the two of you meeting was no mistake, and that you could definitely love Lee Jihoon for multiple lifetimes.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @lovelyhan @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @violetvoo @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @17kwans @candidupped @ressonancee @m1nghaos @1-800-jeonwonwoo @anothershorthuman @chwecardcaptor @jwnghyuns @flwrshwa @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @seuomo @tinkerbell460 @strawberri-uyu @hotricewoozi @luvthatleader-nim @lorde-oftherings @marzmeltdown (also tagging @gyuswhore bc taylor swift lol)

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lotusbxtch · 7 months ago

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SoCal to NorCal - Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Masterlist Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 1: Malibu

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Chapter Summary: You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, cum kink, spitting, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Santi being a menace is his own warning, Frankie the PEK, Frankie has a big dick and so does Santi, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control. a/n: This is my very first series fic! I plan to have 3 chapters including this one. This one was meant to be a fun spicy little intro into the fic, but of course Santi being an absolute menace meant that this is absolute smutty filth and I'm sorry (not sorry). MASSIVE thank you to my sweet @for-a-longlongtime, who not only gave me the iconic Santiago line "guava goes better with pussy and mezcal," but beta read for me, bounced ideas around, and encouraged me when I wasn't sure that I could do this. Without her help, this fic wouldn't be in existence! Dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you! (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I think that should be everything,” you murmur, closing the back of the forest green Jeep. You card a hand through your hair while going over a mental pack list for the third time this afternoon. Behind you, you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder and warm, strong hands envelop your waist.

“You ready to ride then, sweetness?” asks your boyfriend, Frankie. You smile and lean back into his embrace. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this trip,” you say, turning to plant a kiss to his aquiline nose, and then another to his plush lips. You both hop into the car; Frankie navigates towards the coast, while small butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach as you think about how the two of you got here.

You and Frankie Morales met six months ago at the Santa Monica airport. In a bid to encourage team bonding, upper management at your job booked a helicopter tour of the Los Angeles skyline. Frankie was the pilot for your chopper. He charmed your group with his charismatic yet humble demeanor and fun factoids about LA, especially you – your coworkers insisted that he kept staring at you when you weren’t looking. But Frankie ultimately beat you to the punch and asked you out for drinks the following night. You accepted, and the rest is history. The attraction was palpable from the get-go, and Frankie’s go-with-the-flow attitude complimented your fiery personality to a T. You adored how detail-oriented he was in all aspects of his life – memorizing your favorite teas, asking about how your projects were going, knowing exactly how to make you see stars in bed with his fingers, his cock, and especially his tongue. You couldn’t deny that Frankie was the perfect addition to your life, and you to his.

Through those first few weeks, you both divulged the more challenging bits of your lives. Frankie told you about his daughter, Isabella, and how his struggle with cocaine almost ruined his life. His relationship with his ex-wife was strained because of it, but they co-parented well - it was their main goal to ensure that Isabella was never put in the middle of their struggles, that she always felt supported and loved by both of her parents. Frankie had lost his pilot’s license after he failed a random drug test, and he took that as a sign to do the work to fix what was broken. He was now two years sober, and back to flying.

You, in turn, revealed to Frankie that he wasn’t the only man in your life. For the last decade, you’ve been with Joel Miller, your husband of seven years. Joel was the steady compass of your soul, the man whose roots intertwined deeply with those of your heart. You’d loved Joel almost your entire life, having grown up in the same neighborhood, although your crush on him was secretive during your childhood. He was your older brother’s best friend from college, a transplant from Texas whose parents moved to the Bay Area when he was a teenager. You ran into him after getting your master’s degree and moving back to the suburbs of San Francisco, and something sparked between the two of you. Since then, you’d been inseparable. When your work requested that you spend a year going between NorCal and SoCal to establish the new Los Angeles area office, you knew it would be a challenge for your relationship. As it turns out, it was only really a challenge for one reason — your sex drive was incredibly high, and sometimes you were apart from Joel for weeks at a time. Phone and video sex worked as well as it could, but it couldn’t beat the real thing. One night, after a particularly frustrating video sex session — all of your toys ran out of juice and you’d left your charger at home, among other things — Joel surprised you by suggesting that you didn’t need to stay monogamous.

“Are you sure, Joel?” you asked incredulously. “You’ve never been one to particularly like sharing.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied. “Lord knows the new office ended up bein’ more work than either of us thought it’d be. I know how much ‘gettin’ yours’ can be de-stressin’ for ya, and I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t seek it. It’s not like you’d be askin’ someone to move in with us. If it helps you, it makes me happy. And it sure would give my phone battery and hands some relief.” He chuckled as you scoffed in mock indignation. “You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t want to about whoever you get involved with. As long as you’re stayin’ safe and they’re treatin’ you as well as I do, then I’m okay with it.”

You sighed in consideration. “Let me think about it some more,” you said, picking at your rental’s bedspread. “It’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”

And then two weeks later, you met Frankie. Frankie was surprisingly relaxed when you told him about Joel, albeit surprised. He’d hesitated to continue things until you got on the phone with Joel and had him tell Frankie himself. After all, you’d checked with Joel within a few days of meeting Frankie just to make sure Joel was still okay with you being with another man.

You made sure to tell Joel when you’d be seeing Frankie, and Frankie didn’t contact you when you were back home with Joel. It wasn’t that either man wanted to pretend the other didn’t exist; rather, they each wanted to respect the other man’s time with you. Frankie wasn’t seeking marriage or starting a family; he wanted to continue using his time and energy on Isabella and getting his career back on track. And Joel was confident in and comfortable with your marriage in a way that didn’t allow for unseemly jealousy to crop up.

Gradually you told each of them bits about the other one, until one day Joel suggested that the two of them meet. You were game, but wanted to run it by Frankie first.

“He wants to meet me?” Frankie asked, wringing his hands a bit and looking mildly surprised. The two of you had just finished dinner at one of your favorite taco trucks in LA, and you licked the tips of your fingers as you finished your last al pastor taco, the warm, savory spices dancing on your tongue. Frankie took a sip from his Mexican Coke, his plush lips wrapping around the cool aqua glass of the bottle.

You nod your head in affirmation. “Just for a couple of days. We could make a vacation out of it. Joel suggested maybe we road trip up the coast.”

Frankie looked pensive. You don’t blame him, especially when the two men had made a concerted effort to keep their relationships with you separate. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Frankie asked, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You studied those dark chocolate irises, so similar to Joel’s.

“Yes, Francisco,” you confirmed, reaching out across the plastic picnic table to touch his hand. The sounds of the city wrapped around you as the two of you gazed at each other. “Joel has my heart, but so do you. And I want both parts of my heart, my favorites, to be with me at the same time for once.”

“Ok, mi amor, let’s go then,” Frankie said resolutely, bringing up your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

Your thoughts bring you back to the present, with Frankie’s one-hand grip on the steering wheel and the warm coastal sun beaming through the windshield. The windows are down, allowing the salty sea air to filter through the Jeep. He flips on his turn signal and begins driving through a particularly posh part of Malibu. Giant mansions dwarf the street, pristine lawns and modern, open-glass architecture rolling by as you continue on. You let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell does Santi do again to afford this?” you ask Frankie, eyes flicking to and from each house you pass by.

“Nothing,” Frankie chuckles. “When we got the money from that final mission that Santi and I went on, he invested the entirety of his share into the stock market. Well, almost everything.” He snorts at the champagne Range Rover in Santi’s driveway as the two of you pull up. Frankie, on the other hand, put the majority of his earnings into a trust fund for Isabella. The rest he used to set himself up comfortably but modestly. “Santi still does some consultant work for private security firms, but he just keeps reinvesting the money and using it to buy property and fund charity work,” Frankie explains.

“Can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty solid strategy,” you respond, taking in the splendor of Santi’s Malibu abode as Frankie parks his Jeep. The three-story home is minimalist and modern on the exterior, with a combination of cool beige stone and warm wood paneling. No other houses are on either side of the building, so the property is ulta-private, and even has its own beach. As the two of you unpack your bags from the car, you hear a wolf whistle shriek from somewhere around the corner. Jumping slightly, you turn and then smile as Santiago Garcia strolls barefoot out of the house, his pale linen slacks and caramel vintage ribbed polo shirt fluttering lightly against his muscular frame in the sea breeze.

