#or rather. if they think it would be a bad idea for me to yank them. bc if its not a bad idea? theyre going byebye

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Spinoff Story Vampire & Vampire Hunter part 1

Warnings: severe silver poisoning of vampire, ambush attack, fight scene

(Highly recommend reading the original series first for better context for those who haven't seen it yet - this spinoff story takes place 5 years after the original story ends)

I got OVERWHELMING requests for a spinoff/bonus story, so here it is! :)

Mallory wrung his hands anxiously as he walked up the long driveway to an old mansion. It gave him more time to think about exactly how bad of an idea this was. What was he thinking, coming here?!

But… he needed help. And the type of help he needed only one person could provide. The danger he was up against was one no human could overcome.

Once he reached the giant wooden door at the front he stood and stared for a long five minutes. He could still turn tail and run…

…But he didn't. It wasn't merely his own life on the line. There was a lot more at stake. He needed this to work.

He lifted his hand, hesitated, then steeled his nerves and knocked lightly. The door opened a heartbeat later, and a frighteningly familiar figure stood before him. He instinctively wanted to recoil, and only managed not to flinch in fear by sheer willpower alone, even though he already knew who would be answering the door in advance. It was different to see him in person again. The cause of so much pain and trauma.

"Well, well, what a surprise. What has become of the famed hunter and why is it on my doorstep?" Alex's polished voice drawled. The vampire's eyes were wide with surprise, before they narrowed suspiciously. "Are you alone?" He growled, his voice losing its teasing edge.

Mallory knew a trap when he heard one. The vampire would be able to tell from his heartbeat if he was lying. And he was most definitely not alone.

"I came here because we need to talk," he said with a sigh, dodging the loaded question entirely.

Alex tilted his head slowly to the side and stared at him in such a distinctly predatory way it made Mallory shiver, like a cat locking sights on an interesting piece of prey. "Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "You must be rather desperate, to come to me for help. Why risk me ripping your throat out... unless your situation was dire?"

"It certainly is a serious matter," Mallory replied, and subtly shifted to the side a little, no longer facing Alex head-on.

But Alex didn't miss it, his pupils sharpening. "What game are you playing, human?" He hissed, his voice dropping low and dangerous. "Why are you really here?"

Mallory froze, mouth dry. He was caught. "I really do need your help," he said, but his voice came out thinner than before, more nervous. "...But probably not in a way you'll approve of." What was taking so long...?

Alex's piercing gaze was zeroed in on him, cold and calculating, until the snap of a twig in the forest behind him gave it all away. Alex's eyes went huge in realization. But there wasn't time for even a fast vampire like him to react.

Three loud bangs, followed by three objects whistling through the air, and Alex jerked backward in the doorway, roaring in pain, three feathered darts lodging in his front with puffs of silver dust.

Alex yanked the darts out and smashed them on the floor, before lunging straight at Mallory with hands outstretched, skin sizzling everywhere the silver dust had touched him. His eyes were dark with white-hot rage.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He snarled angrily.

Mallory barely sprung out of reach in time to avoid the attack, darting around him and bolting into the mansion.

Predictably, Alex whirled around to pursue, snapping and hissing like a feral animal, and two more darts zipped out of the forest to hit him in the back of his shoulder. He howled in agony, clawing the darts out of his skin before slamming the door shut to keep more darts from finding their marks. Then he spun back toward Mallory, who was cautiously backing away from the enraged vampire.

"What... was... THAT?" Alex barked viciously, and took a lurching step toward the hunter -- stumbling.

Mallory had the audacity to look a little guilty. "Sorry, but I didn't trust you to hear me out without trying to imprison me again -- so I took some precautions."

"PRECAUTIONS?!" Alex shrieked indignantly. "You call THIS 'precautions'?! This is a murder attempt!" He rushed forward and caught Mallory by surprise, charging his shoulder into him and tackling the human to the floor, pinning him down with a hand on each wrist holding them to the floor above his head.

The vampire was absolutely livid, eyes blazing as he glared down at Mallory. "I warned you what would happen if you returned here with other hunters," he snarled in his face. "Truce is over. I'm going to rip every last one of your team's human throats out--" his voice ended in a choked cough of air as Mallory kicked him hard in the stomach with both feet, throwing the vampire off him.

"This isn't meant to be a hunt!" Mallory argued defensively, scrambling back up.