“Hey pendejo, you finally made it!” Santi yells to Frankie, then turns to you with a “hi, hermosa,” and a kiss to your cheek. You wrap your arms around Santi’s torso, inhaling his sandalwood and cinnamon scent and giggling a hello. Frankie walks up, bags in hand, and tries to ruffle Santi’s perfectly coiffed curls. Santi dodges him and then goes in for a bear hug; Frankie smiles broadly as they rock side to side before clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, hermano, and thanks for letting us stay with you,” Frankie says warmly as he picks up your luggage and the three of you head towards the house.

“Not a problem, I’m in town for a consulting gig and figured it’d been awhile since we’d gotten together,” Santi responds ahead of you. You and Frankie follow him into the open-concept common area, admiring the sleek countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and plush yet subdued furniture. Light neutrals rule the color palette, with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows to allow natural light in. You run your hand over the back of a velvet lounger, indulging in the texture against your fingertips. Frankie goes to the bedroom to drop off your luggage, while Santi starts pulling things out in the kitchen for dinner prep. Continuing towards the back of the house, you push open the sliding glass doors, letting fresh air in while you admire the view from the balcony. Below, the azure waves caress the sand gently, and the sound of the ocean encourages you to release all the stress from the last workweek.

The boys get going on dinner as you slip on a silky emerald green dress - opting to go braless and barefoot - and dab on some rosy lip stain. The dress drapes lushly over your body, making it both comfortable and beautiful. After spritzing on some of your favorite perfume and putting on thin gold hoop earrings, you emerge from the guest bedroom you and Frankie are sharing for the weekend. Santi looks up and hums in approval.

“Damn, bebita, you look delicious,” he purrs as he finishes seasoning the steaks. “Do you always dress up for dinner with this chump or did you get pretty just for me? It’s okay, you can tell the truth.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and chuckle as you squeeze his bicep in passing. “Santi, don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, “I did it for myself. I don’t need to dress up for him to want to devour me.” You cross the kitchen to Frankie, who’s working on the caprese salad. Frankie huffs a laugh and puts down the kitchen knife, wiping his hands on a towel before to circling his hands around your waist. You lean into him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“That’s right,” he shoots back to Santi without looking over, “she doesn’t need extra dressing up; she’s stunning enough as she is.” He kisses your forehead softly as you gaze up at him lovingly.

“You’re right.” Santi lets his gaze scan over you approvingly. “She probably looks even better with nothing on.”

“Santiago!” you laugh. “You’re such an insufferable flirt.” You walk back over to the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, fixing him with a smoldering smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hmm?” Santi has always been relentlessly flirtatious with every attractive woman he meets, including you. Frankie’s never bothered by his antics, but you see his eyes flick towards the two of you, anticipating his response.

“Don’t tease me with promises you won’t keep, sweetheart,” Santi warns you, voice like rich caramel, sweet and smooth. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment before you break away, laughing softly and successfully ruffling his hair like Frankie wanted to earlier. That distracts Santi from the moment, as he huffs and runs his fingers through his curls to fix them.

A few hours later, the three of you are relaxing on the balcony by the fire pit after dinner, drinking mezcal margaritas and catching up on life. You sit with your legs across the cream patio sofa, your back against Frankie’s side like you often do with him. His arm is draped possessively across your torso while his thumb rubs absentmindedly back and forth across your shoulder. Santi goes inside to fetch the mezcal bottle from the kitchen, having switched to just the liquor, and you stand from the couch to observe the beach at the balcony’s railing. The darkness of night has settled over the landscape, lending deep navies and turquoise hues to the water, and everything feels more hushed.

As you inhale the coastal breeze, you feel Frankie’s warm body press into you from behind, and then his soft lips pressing a trail of kisses over your shoulder and neck. You hum happily, smelling his rosemary cedar soap on his skin, and press yourself further into him, lightly grinding against his hips. Frankie lets out a quiet groan and presses right back into you, letting you feel his hardening length against your ass. He begins to cup your breasts through the silken fabric of your dress, easily pebbling your nipples with no bra between his fingers and your tits. The heat of arousal starts to pool low in your belly as Frankie slides his hands down to your hips, grinding on you until he’s fully hard beneath his pants. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, and turn to the side to catch his lips, biting on his lower one and eliciting a louder groan from him.

“Sweetness, I need you so badly,” Frankie whispers into your ear. When you quietly moan in response, you can feel Frankie’s hands slip down the silk over your ass and hear him shuffle behind you. Spinning around and opening your eyes, you see him on his knees, hat next to him on the floor, starting to ruck up your dress.

“Frankie,” you hiss, grabbing his hands, desperate for more but concerned. “What if Santi sees?”

“What if I want to watch?” you hear suddenly over Frankie’s shoulder, and you gasp when you look behind him and realize Santi is leaning against the open balcony door, sipping mezcal straight from the bottle. A fire ripples from the base of your spine upwards, and your gaze drops to Frankie, whose eyes have gone nearly black with desire but remain on you. Your lips pop open slightly, and you freeze.

“Well, querida, answer the man,” Frankie rasps. “Either you let him watch or make him go back inside, but either way, I’m eating this sweet pussy.” His hands slowly drag up your legs until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, which rips a moan from your throat. As Frankie’s lips trail up and down your legs, you look back up at Santi, trying to read his expression. Gone is the molten chocolate of his irises; instead, you see glimmering adamant, dark and deep like the desire painted over every line of his face. But that heated gaze is still respectful – you know Santi would never cross your boundaries. If you truly didn’t want him to watch, he’d go inside the house, no questions asked.

It’s for that exact reason that your desire thrums through you like a bass line, and you bite your lip. “Frankie, I need your mouth on me right now. I think Santi needs to see how hard you make me come.”

Frankie responds with a groan, while Santi lets out a deep purring sound. He moves to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, and takes another swig of mezcal as he takes in the sight before him. Frankie immediately yanks your soft lace panties down your thighs, and growls at the gossamer-thin string of arousal that connects your weeping center with your underwear.

“Fuuuuck, querida, you’re fucking soaked,” Frankie moans, inhaling the intoxicating scent near your glossy slit. You step out of your panties, and he grabs them, tossing them to Santi. The man on the couch catches them with one hand, bringing them immediately to his nose and sniffing deeply.

“Goddamn,” Santi grits out, “she smells so fucking good, hermano.” He brings the gusset of the lace garment to his mouth, gingerly licking the slick off, groaning at the taste. You gasp at the sight, a wave of wetness trickling down your channel. “Tastes amazing too,” he adds, leaning back into the couch cushions and stuffing your panties into his pocket.

Frankie pushes your dress up to your waist and moves your left thigh to rest on his shoulder, spreading you open. He splays your lips open with his thumbs, staring at your pussy glistening in the fire’s light, on display for both him and Santi. He licks a steady strip from the bottom to the top, swirling around your clit at the end. You moan loudly, leaning back against the railing for support.

“Oh bebita, listen to those sweet sounds you’re making for Frankie,” Santi croons from the couch. “He must be making that pussy feel so good.”

“Yes, Santi,” you gasp, swallowing thickly as your eyes close in pleasure. “He’s so fucking good with his tongue.” You hear Santi rumble deep in his chest in response.

Frankie begins licking, sucking, and tapping on your clit exactly like he knows you like it, gripping your cheeks with both hands and massaging them. You writhe against his face, rocketing faster towards your impending orgasm. When you look up, you see Santi palming his cock through his pants, the bulge straining against the linen. Your cunt clenches at the image before you. Frankie can tell you’re close, so he slips two of his fingers into his mouth momentarily to slick them up and then plunges them into your warm cunt. You throw your head back, nearly screaming in ecstasy. Your grip tightens on the railing.

“I know you’re close, querida,” Frankie growls. “Let Santi see how pretty you look when you come.” Frankie then hooks his fingers just right inside of you and hits that soft spot that sends you into orbit, squealing. You feel everything tighten and then release, your orgasm rippling through your core and into your extremities. Frankie and Santi both moan at the sights and sounds of you reaching your peak, Frankie lapping up every drop of release from you.

“Good fucking girl, mamacita,” Santi says, getting up from the couch and stalking towards the both of you. Frankie gets off of his knees, easing your leg off his shoulder while wiping a hand across his drenched mouth. He knows exactly what Santi wants, so he moves back a couple of steps. You almost stumble, legs like jelly, and Santi catches your waist.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, and his assessing gaze breaks through the post-orgasm haze you’re in. “I really want to taste that perfect cunt, baby,” Santi whispers. “Can I do that for you?” You look at him, hesitating for a moment only because this is a line you’ve not crossed with Santi before. You nod clearly at him. Santi shakes his head. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Santi,” you breathe. “Please put your mouth on me.” Santi groans in anticipation and starts walking backwards, pulling you with him. When you look at him in slight confusion, a sheepish smile passes briefly over his lips.

“Bad knees,” he reminds you, and you laugh. “Kneeling on concrete would kill me.” He tilts his chin to Frankie. “Fish, open the door to the bedroom. I’m gonna lay her down. And bring the bottle.” Frankie obliges, sliding open the other glass door to the expansive bedroom and grabbing the mezcal bottle.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You sigh a yes, and Santi kisses you softly at first, then deeper. He tastes like cinnamon, tropical fruits, and smoky liquor. Moaning quietly, you start to lose yourself in his kiss as he moves the both of you backwards into the bedroom.

The California king size bed is draped in soft taupes and creams, the bedding a gauzy cotton that feels incredible on your skin as Santi gently lays you on it. He pulls your dress up your body, and you arch your back to help him remove it over your head. As your bare body is exposed to him, glowing in the low light, he sucks in a breath. Frankie places the mezcal bottle on the bedside table, then strips out of everything except his black boxer briefs, his length fully hard against his left thigh, and sits down on a sleek chaise lounger in the corner, watching you and Santi.

Santi strips off his shirt and then climbs onto the bed over you, slowly sliding his hands over your soft skin as he goes. You shift on the bed at his touch, back arching a bit and thighs rubbing together. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he reaches your head, forearms bracketing either side of your face. His body is so close to yours yet not touching.

Moaning, you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls and pull briefly. Santi bites your lower lip in response with a small growl. Sitting up, he grabs the mezcal off the bedside table.

“Open,” he commands, taking a swig from the glass bottle. You obey, and Santi leans over your open mouth and fucking spits the mezcal into it. You swallow, moaning at the taste, the alcohol and him. He kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth, and you whimper, your legs dropping open of their own accord.

Santi notices and chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he purrs. “Dirty girl.” He kisses and nips along your ear and neck, across your collarbone, and down your chest. Reaching your nipples, he swirls his tongue around and then gently nips each of them. You feel slick pooling at your entrance, starting to drip down your inner thighs. Santi traces his tongue down your belly and to the curls above your pussy, inhaling deeply. He pushes your thighs open further and groans at the sight.

“Goddamn, you’re drenched,” he grits out, shuffling down to put his face at your center. You glance over at Frankie in the corner, and notice he has his cock out, slowly stroking the length. You whimper at the sight and Frankie licks his lips. You feel a sudden pinch at your inner thigh and whip your head back to the man between your legs.

“Eyes on me, hermosa,” Santi orders. “I want you to look right at me when I eat this pretty pussy.” And with that, he dives in.

Santi is a messier lover than Frankie, who usually eats you out with absolute precision, priding himself with knowing exactly how to make you come as fast as possible, and repeat the process until you’re crying out from overstimulation. Santi, however, is licking at you like he wants to drown himself in your cunt. His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes across your slit, sucking on your lips and clit, biting at your thighs, shoving his tongue deep into your channel.

“So fucking sweet,” Santi pants out in a daze, separating his mouth from your sopping cunt for just a moment, and then goes back in for more. You mewl and grip the bed sheets as he continues to ravage you.

Your moans of pleasure stir something in Frankie, who gets up from his seat and walks over to the bed, his need to touch you nearly insatiable.

“Frankie,” you whine as you see him, your eyes hazy with lust, reaching out to him.

“I’m right here, querida,” he reassures you, then gets onto the bed, placing himself behind you. You scooch up the bed so that you’re sitting in between his spread legs, your back to his bare chest. You can feel his hard length against you, silken and hot, his precum smearing slick against your skin. Frankie kisses your forehead, then leans forward and grabs your legs behind the knees, pulling back and spreading you impossibly wider for Santi. The man between your thighs groans, slipping two fingers into you, making your back arch even more.

“Does our little slut like to be spread out? Do you like Frankie holding your legs open for me, bebita?” Santi growls, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You cry out at his words, throwing your head back against Frankie’s shoulder. One of your hands grabs Frankie’s thigh, and the other one grips Santi’s hair once again.

“Yes,” you respond, pushing his head back towards your dripping slit. “Lick my pussy like you mean it, Santi.” He groans deep in his chest and dives back in, and you feel Frankie bite the junction between your neck and shoulder in arousal. Santi continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it in tiny circles. You feel your orgasm begin to rise in your lower belly, intensifying with each thrust and lick. Santi feels your slick walls bear down on his fingers.

“That’s it, honey, I know you want to come for me,” Santi says.

“Give it to us,” Frankie whispers in your ear. “Come for me and Santi.”

Frankie’s command is all it takes to snap the tether in your core, shattering you into pieces as the pleasure courses hot through your body. You scream their names as your pussy gushes wave after wave of slick, running down your thighs and Santi’s fingers, into his waiting mouth, licking and slurping obscenely, his fingers continuing to press into your g-spot to prolong your high.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now,” Santi grits out, pussydrunk. He stands up and hurriedly shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, his thick cock springing free and bobbing slightly. You feel your mouth water; his dick is just as gorgeous as Frankie’s.

Santi meets your eyes once again. “Do you want me to fuck you while Frankie holds you open, sweetheart?” Santi asks you. You pause, your pleasure-addled mind narrowing in on one idea – having them both.

“I want you both,” you moan. Santi’s eyes widen a bit and then dart to Frankie. They share a smirk and then Frankie turns to you in his lap.

“Querida, how do you want us?” Frankie inquires. “One at a time or at the same time?”

“At the same time,” you whimper. “I want you both in my pussy.”

Santi and Frankie groan in unison. Santi smiles wickedly, looking at Frankie. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

“Just like we used to,” Frankie chuckles darkly, and your fuzzy mind tucks away their exchange for later. “We have to get her ready, then.” He slowly releases your knees and turns to you, kissing the side of your face and lightly nibbling your ear. He grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning your head sideways to meet his eyes. “We’re going to work you open first, okay, baby?” he intones softly. You nod your head yes. Santi and Frankie’s eyes meet, and Santi opens the bedside table drawer, grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it to Frankie.

He catches it, reading the label. “Guava?” Frankie asks quizzically. “What happened to the mango-pineapple one?”

Santi shrugs. “I still have it,” he explains, “but guava goes better with pussy and mezcal.” You huff a laugh and Frankie smiles, kissing your forehead again and sweeping your hair out of your face.

“Guess we have an edible lube connoisseur here,” jokes Frankie, opening the cap and pouring some of the slick liquid onto his thick digits.

The sweet, juicy fruit scent wafts through the air, and Santi grabs the bottle from him, doing the same while shaking his head incredulously.“It’s not my fault that you have no sense of refinement,” he retorts. Frankie just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetness?” Frankie murmurs. You nod your head and breathe out a “yes, baby”. Frankie reaches in front of himself and slips his two lubed fingers into you, and you whimper softly. Santi follows suit, slipping two of his fingers into you next, kneeling between your legs. You feel stretched full but so turned on. They allow you a few moments to adjust, and when you nod your head, they begin swirling their fingers in opposite directions. A moan rips from your throat and you grab at the bedsheets. They continue swirling and pressing their fingers in and out, and the sight of your pussy filled with their fingers gets the both of them rock hard.

The cloud of euphoria in your head is all-consuming as they continue, your arousal reaching an almost painful peak. Suddenly you grab their wrists and both men stop immediately, concern crossing their faces. “Are you okay, bebita?” Frankie asks, his brows furrowing.

You nod your head rapidly, and then bleat out, “I need you both inside me right now.” Santi and Frankie grin at your fucked out expression, looking at each other conspiratorially.

“Well, you heard the lady, Pope,” Frankie says. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He shifts you forward as he moves to the side, pulling his underwear all the way off. He lays on his back on the bed, his hard cock against his stomach dripping pre-cum. “I want you to ride me, hermosa, and then Santi is going to enter you from behind as you lean forward,” Frankie explains.

You nod your head in understanding and straddle his thighs, facing him. Frankie hands you the lube bottle. You dribble a stream onto his waiting thickness, and he hisses as the cool liquid hits his hot velvet skin. Grabbing his slick length, you shuffle forward and guide him into your channel, whining when he bottoms out easily. Frankie reaches up and grips your hips, guiding you to ride him.