Alex sprung back to his feet, but swayed unsteady, brow furrowed with dazed confusion. The world was tilting -- why was everything spinning? Silver dust darts were meant to blind and weaken vampires -- but why was his strength fading so fast? It shouldn't be affecting him this severely...

"What did you... do to me?" Alex hissed, voice slurring. It shouldn't have been that easy for the human to throw him off, and his chest tightened with fear -- raw, genuine fear, something so old and foreign he'd forgotten it existed anymore. The fear of not being able to fight back, the fear of no longer holding the power in the room. He stalked menacingly toward Mallory, fangs bared -- but wobbled, lurching and staggering as he tried to attack again with a body that just... wouldn't... cooperate!

Alex took a clumsy swipe at Mallory, but the hunter gave him a hard shove in the chest, and to Alex's own disbelief, he moved with the motion, almost losing his balance entirely. He was usually rigid as a boulder.

"Don't fight me, Alex," Mallory said grimly. "You won't win. Those darts contained silver and heavy doses of Hemlock, which would usually be lethal to humans -- but only acts as a strong sedative to vampires. It won't kill you, I promise."

"You little bastard--" Alex growled through gritted teeth, making another angry lunge for him -- but he crumpled to the floor instead, legs buckling and refusing to support him anymore. His whole body hurt with the silver dust coursing through his veins, suffering severe silver poisoning. And the worst part was, the hunter was right -- it would be agony in the meantime, but it wouldn't be enough to kill him. Only enough to neutralize and incapacitate. But why would he possibly need him alive?

Alex's swirling vision was starting to darken around the edges, and he felt rather than saw Mallory crouch next to him, and heard the door to his own mansion come crashing in -- several other blurry shapes coming to loom over him alongside Mallory. He bared his teeth weakly, breathing harsh and strained.

"Huh, you weren't lying about the vampire," an unfamiliar voice said. "You sure this will work?"

"I suppose we'll find out soon," Mallory's voice answered. "Get him ready to transport back to base."

Alex groaned in protest as he felt cuffs clamp down on his ankles and wrists, restraining him. He mustered all his strength into glaring at Mallory with every ounce of venom he could manage. "I never should have let you go," he hissed. "When I get out of this, I swear to you I will--" he didn't get to finish, as something sharp was forced into his mouth, followed by the feeling of something being strapped to his face.

He was being muzzled, he realized in horror. And now he was helpless and weak at the mercy of humans, of all things. He didn't know what they planned to do with him, but it couldn't be good.

Alex's eyelids slowly slipped shut and his body relaxed against his will, the darkness rushing in to take him, and the sound of the hunters bustling around him soon faded into a dull, static buzz.

He hadn't gotten to finish his threat... but he never lies.

And then his thoughts were no more.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

@tippytappytyping

[four-for-fidelity]

having tooth pain is likely one of the biggest causes of random violence i think

[tomriddleslove]

Pt 4 - Drunk words are sober thoughts.

✩ Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: The one where Pansy organises a dinner party, you’re on the run from Theo, and bad decisions are made. Alternatively: Uncomfortable awkward tension, then smut.

A/N: We aren’t out of the trenches yet. We’ve only dug ourselves deeper with this one.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Please let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the tag list!

MDNI!

Tags: Smut (duh),Drunk sex, PIV, Hair pulling, praise.

Songs: Love survive - Michael Nau

Star Treatment - Arctic Monkeys

The sun filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting an almost heavenly glow on your bed. The warmth was soothing, and you’d almost call it a very peaceful morning.

That is, of course, if you weren’t woken by Pansy yanking the covers off you, tossing them to the side.

You groan sleepily, rolling over as you try to shield your eyes.

“Oh come on! Merlin, you've been asleep for so long! Everyone else is up! I refuse to let you spend all holiday rotting in bed.” She nags, grabbing your arm as she tries to pull you up. You let your body go limp, the dead weight pulling you back onto the bed as you use your free hand to pull a pillow over your head.

“You know Pansy, have you ever considered my idea of a holiday is sleeping in all day?” You mumble and she tuts, grabbing the pillow from you.

“Nonsense. I’ll kill you if we don't make the most of this.”She admonishes, faffing around you like a mother hen as she walks around your shared room with Theodore (who notably wasn't there, his bed made.) She opens your closet and takes the liberty of choosing you an outfit as she flicks through your clothing, speaking again.