After a minute, he looks over your shoulder at Santi, who is slowly stroking his dick. “I think she’s ready, Fish,” Santi says, and Frankie nods once. Santi gets on the bed, coming to his knees behind you and grabbing your hips. Frankie slides his hands to your back, gently pulling you towards him until you’re leaning forward, laying chest to chest, your pussy on full display for Santi, stuffed with Frankie’s cock. You hear Santi groan behind you at the sight.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, bebita,” Santi admits as he slicks up his hardness with the lube. “Been thinking about being inside this pussy for months.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you tease, looking back at him. “Better hurry before the offer expires.” Santi smirks at you as he places his hands on your hips.

The moment you feel the head of Santi’s cock slide into your pussy, you gasp as the sting of the stretch hits you. You hear Santi behind you grit out a quiet “fuck”. Slowly he continues sinking into your hot, wet heat. Reaching forward, he circles your throbbing clit softly, making you whine but relax, allowing him to slip deeper into you, inch by inch. Your pussy twitches and both Santi and Frankie choke on moans.

When he fills you as far as you can take both of them, the three of you hold still. As the seconds pass, the sting gives way as you adjust to being this full. The result is rolling waves of lightning sparking through your veins with each minute movement inside of you. You let out a high-pitched whine as a knot of white-hot pleasure tightens in your core.

“Mierda, bebita,” Frankie moaned, “are you gonna come just from both of us being in you?”

“God, she feels so fucking good,” Santi murmurs, almost to himself. Both of them are gripping you tightly as you continue to whimper and whine, your high quickly building. Your breathing intensifies, and you start to shake.

It’s so much, being so full of them physically, and the thought of them both in you - two of the most attractive, sexy men you know - is nearly making you lose your mind. But you don’t want to come before your boys have even gotten to move. It almost feels like a weakness, being this fucked out for them.

“It’s ok, sweetness, let go,” says Frankie softly, realizing you’re holding off for them. He presses a kiss to your neck and it’s your undoing.

The brush of his lips against that sensitive spot right under your ear pushes you off the edge and you wail, your pleasure cresting as you jerk under their firm grips. They moan loudly, your pleasure stoking theirs. The three of you catch your breaths as you come down from your high.

Frankie looks up at you, eyes pitch black, swimming with devotion for you. Santi strokes your hips gently, his strong hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks you sweetly, rubbing his hands across your back, his thighs clenching from holding back.

You take a shaky breath. “So fucking full,” you respond, and then giggle softly at your obvious observation. The boys laugh too, and then moan slightly as your bodies shift. Santi squeezes your hips and asks, “Are you ready for us to move, hermosa?” Your head is swimming in endorphins as you whimper out, “Yes, Santi. I need both of you to fuck me now.”

With that, the two men lock eyes and nod, beginning an apparently practiced dance of their cocks. As Frankie slides himself out, Santi pushes in, and then they reverse roles. You cry out in ecstasy. It’s so much more than you could have ever imagined.

Frankie and Santi start off with slow, shallow thrusts in and out, gradually stretching you around their lengths. When Frankie hits a particularly sweet spot, you moan fervently and more slick coats them, making them both moan back in response. The friction between their cocks and your walls is delicious.

“Fuck, bebita, you look incredible taking the both of us,” Santi says, gripping your hips harder, a sheen of sweat glimmering across his body.

Frankie hums in agreement. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises. You preen at their words, arching your back to change the angle. Santi whimpers and kisses along your spine, worshiping your body. The room is thick with the smell of sex, guava, and mezcal, the squelching sounds of your pussy weaving between all three of your moans and cries of pleasure.

The boys begin to speed up the wetter you get, starting to fuck into you with vigor. You feel like your whole body is vibrating. Leaning down to kiss Frankie changes the angle once again, and Santi lets out yet another whimper as you slide your tongue along Frankie’s.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, that’s perfect,” he gasps, getting even harder inside of you. He starts to rub your clit in tight circles, making you yelp. “I want you to come one more time for us before we fill you up,” he continues. “Gonna make your pussy milk our cocks. C’mon, honey, you’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper. “I - it’s so much…”

Frankie lets out a growl. “Oh, querida, I know you can come for us one more time,” he says. “Just think about how full of cock you are right now.”

He’s right. The psychological thrill of having both men inside of you is the push you need. You start to shake again, everything tensing up. Both men moan as your channel pulls tight.

Santi leans down to your ear, still thumbing your clit. “Fucking come for us. That’s an order.”

You scream so loudly when your fourth orgasm hits you, that you’re grateful that Santi has no neighbors - because they definitely would have called the cops by now. Tears leak down your face from the intensity, and Santi whimpers loudly as he thrusts in and comes deep in you, his hot seed coating your walls. The tightness of your pussy and Santi shoving deep end up pushing Frankie’s cock out, but he couldn’t care less.

When Santi’s strokes slow and then stop, indicating he’s finished, Frankie pushes him off of you, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He shoves your legs apart, and pushes his dick harshly into you. Boneless, you lay there, moaning and taking it, unable to say anything coherent except for Frankie’s name. Your boyfriend presses your legs even further towards your shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he fucks into you hard and fast, Santi’s cum forced out of you with every snap of Frankie’s hips.

“God, you look like such a goddess right now,” Frankie babbles, nearly snarling, “so full of cum. You like that? You want me to fill you up good? You’re gonna be leaking our cum for days, querida.”

“Yes, Frankie, yes,” you moan, “please fill me up. I love your cum in me. I wanna be so full of both of you.”

With a shout, Frankie bares his teeth and comes, getting as deep as possible and filling up your cunt just like he promised. You feel his cum thick and hot in you, triggering another moan.

Frankie drops your knees back down to the bed, nearly collapsing down against your chest while the two of you pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths. Looking over, you spot Santi sitting up at the corner of the bed, looking disheveled but utterly sated, his now-soft cock still shiny with lube and your combined releases.

You reach your hand out to him, and he crawls towards you, slotting himself next to one side, while Frankie hisses as he pulls out of you and lays next to you on your other side. He smothers your neck and face with kisses, and you giggle, feeling Santi pepper kisses across the top of your head and stroking the underside of your breast affectionately with his thumb.

You let out a contented sigh. “Wow, that was…”

Frankie hums out an “incredible” at the exact same time Santi rumbles a “so fucking good” to complete your statement, which makes the three of you laugh. Giggles subsiding, something they said in the heat of the moment suddenly pops into your mind.

“Wait a second,” you say as you sit up. Both men lazily look up at you, faces blissed out, waiting for your question. “Frankie, you said, ‘just like old times’... How many times have you double teamed with Santi?”

The two of them look at each other with nearly identical smirks. Santi pipes up first. “Well, back in our Army grunt days,” he explains, “when we’d go on leave together, we kind of had this habit of teaming up to pick up women.” Your jaw drops slightly, and Santi looks amused at your shock.

“It was a fairly effective strategy,” Frankie continues. “Trying to land a girl alone was a crapshoot. But with the both of us offering her a night to remember?” Frankie huffs. “It seemed like fantasy fulfillment for almost every woman we fucked together.”

Your eyes rake over the two of them, gloriously naked and handsome as ever, in bed with you. Yeah, you can see the appeal.

“Okay, but who came up with the idea?” You ask, then immediately put up a hand into the air. “WAIT, no, I know exactly who… Santi, you slut!”

Frankie lets out a loud bark of a laugh as Santi rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed.

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t benefit from it, idiota!” Santi grumbles. Frankie reaches over, finally successfully ruffling Santi’s hair. Santi flinches and bats Frankie’s hand away, making you shake with laughter as you lounge in the post-coital haze with your boyfriend and his best friend. You don’t blame those women they slept with one bit. This was a night you will surely remember.

No pressure tags: @mermaidgirl30 @legendary-pink-dot @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem @arcanefox207 @campingwiththecharmings @exquisit3corpse @gutsby @honeyedmiller @lavendertales @lu62 @luxurychristmaspudding @ozarkthedog @qveerthe0ry @swiftispunk @sheepdogchick3 @thatshortgirlwithglasses @wannab-urs @musings-of-a-rose

#joel miller #frankie morales #santiago garcia #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales #joel miller x f!reader x santiago garcia #joel miller smut #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction

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canisguts · 27 days ago

Text

greenie

pairings: platonic ted x gender neutral reader, platonic schlatt x gender neutral reader

pronouns used: they/them

summary: schlatt + ted helping you through a green-out (separate drabbles)

trigger warnings: vomiting, greening out, marijuana

w.c: 1,018

ted nivison

you knew you were going to green out; you hadn’t smoked in weeks. but you still overdid yourself, smoking a joint and a half with your close friend, ted nivison.

he knew almost immediately when your voice trailed off that you were gonna green. so, like the good friend he was, he got up from his seat and went to the kitchen to fetch you some snacks and aplenty of water before coming back out to the living room.