“We're going to celebrate the start of this beautiful Holiday I have so kindly provided us with. We’re making dinner and having a small dinner party. Nice clothes, naturally. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore will be making the starters, and Draco, Blaise and I will be making the main, which means you’re in charge of dessert. Consider it a penalty for waking so late.” Pansy explained as she crouched down to sort through your other clothes.

You grumble, muttering childishly under your breath as you sit up, on the edge of your bed as you come to your senses.

“I'm putting poison in yours.” You half-joke, and she isn't phased as she tosses you a floral white sundress and a handful of jewellery. You dodge the assortment of gold sent towards you and you glare at her.

“There. You’ll have to change for dinner but this is good for now. We’re all downstairs, but I sent some of the boys to fetch the ingredients. Chop chop!” She calls out, as she descends down the stairs.

Pansy. She truly tested your patience.

You manage to drag yourself up from the warm confines of your bed as you head over to the bathroom, going to take a shower. You walk past Theodore's bed as you do so, and you see his copy of Little Women lying on his bedside table. Curiosity tugs at you.

It would be bad to take a peek, right? I mean, he did hand it to you that day in the library. Granted, he took it back right after, but surely that implied you could take a look.

You (rather weakly) justify your decision and pick up the book, thumbing through the pages as your eyes scan over the various annotations and underlined passages Theodore had analysed.

One in certain catches your attention. There, messily underlined, is the quote:

“Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.”

Followed by “No. 4” scrawled in Theodore's handwriting. You frown, confusion etched on your face as you try to decipher what the four could possibly mean. You flick through the rest of the book, trying to spot any other instances.

“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”

No. 7

I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, - couldn't help it, you've been so good to me, - I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me; now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer.

No. 5

You couldn't seem to find any rhyme or reason for this labelling. It was simply random parts of the text underlined every now and then with a number next to them, as though some sort of list. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you're itching to look for more when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs snaps you out of it. You quickly shut the book, placing it back down as you grab your dress and towel, dashing into the bathroom. You just manage to lock the bathroom door when you hear the door to your room click open, and you let out a small breath of relief. Your mind is working tirelessly, trying to decipher the cryptic annotations as you take a shower.

You finish off and get dressed in the bathroom, taking your time to avoid Theodore. By your luck, when you unlock the bathroom door and peer out the small gap, Theodore is not there, and you let out a small sigh as you step out.

You put on the jewellery Pansy set out for you and slip on some socks, combing through your wet hair as you dry it lightly. Satisfied with how you looked (you did feel rather pretty, in all honesty), you make your way downstairs.

The kitchen is empty, save for Blaise putting the groceries away into the fridge. You grin as you walk over to join him, his eyes flickering over to you as you walk in.

“Morning. You got your rest, didn't you?” He teases and you shoot him a mocking smile, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” You sigh as you reach for the second bag, helping him put everything away.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask.

“Pansy and Lorenzo went out to get drinks, and I'm pretty sure the rest found some sort of creek or something so I think they went out for a swim,” Blaise says and you hum, nodding.

Come to think of it, you had completely forgotten about the rather surprising development between Blaise and Pansy. You and Lorenzo had bet on it as well. Deciding to pay Pansy back the favour, you begin probing into their little dilemma.

“So Blaise, tell me. What's going on between you and Pansy?” You ask, and he chokes on the coffee he was sipping as he sets the cup down. You open one of the cupboards, storing away a packet of pasta as he looks at you.

“What do you mean?” He responded, and a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Oh come on, don't act all shy now. This whole flirting thing you have going on.” You say, vaguely motioning in his direction as you put some fruits in the fruit bowl resting on the kitchen island.

“There's nothing. Just friend.” He denies, and you turn to him, resting against the island.

“Sure. Just one thing? You're both stubborn fools. Don't let that prevent anything.” You advise, looking at him. You grab an apple, tossing it into the air before catching it as you walk past Blaise, patting him on the back.

“Right now, out. I need to start prepping the dessert.” You say, and for the first time in your life, you see Blaise ever so slightly red.

He playfully grins as he walks out, and you tie your damp hair up as you look through what the boys bought.

You settle on a classic after taking note of the copious amounts of cream cheese the boys had bought (You were reminded to never ever ask them to go shopping, and you'd be sure to remind Pansy the same.)