“here,” he pressed the bottle of water against your cheek until you grabbed it from him, “drink up.” setting the snacks on the table in front of you, he brought a hand to the crown of your spine and massaged gently.

you hummed a ‘thank you’, taking slow gulps of water as he continued to alleviate your anxiety.

after a few moments, you tried to munch on some crackers. but, to your misfortune, your mind rejected it, believing that if you ate anything you’d get sick immediately. though, with a bit of encouragement from ted, you took a small bite and chased it down with water.

it wasn’t too long after that you were hunched over the toilet, ted kneeling next to you with a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently as a way to comfort you. you hadn’t thrown up yet; you were mostly just dry heaving. but it still freaked you the fuck out.

“teddy...?” your voice was dry and ragged. you could’ve sworn you tasted your snack from last week in your saliva. ted squeezed your shoulder again, moving his other hand up and down your spine.

“’m right here, dude. i've got you.”

you took a deep, shaky breath, reaching for the bottled water on the bathroom sink and taking a drink. “god, i feel like i'm gonna die.” you propped your elbow on the toilet seat, leaning against your palm for support. “can you, um... can you turn on--”

before you could finish your sentence, ted was already pulling out his phone to go to your spotify account. you laughed dryly when you heard ‘call this # now’ by the garden play from the speakerphone.

“you know me so well.” you hummed. ted chuckled.

“i’d hope so, you’re my best friend.”

your heart melted at hearing that. “you’re my best friend, too.”

you threw up almost immediately after that, heaving your guts out while ted pulled your hair away from your face while simultaneously rubbing your back as a form of comfort.

“there you go, dude, there you go.”

you couldn’t handle the smell; it was wafting up into your nostrils and making you want to throw up more. “fuck, this sucks.”

ted pulled out some kleenex from its box, wiping the gunk-filled saliva off of your chin.

“i know, i know. you're doing great though, dude, just try to relax.” he motioned to the bottle water; you nodded, and he grabbed it, twisting the cap off and putting it to your lips. you reached your hand up, but he shook his head.

“i got it, just... open your mouth.”

you do so, ted pouring some water in slowly. you cringed at the taste of the acidic spit mixing with the water and washing down your throat.

“that’s fuckin’ rancid, jesus fuck.”

ted chuckled softly brushing your cheek with the pad of his thumb gently. “you feel a little better though, don’t you?”

you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “yeah.”

after a few more minutes of hunching over the toilet in case you threw up again, you were in bed with ted, scrolling through netflix to find something to watch. you leaned against ted, resting your head on his shoulder with a contented hum. he smiled, wrapping an arm around you and clicking on one of your favorite shows.

“teddy?” you whispered; he hummed in response. “thank you.”

ted smiled and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

“anytime.”

jschlatt

"fuck...”

you're hunched over the toilet, dry heaving your guts out. you didn’t understand why you were so close to greening; you didn’t even get that high.

or, at least that’s what you thought. in reality, you’d gotten pretty fucked up, and the little voice in the back of your conscience knew it; you were just in denial.

a knock wrapped against the bathroom door, and you didn’t even need to guess who was on the other side before it opened.

“hey, greenie, food and water.” schlatt said, setting the snacks down on the sink counter before handing you the bottled water. “drink up.”

you reached out and grabbed it, thankful that he’d already unscrewed the cap as you drank. schlatt, big arms crossed over his chest, can’t help but chuckle.

“jesus christ, you’re fucked.”

you groaned, flipping him the bird. “get fucked.”

“hey, don’t gimme that. you're the one that went ham on the weed.”

“i didn’t smoke that much!”

schlatt laughed in disbelief. “not that much? you had three and a half joints, dumbass!”

you broke out into a small fit of dry laughter, still hunched over the toilet.

“it’s not usually this bad.” you defended, taking another swig of water.

schlatt huffed. “coulda fooled me.”

after a few more minutes of him distracting you, you finally had your ‘cleansing barf’, schlatt having to pull your hair into a half-done bun as you hacked up whatever snacks you’d eaten earlier.

you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the vomiting subsided. schlatt patted your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before speaking,

“think you can move?”

“nuh-uh.” you mumbled.

“well, you’re gonna have to.”

after a few moments of back and forth, he finally got you into bed, head in his lap as he scrolled through youtube, trying to find some random video to play. his hand patted your head, playing with your hair as he finally chose a video. you hummed, eyes puffy and half-lidded.

“mm, schlatt?” you muttered; he hummed in response. “thank you.”

you couldn’t see his face from where you were laying, but you knew there was a small smile pulling at his lips.

“yeah, don’t mention it.”

———

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! uh, i realize i never got that birthday schlatt fic out like i said i was going to, and i dunno if it's tooooo late for one or not, but i might do like a birthday-reader fic or something with him + maybe ted to make up for it.

#jschlatt #chuckle sandwich #jschlatt x you #ted nivison #jschlatt x reader #canisguts.fics #ted nivison x reader #chuckle sammy #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader #ted nivision x reader #ted nivison x you #chuckle clips #sleep deprived podcast #sdp

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berylcups · 3 months ago

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haiiiii :3 could i perchance request some melone headcanons......... any kind of headcanons, that's totally up to you!! im in need of more content of my favorite purple haired freak :3

Melone HCs?! Now how can I say no to that? 😄 I’ve thought long and hard about this purple blorbo and squeezed all of my thoughts out on here! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of this adorable freak! 💜 Beryl

🍈Melone HCs🍈

CW: This IS Melone we’re talking about so…. Beware the lewdness!

Notes: this is technically number 2 in my list but I thought I’d send this one out first since it got completed first. And it will give you all something to nibble on while I finish up number 1 and start on number 3! 😄 I hope you all enjoy ! 💜 Beryl

This guy sucks at cooking. The most he can do is microwave ramen, Mac and cheese, and boil pasta. 😭

He genuinely thinks pineapple is an ok topping for a pizza. Not bad not great…just OK. The squad is offended and speechless about his apathy of fruit being on a pizza . But his rebuttal is-tomato is a fruit and it’s on a pizza. Someone needs to hold Ghiaccio back because he’s ready to THROW HANDS.🙌

He’s the biggest Anti-hydro homie ever. He HATES drinking plain water. 💧 He only drinks coffee, tea, soda, energy drinks, juice, and alcohol. How does he have clear skin?! He uses lots of trendy face creams and just has good genetics. Lucky bastard.😩

He thinks cola and root beer is the nastiest drink imaginable. He calls it the “black bile” based off the 4 humors of the human body.

He forgets to eat…It’s so bad that he gets a little snarky and Ghiaccio kindly reminds him by saying “oi Melone! Quit acting like a cunt and go eat something for fucks sake!”

He stays up ridiculously late. If he’s not pulling an all-nighter, he’s going to bed by 4am.

He sleeps in his underwear…and it’s a thong. 😳 he used to sleep nude but he also sleeps walks occasionally and nobody wants to see his junk so the team forced him to AT LEAST sleep in underwear!

Believe it or not, his natural hair color is purple! He only dyed it blonde to disguise himself for a mission.

He lost his tonsils from getting too many strep throat infections as a kid. He wanted to keep the removed tonsils but his mom said no. 😞

He’s not hairy but he does wax his entire body. No razor, no hair removal creams…just good ol wax. Ouch. 😬 his skin is as smooth as a dolphin.

His perfume/cologne smells like cucumber melon, green tea, and a citrus blend. Mmm…He’s fruity smelling!

He has a insane 4-5 step system when he washes his hair. He’s used to the warm water going cold on him in the middle of his showering routine. He must put up with the chills in order to have the best hair in the squad! …illuso totally isn’t seething with jealousy btw.

Melone was born and raised in Venezia with Ghiaccio as his best friend growing up. His venetian accent isn’t heavy like Ghiaccios.

He’s 25 years old and identifies as nonbinary. Melone is pretty lax with his pronouns but identifies as they/them it/its and he/him.

His sexuality? It’s yes please! 😄 He’s on board to get down with anyone! He has no preference when it comes to gender…you just need to have an open mind! Although, there are bonus points to be given out if you’re physically able (and consenting) to bear children. If not, he definitely won’t hold it against you! He’s DTF and ready to sweep you off your feet!

This guy has no ass but he can dance like he has one. Twerking and grinding his way at the club hopefully into someone’s pants. 😳

This inhuman human can swallow a banana WHOLE. He has no gag reflex, the dentists love him. Take that information for what you will.

He absolutely HATES snakes. Just the sight of them will make him gag 😭. He’s cool with other reptiles though. Just keep snakes away from him. 🐍

He can’t tell what he likes more-cats or dogs. He likes cats because they are independent and clean but…they like to scratch. He likes dogs because they’re loyal and friendly but… they can poo everywhere. It’s a difficult decision for him to decide! He’ll settle with a reptile like a chameleon. 🦎

He went to university for Botanical studies. He has a hobby for horticulture and beekeeping.

He also dabbles in astrology and reading fortunes through palm reading. (Usually by licking your hand 😬)

He has shaky hands. He doesn’t have great dexterity due to all the caffeine he drinks. He wants to paint his nails but it always looks messy. 😬 so he’s stuck using clear nail polish unless he has enough money to go to the nail salon. 💅

He’s an avid video gamer. His console of choice is the PC, but isn’t interested the console vrs PC wars. If there’s a game he likes and it’s only available on a certain platform, he’s going to get it. Ghiaccio, Formaggio, and Pesci are welcome to his consoles but they need their own controller. He doesn’t want no cheeto hands in his squeaky clean controllers! (This is mostly a rule for formaggio since he snacks and plays.) And no touching Melones laptop! That’s his baby—Babyface. And there’s cursed things you might find on there. 🥴

He’s the best at rhythm games while Ghiaccio is the best at racing games. They both rival each other when it comes to puzzle games.

🔥 Spicy HCs 🔥

According to him, the first time he ever got an erection was when he saw a high heel shoe ad in his moms Vogue Italia. He stole that page and “discovered “ himself. 😳 his mom did catch him and she tells this embarrassing story to her friends and family and social gatherings. Yikes 😬

This guy eats ass/pussy like groceries. Like a man who hasn’t eaten in DAYS. He’s a part of the clean plate club if you know what I mean. 😏 you don’t? Well uh… he good at oral idk 🤷‍♀️

Majority of the time he is a bottom. He’ll dom if you want him to. He’s a slut he’ll do ANYTHING you want.

His top kinks are feet, latex, body worship, and breeding (giving and receiving).

His favorite position is doggy, reverse cowgirl, and the classic mating press. This goes for him and his partner.

His favorite times to do it is shower time and when you both wake up. There’s just something about lazily screwing you from behind as he spoons you. It’s his drug and reason for living.

Despite his promiscuous demeanor he doesn’t have one night stands often. He much rather find his soulmate.

He prefers to only use surrogates for babyface that he deems “human trash “. The most toxic of the toxic cruelest ueterus havers. He would never use a good person as materials for his stand. He doesn’t have the heart to believe it or not. His apathy only extends to violent cruel people.

When he finds someone he’s interested in he falls hard. He does want to fuck them ASAP but he wants to treat them like the monarch like they are.

King of aftercare! He’s going to talk sweetly to you and cuddle with you. He’s gonna tend to your bruises, Make a bath for you, clean his fluids off of you, make you something to drink…anything you want 💜

More than likely you will probably be bruising him since he loves being your bottom, but he will still try to give you aftercare after you rode him for over an hour straight. 😅 Be firm and tell him no and give him the same care he gives you. You’ll melt his heart!

#jjba #jjba part 5 #la squadra #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #minors dni #la squadra esecuzioni #jjba melone x reader #jojo melone x reader #jjba melone #jojo melone #Beryl HCs

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childofsardior · 3 months ago

Text

"It's max-power Ludwig time, baby!" but it's my very self-indulgent take on him for my personal AU!

I'm going to talk about my personal version of Ludwig related to my very self-indulgent AU - so I'll warn you: you're going to find LOT of comfort/self-indulgent details and stuff here! Canon x OC included!

↓↓↓ Prepare for the infodump below!! ↓↓↓

General Info:

Full name: Ludwig von Koopa. He specifically put the "von" there instead of "van" to sound more like a noble. Chose this name after one of his favorite Human World's composers (after trying out a few different ones) when he was around 7 and stuck with it - yes, Luddy's been a musical nerd since he was an hatchling.

Gender and pronouns: He's a trans man. Pronouns are he/him. Very aware of this since he was very small, started to correct people with his chosen name(s) and right pronouns as soon as he realized that they were all wrong, and probably stupid from his point of view, even his mother - he had to bite her a couple of times before she understood it wasn't a game. Since Tarrasquins are related to dragons, his transition was a bit different from most species. Nowdays he almost never talks about his queer background, except made for people he blindly trust like his siblings - for occasional gender-related or name-related jokes, especially with Lemmy - or with his GF, usually for the same reasons. He's also confident enough to indulge in typically "feminine" behaviours time to time, without feeling ashamed, especially when hanging out with his sister Wendy. He's Ludwig von Koopa after all, he doesn't gives s**t about other people's opinions.

Sexuality: He doesn't like to use labels, but if asked to pick the closest one to describe himself Lud would probably say "something close to pansexual, but only with people smart and sharp enough to catch my attention." Dated a guy when they were teen, for a while. Now he's dating a girl named Estrela. If Estrela was a guy or an enby-koopa, he would litterally not care.

Age: He is currently 19 and a half (in "canonical" years) and the oldest among his siblings. Considering my Royal Koopas maturing faster than Humans and similar creatures during their first 25 years of life, you could compare Ludwig to a 21-23 years old Human in terms of mental maturity. (Could not say the same about sentimental maturity, but only 'cause Ludwig's always been a bit troubled in sharing genuine feelings even with trusted pals, and he has yet to learn how to manage it. But this is has nothing to do with his species development nor his age.) Birthday is November 12th (Scorpio).

Species: Tarrasquin (also known as "Royal Koopas" or "Dragon-Turtles") - that happens to be a powerful and rare species related both to Koopas and Dragons. The lack of horns at a young age and the number of spikes on the shell may point to the subspecies known as Plains/Field Tarrasquin, while some other details could suggest a "mix" with the Vulcanic bloodline. In addition, all the Koopalings seem to share an innate inclination toward magic and some other unusual details never found before in Tarrasquins, such as tail feathers or natural armors protecting the limbs, along with peculiar tiny gem-like scales scattered around their bodies in different patterns.

Physical appearance: He's a yellow-scaled Tarrasquin, resembling mostly the Vulcanic subspecies like Bowser. He's got blue long hair and tail feathers along with a sapphire-colored spiked shell. He has gray-blue eyes, and a single Royal Fang in the middle of his upper jaw - even if a couple of smaller Royal Fangs are recently growing on the sides of his mouth. Like most of his siblings, his head and shoulders are covedered of green scales/skin, and he also has some of it over the back of his hands. Sapphire-like scales appear all around his body, four of which can be clearly seen on his cheeks. He's quite short for his age, but if you compare him to the others you can guess he's among the oldest siblings, considering his body proportions and a more mature appearance.

Personality: Ludwig's arrogance is quite famous around the Dark Lands. He's extremely full of himself, and doesn't miss an occasion to remember you how superior he is. This is how most people see him from the distance. Actually, Ludwig's character is quite more complex than that. He surely likes to mantain his "I'm clearly better than any of you" mask, especially with his enemies, but he's actually way more chill than that if you start to know him - and if he consideres you your equal, he can actually show his softer and sillier side to you, and prove himself a nice company. He doesn't know what proper "anxiety" is, but he's quite nervous and always on the edge - trying to be perfect, to prove himself and his siblings to be the best leader, to prove everyone (but mostly himself, again) he's a great and talented artist and musician, and so on. He's also a bit lunatic, and had to train himself to be patient during the years, considering the amount of tiny Dragon-Turtles running and creating chaos around him. It's not so common for an insult to land on him - since he rarely cares about other people's opinions, even when they have actual good opinions about him - but when it happens he could grow red with anger or just give the cold-shoulders treathment for a while, depending on who you are. He also rarely feel completely calm or relaxed, his mind always trying to fix some problem or coming up with something new even on background, but from time to time he needs a break too and will probably spend some days playing some instrument in his room without a purpose, or playing video games alone or with Larry and Iggy, like he used to do a lot as a kid. Last but not least: he kinda looks like a guy that never cries or gets emotional, but it's inaccurate. Ludwig rarely cries or weep nowdays, but when he does it's always dramatic and theatrical - even his sibs become a bit afraid of him, never knowing what to say or how to help, when he breaks like that; he'll probably just go to his room playing his piano while crying until he's too tired to continue and probably will just fall asleep. But on the brighter emotions, he is also very much easier to be moved by kind actions than it seems. If any of the people he cares about surprise him with a special gift for his birthday, or prepare something cute thinking about what he loves most, or even just giving him a drawing about him and Junior conquering the Sky Kingdom together - this happened for Lud's 18th birthday, and was Junior's gift - he will probably be surprised, a little embarassed but mostly filled with a mute joy he'll do his best to hide... probably failing, considering those big wet eyes.