A salted caramel cheesecake. You decided to make the biscuit base yourself - it would serve as a good way to pass the time seeing as you had the whole day to yourself.

Before you begin cooking, you wander over to the living room. Your eyes settle on a collection of vinyl records in the corner, and you sift through the sleeves, settling on one that doesn't look immediately terrible.

You carefully place the vinyl onto the turntable, the soft crackle of the needle hitting the record filling the room. The sound of a smooth jazz melody starts playing, creating a cosy atmosphere in the kitchen. As the music envelops the space, you begin gathering the ingredients for the biscuit base.

You preheat the oven and begin making the biscuits, sifting flour into the bowl as you work. It's surprisingly relaxing, the villa is empty and you're left to your own devices, humming along to the music as you bake. Sure, you definitely weren't the cleanest baker. A simple biscuit recipe had left you with a white powder coating over the kitchen, stacks of bowls in the sink and somehow, flour on your clothes as well. You huff, dusting down your dress as you place the haphazardly shapen uncooked biscuits into the oven. It didn't matter whether they looked good or not - you'd be crushing them anyway.

It only takes about 15 minutes before the delicious aroma of vanilla fills the kitchen, You're admittedly pleased at just how good they smell, and you can only hope they taste as good as they smell.

Whilst those finish off, you begin making the actual filling of the cake. You reach for one of the bowls when a certain song begins playing, your ears perking up at the sound.

“This is my conquering song

played on a wave so strong

pulled the broke-down ride for far too long”

You lightly sing along to the lyrics, a small smile tugging on your lips as you do so. You had always imagined this song to be blissfully domestic, something you'd willingly play if you were to cook or bake, so the fact you selected it by chance made you oddly happy.

Sometimes it was the little things that count.

With a little pep in your step, you walk around the kitchen as you gather the ingredients. Liberated by the villa having no other occupants, your movements are freer, a small little (unnecessary) spin or a little break to sing along as you cook.

Now, it had been long established that you really did not have the best awareness of your surroundings. This continued to be the case now because you were sure you would have stopped immediately if you had seen Theodore leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, looking over at you.

Unfortunately for you, you did not notice him.

Theodore leans against the doorway, his eyes fixated on you. They always would be, he couldn't not look at you even if he tried to.

A fond smile is tugging at his lips, watching as you lightly sing along to the song. It's offkey, and your impromptu dance moves incorporated with your haphazard baking skills is laughable, but Theodore can only look at you and feel simultaneously so happy yet also so terrified. Terrified because he acknowledges how such a simple sight can't get that smile off his face, and the fact someone has the capability of doing that to him seems daunting. He was scared because, for a brief second, he imagined walking over and helping you. You'd look up at him with that smile of yours.

God, that smile.

You have that little impish look in your eyes, ready to poke fun at him. He does the same with you. The worst thing is if he hadn't fucked up so royally, you could have been doing that.

Instead, he pushes off the doorway to go and help you. The first part goes as expected, you see him and you yelp, spinning around. He knew your ears would turn red, as they usually did when you got embarrassed. Theodore knew you like that.

He knew you'd look at him akin to a deer caught in headlights because your mind would go blank for a second. Theodore knew you like that.

He also knew you well enough to know that, despite his own hopes of your once confused and mortified face breaking into a wide grin, it would instead fall and you would avert your eyes.

Theodore knew you like that.

He hated it.

“Oh. Hey.” You utter, clearing your throat. You berated yourself for always acting so obviously on edge when Theodore was near. He looks down at you with an indescribable look in his eyes before he speaks.

“Hey. Need help?” He asks, and you look around at the messy kitchen, before shaking your head.

You actually did, but you'd be damned if you had to spend more time with Theodore, alone. You'd either end up dead silent or stammering some embarrassing declaration. You couldn't tell which one would be worse.

“Alright.” He mused, looking down at you. He doesn't make any move to leave though, and you're hyper-aware of the fact that he is very close to you.

His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face gently as his thumb brushes against your cheekbone. His hand is there for a second too long, crossing the boundary of what it should have been. Again, it seemed as though everything you and Theodore did crossed that boundary.

“You had flour on your cheek,” he says, and you nod, drawing away your face. You turn around, praying to the gods above that they'd stop torturing you and make Theodore leave. You keep your back to him as you continue cooking, and he seems to finally leave, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You hasten your cooking after that and you're out of the kitchen in no less than 20 minutes with the cheesecake stored in the fridge as you make your way to Pansy’s room. You absolutely would not go back up to yours, as you were sure Theodore was there.