Hobbies and passions: They say he's a kind of prodigy, being so young yet skilled in dozens of different things - from battle and magical techniques to various arts - but the truth is that he works really, really hard for everything he wants to learn. He's a bit jealous of Iggy and Junior to be faster and more intuitive learners than him. His main passion revolves around music since he was a kid, but he actually likes to do A LOT OF STUFF - some in a "I'm sooo good at it" way, some other just as hobbies. He likes to play videogames (and even used to do it on a competitive level for a short while), enjoys TTRPGs with his siblings, likes to paint with spray paint from time to time, knows how to sew, learned how to fence and he's quite proud about it, loves to pose and even compete with his sibs (mostly Roy and Wendy) in some cool-poses showoffs when they all feel to... he also enjoys to hum and sing when happy, and he literally learned to speak German to make an impression with a perfectly-faked accent when needed. A current inside joke in the family is claiming that naming what Ludwig can't do would take less time to talk about what he can do - Iggy's even taking notes every time they find out something new Lud is not capable of - the first thing wrote down is "Luddy can't be humble". Talking about music only, his favorite genre has always been the classical one, but contrary of what everybody around him think, he actually enjoys a lot of other genres and also has a bunch of favorite contemporary singers and bands among his infinite list of musicians he likes or likes to take inspiration from. He just strongly dislikes that sort of "music" that only consist in "random and horrible noises, like the sort of thing that Larry listens to". He can himself play dozens of instrument, mostly are the classical orchestral ones but he knows how to play a bunch of modern and electric instruments too - he was the one learning-while-teaching Lemmy how to play the electric bass and the electric guitar, after all; his favorite and main instrument is the piano, followed with the violin and the cello just after. He likes to compose - or at least, try to - his own stuff since he was 10, just after learning the piano basic from Kamek and Bowser themselves. His own first pieces were not exactly... melodious, and now his "4th Symphony" is a recurring meme his brothers and sister like to tease him about. But nowdays he's getting quite good, and has even started to conduct a small orchestra on his own, all made of young people from the Dark Lands and all around the near Kingdoms. He's also fantasizing about making this passion his future main occupations, maybe as a composer in the film's industry or something like that...?

Relationships:

With his siblings: Being the eldest among 8 has not always been easy. Even if Junior has been mostly raised and educated by Bowser, Kamek and a bunch of loyal servants, the other 6 where very much his responsability after their mother sudden disappearance - of course Kamek and the others were taking care of the newly adopted kids, but you know... they needed time to settle in and Ludwig was their main point of reference for a while. So he had to force himself to grow up even faster than before, in terms of responsabilities and leadership. That said, nowdays he still consider himself the leader of the whole "Koopalings" gang - even if most of his siblings can perfectly take care of themselves and often laugh or complain if Lud tryies to impose himself too much, especially when he's doing that in his presumptuous and arrogant way. Still, when things get hard, they all know that they can ask their big brother for help.

Now, for each relationship with the siblings:

Lemmy: They are in good terms. They do not spend too much time together, but when combined can become the Unsufferable Duo Of the Eldest and literally use their Age Superiority to assert dominancte on the others. Lemmy is also one of the few Ludwig can actually confide in, Lemmy being the biggest heart and probably the more emotional mature in the family - but Lemmy's the one EVERYBODY confides in, so it's a bit of cheating.

Roy: They used to fight often when younger, Roy being the only one bold enough to confront the big bro authority. Now they just respect each other, and while Roy trusts Ludwig's cunning brain, Ludwig can fully trust Roy's loyalty, sharpness and strenght, especially for missions that involves fighting and conquering.

Iggy: They are engaged in a mutual, mostly positive rivalry about who is the real family genius. Spoiler: both are, but in different ways. Iggy is an intuitive type, and learns mostly by watching his sourroundings and experimenting, while Ludwig is a studious type, that prefers knowing all about theory before trying things out. Iggy can't really understand music and arts in general - he enjoys them, but in a very "superficial and bland" way, in Ludwig's opinion - and Ludwig can't understand what is so cool about classyfing rocks, animals and plants, and will never get the green-shelled brother curious hyperfixations. Ludwig is also refusing to aknowledge Iggy's higher IQ score than his. But they can actually work together if needed, especially when some project or blueprint or plan needs full-brain power.

Wendy: They get along very well. Their shared passion for music is a good start - when Ludwig tries to compose something more "modern" than usual, it's always to have Wendy singing along with him playing the piano or the violin - but they can generally do various things together and enjoy their mutual company - from going to the SPA to planning the conquest of the next Kingdom. Also, Wendy is probably the only one among them Lud doesn't dare to anger, and also the only one he consider *almost* equal to him.

Morton: Ludwig loves Morton's blind obedience. Then if he thinks too hard about it, he feels bad. Actually, Morton follows Ludwig's lead because he trusts his brother, not because he's a sort of perfectly obedient puppy like some other brother jokes about. The two are in neutral-good terms. They do not spend much time together normally, but during missions Ludwig can count on Morton's natural protective nature to be sure the younger ones won't get too hurt, especially Junior - and this applies to some of the older siblings as well, from time to time.

Larry: The relationship between the two is a bit strange. Like the most of the group, Ludwig can't really stand Larry for too long - the latter is a 13-years-old Royal Koopa acting as an average 13-years-old Human boy most of the times - but as the Big Brother he must set a good example and hide his irritation while he tries to teach his younger brother the art of war and such. But it's hard. Larry is easily distracted and doesn't like to listen to others anyway. Even if Lud manages to get his attention, the azure brother will probably stay on his cellphone all the time. Larry loves to work with and actually playing electronic/techno music, but also trash and YouPipe-worth-meme-songs, "an insult to real music" in Ludwig's opinion. Larry also wants to prove himself as a good leader for the group, even if "lacking with basic leadership knowledge", and tries to fight with Ludwig about it from time to time. When tired or in need of a day off, Ludwig allows Larry to "play the leader for a while", knowing that Wendy or Roy will actually take the real role instead.

Bowser Junior: This one is a complex field to navigate, full of bitterness and mixed feelings. Junior being the only biological child of Bowser makes him the official Heir, but also, somehow, more "important" than the others in terms of social rank and authority. And Ludwig doesn't like this. He can't truly behave normally around Junior; he hates the fact that a child has the right to tell him what to do, especially when he does so in a very bratty and unsufferable way - luckily, Junior is growing up nicer than in the past, but still a kid remains. Ludwig is also jealous of Jr. even if he's never going to admit it aloud, since the little brother still has one parent to take care of him and love him, and this parent is the King of the Koopas himself. "If only I was Bowser's son..." he finds himself thinking about sometimes, but tries not to elaborate further. Ludwig tries to avoid Junior when he can, and Junior does the same since he doesn't like the way Ludwig yaps about everything. But...! Very recently the two have started getting along a bit more. Ludwig noticed Junior proving himself to be much more clever and empathic than he thought, and is now searching for something in common to share. Lud tried to talk Jr into the world of music like he did with most of his siblings, but hasn't been very successful yet. Junior on the other hand convinced his blue brother to paint with him, and Lud discovered that, in fact, he likes it. So they do paint together, from time to time, or wander with Iggy, Morton and Larry around the Dark Lands metro to draw fancy graffiti all together. Ludwig too needs to feel again like a kid or at least a teen time to time.

* * *

With King Bowser: Ludwig is one of the few Koopalings that not address to Lord Bowser as a "father". He was almost 10 years old when they all were officially adopted by the Royal Family, and always saw the King as "the King". He is very loyal to the Crown and likes to think about himself as Bowser's first and most trusted general, and always showes his most serious and adult size when reporting to him. On the other hand, Ludwig feels a bit nervous and insecure in everyday life situations he spends along with the adoptive parent, when Bowser's just acting as Dad-Bowser and not as King-Bowser-Koopa. Behind his back, Bowser desperately and secretly hopes Ludwig will start addressing him as "dad" one day.

With his mother: He had a very good relationship with his mom (OC)- taken aside that short period of time she couldn't understand why he wanted to be "addressed as a boy" - but it ended well anyway. He also liked to think of himself as their mom's favorite child. Now he doesn't want to talk about her, especially with Junior.

With his girlfriend: He and Estrela (OC) met almost a couple of years ago in Ludwig's personal orchestra, and they have been dating for one year now. Before meeting Estrela, Lud had a poor opinion on Koopa Troopas/Common Koopas in general, especially if civilians or commoners. Then he met this super skilled violist, they started to flirt a bit after some time but then Ludwig kind-of-insulted her for trying to reach "a Royal" and... well, she decided to make him pay for that, planning something quite "funny", and in the end Estrela proved the Royal Koopa that even "commoners" can outsmart the "great Ludwig von Koopa". He was startled by this to the point he totally fell in love. They are both enjoying their relationship now, sharing interests and passions and all, joking all the time and being silly together when none can judge them, even if Luddy still has to learn to be less arrogant with his loved ones - lukily for both he's doing enough progresses already to prevent the relationship to become toxic or bad. Ludwig loves Estrela's strong personality and the fact that she can literally - and will likley, if needed - stand up to him from her 1,40 m (around 4.5 ft) of height and cute Common Koopa appearance. And he loves the way she plays the viola, of course. In his mind, maybe influenced by Lord Bowser's way to think, he's already picturing is future wedding... along with their royal palace and personal realm in the Kingom of the Sky.

Relationship with the Mario Bros., Princess Peach and the Mushroom Kingom in general: He strongly dislikes the two plumbers, and do not approve his sib Lemmy's friendship with them. He mostly hates Mario, considering him the real threat among the two. He would very unlikely call a truce between the Koopalings and the two Humans, unless it was his last option. Peach knows him since he hatched - and she tries her best to treat well the young Royal Koopa siblings, since she used to know their mother - but he doesn't really care about this, claming that since he can't remember it, it doesn't count. He is not very excited by the possibility to have Peach as their step-mother, but during her forced staying at Bowser's place after the occasional kidnapping, he sometimes asks her if she wants to take a look at his last music sheets or if she wants to listen to some of his new pieces. And for the Mushroom Kingdom, he merely saw it as the future Dark Lands' personal granary until he met his GF, who's from said Kingdom. Now he is a bit more aware of it, and nervous about eventual future attacks King Bowser could plan against it.

Peculiarities & co.

Ambidextrous: He trained himself to be almost perfectly hambidextrous, mostly thanks to his piano training. Nobody remembers if he was naturally right or left-handed in the beginning.

Senses: In contrast to what his name could suggest, his sharpest sense is hearing - he can not only hear a whisper on the other side of the royal dining room, especially if it's about him or something he may be interested in, but also got an almost-perfect pitch. If he looks like he didn't hear you, he was either too concentrated on his own toughts or just... blantantly ignoring you.

Body quirks and special abilities: He is way lighter than it looks like, probably due his shell peculiar conformation and unusual lightness, and sometimes it even seems like gravity isn't working on him as it should - he can in fact jump quite hight, flutter jump and even floating in the air for a short time when fighting. He can also walk on clouds without any power-ups or magic, a privilege usually related to winged or sky-born creatures only, such as Paratroopas or Lakitus. Nobody seems to know why, since Ludwig has no wings (even if he secretly wishes he had) and such. Last but not least, he is also able to control thunders with his own hands when things get really hard - in a similar way Luigi can do after knowing the secret technique in Mario&Luigi Superstar Saga.

Random Facts:

His Royal Fang is one of his weak points. He doesn't really like it, and mostly tries to ignore the fact that, of all the possible Fang patterns, *that* specific one happened to him. Mostly, it makes it hard to play woodwinds instruments - he only plays his portable harmonica without much trouble - drinking from everyday glasses - he almost always drink from straws, but gets easily embarassed if he needs to order one when dining in a fancy restaurant - and kissing his GF. This one specifically frustrates him a lot.

His GF finds his Royal Fang cute.

Like most Tarrasquins, he can purr. But since purring only occurs when they are extremely satisfied or happy or comfortable, it's very rare to hear him purr.

He's base respect for any other living creature not related to him is 0, especially with Goombas or other "simpler species". Once beated, outsmarted or both at the same time, he will probably reconsiderate your existance and include your kind in his "this one earned my respect" list. Hopefully, he'll grow out of this when he gets older and wiser.

He owns something like 14 pianos (one of which is possessed), around his various fortress and all. He wanted a super fancy piano for his 18th birthday, like one with a custom color, made by hand and with his name engraved in gold on the front of it, from the best piano brand of the world. Bowser gifted him a huge, golden pipe organ instead, thinking it would have been cooler.

Ludwig is scared as heck of pipe organs.

In the end, Kamek was the one gifting him his "best piano". Bowser is the one that loves to play it the most.

Ludwig is also scared of deep water. That is funny considering he once piloted a submarine. If asked, he will give a bunch of explanations about that claming that staying inside an advanced submarine is very different from swimming in open sea where you can't see nothing under you. Plus, your hair can't get wet as long as you remain inside of the submarine. His brothers and sister often speculate about how to convince their big brother to learn how to swim.

He likes to act fancy and classy when he's at social events and similar. His pompous attitude helps a lot with that. But he has the tendency of stain his clothing without noticing and does so almost every single time he dines out.

Even with the adult and serious appearance, he would never give up French Fries when there is the option in the menu.

He can also legally buy and drink alchool now, following Dark Land's laws, but even if he enjoys some champagne from time to time, he's more a juice type. His favorite one is orange juice, and always keeps a bottle of it near before an all-day-playing-music session.

He hated brushing his hair when he was a kid, and hated even more the idea of cutting it. His mother gave up when he was 3, and Kamek and some servants tried to run after him once, following the little blue rascal around the whole castle for the whole evening. Kamek was the one that eventually convinced him into taking care of his curly bush of blue feathers - but it took him 2 years.

His natural hair is actually curly, like his mother's was. He straightenes it with an hair straightener after every bath, and uses tons of hair spray every morning to recreate in his iconic hairstyle. This hairstyle was actually heavily inspired by Madame Flurrie's one, after a 12-years-old Ludwig watched one of her theatrical perfomance (on TV) for the first time. He was fascinated by her hair that looked like wings and looked very elegant at the same time, and decided he would have based his personality around that style for the next years.

He didn't know at the time that that specific winged hairstyle was very popular among actors and artist of a certain level, especially from the musical field. When he found out, he was even more amused and claimed it was "destiny" that his tastes happened to be so refined and elegant.

Only recently Lud started to try out new hairstyles, or to be more accurate, some "custom variants of his classic one". He likes to keep them looser when conducting his orchestra or playing in public. He keeps it "sharper" for fights. He would NEVER tie them up.

His GF actually loves when Lud has uncombed hair, and thinks he's way cuter this way. He hates it.

He also loves and hates being called "cute". He actually got angry when Estrela called him "cute" or "adorable" the first times. Now he secretely enjoys it, but still gets quite embarassed.

He'll grow a tuft of feathers under his chin when he'll grow up. Since it's not too common for Koopas to grow facial hair, he will keep it with pride and add it to his style.

When he's sourrounded by his siblings when in need of some peace but can't escape the situation, he takes his professional headphones and put on some classical concerts, german heavy metal music by unknown indie bands or Pure Cosmic Silence, depending how desperate he is.

He loves the smell of ginger. He also likes the smell of gingerbread. One time he ordered a ginger perfume, but the store mixed his order and sent him a very unusual gingerbead perfume instead. He tried it anyway and found it amusing. He would now put gingerbread perfume on himself from time to time. He claims it's a peculiar but great scent, just like him. His siblings mostly thinks he smells like a cookie.

He is also secretly almost-parent-like proud of his siblings any time they manage to do well something he teached them first. This applies mostly with Larry and Junior, especially for the latter being a very quick learner.

He sometimes has a recurrent dream in which he finds out he's actually an only child and goes to party just after. For some *unknown* reasons this mostly happens after spending a very long and tiring day with Junior or Roy.

Four violinists in his orchestra are Piranha Plants, named, respectively, "Todd, Justin, Scott and Ashby". They joined Ludwig's orchestra in an attempt to escape military service, but they didn't know how to play a single thing at first. With time, the quartet became very good with the violin. They will still be present in Ludwig's personal orchestra when he will be a professional composer, as some of the best musicians of the orchestra.

He really dislikes the harpsichord as an instrument. There is not a specific reason about that, he just... really doesn't like the sound it makes, and thinks of it as an overrated baroque instrument. His GF really likes it instead, and they sometimes have silly fights about that.

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