Exactly how long did you plan on running from him?

Hours have passed lazing away on Pansy’s bed, bored out of your mind when she finally returns.

“Finally.” You sassed, sitting up as she raised a brow at you.

“Why are you waiting here?” She asks, and you shrug.

“Can I not miss my friend?” You quip and she eyes you, knowing there must be another reason. She chooses not to probe further, however, joining you on her bed.

“We ought to get ready. I did tell the boys to dress nicely, we’re dignified people.”She chided as she got up, walking over to her closet.

You giggle at her swift change of actions and lean back on her bed, looking over at Pansy.

Her love for micromanaging you often was a negative, but now it could very much be a huge positive.

“Pans… You always know just how to style me right. Can you run up to my room and choose a look for me? I'm hopeless.” You groan, putting your hand on your chin in an exaggerated display of hopelessness. Her eyes light up, as though she was a little kid playing dress up, and she nods.

“Finally, you've come to your senses! I know exactly what I'm getting, wait here.” She gasps, scampering upstairs. You grin, having successfully avoided Theodore once again.

(The answer to the previous question? You'd run from him for a very long time, seemingly.)

Despite her reassurances, Panys arrives a solid half an hour later, a scarlet lace dress clutched in her hands. An impulse buy, the dress was shorter than what you usually wore. It had a fitted bodice but a flowy skirt, though it only reached your upper thigh. The long sleeves that extended down into flowy bell sleeves had to be your favourite feature of it, alongside the bustier style bodice at the front. She grins as she passes over the dress, alongside a pair of black boots.

“Dressed nicely but not too fancy. Plus I've been dying to see you wear this, so up and change.” She demands, pushing you up. You grin lightly at her antics as you take the dress, disappearing into the bathroom to change. You run your hands down your body as you admire yourself in the mirror. A hell of a good impulse buy, the dress looked incredible. The low cut was far out of your comfort zone but boundaries were meant to be pushed, right?

(No, they were not.)

Pansy gasps as you step out, pulling you over as she admires the dress, words of praise leaving her lips.

“You look so good! Oh my god, wear this everywhere.” She gushes, and you smile shyly.

“Thanks, Pans. Really. And you look incredible too, like positively mouthwatering,” You say and she grins, doing a small twirl in her satin black dress. After styling your hair and doing some light makeup, you make your way over to the dining room, which had already been set up beautifully.

The table, adorned with a crisp white tablecloth, is set meticulously with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and porcelain plates. A centrepiece of fresh flowers in varying shades of red and white adds a touch of elegance, their fragrance mingling with the soft glow of candles placed strategically around the room.

Pansy's attention to detail is evident in every aspect of the setup. Delicate linen napkins, folded artfully, rest atop each plate. You begin to feel excited for the evening, walking over to the kitchen as you look for everyone else. Theodore, Lorenzo and Mattheo are all in the kitchen, sorting panicking over the starters as they rush around like headless chickens. You step in and Lorenzo spots you, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“Wow wow wow. Look at who we have here.” Lorenzo says admiringly, calling over the attention of the other two boys. You grin, ironically doing a small little pose to shake away the awkwardness of their gazes on you.

“Stunning!” Mattheo announces, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he ruffles your hair. You groan with disdain as you jab him in the side.

“Ow!” Mattheo complains, letting go as he frowns, rubbing his side.

“The bloody devil, you are.” He mumbles, glaring at you, A small laugh escapes your lips.

You affectionately pat him on the cheek, before turning to Lorenzo.

“What do you need help with?” You ask them, and Lorenzo shakes his head.

“Nothing. You go and rest, we’ll come serve them soon.” He says, and you nod.

You've been avoiding Theodore's gaze the whole time you've been in here, but you stupidly can't resist looking up at him and instantly regret it when he staring at you so intently. His eyes meet yours and he seemingly snaps out of it, swallowing harshly.

You quickly walk back to the dining room.

A solid 4 hours or so later, you're all lounging in the living room, stomachs full with what was a surprisingly good meal. Whilst the starters were good, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had really knocked it out of the park with the main, a mouthwateringly good risotto that you helped yourself twice to. The cheesecake seemed to be a crowd-pleaser though, with Draco having three slices.

With a glass of whiskey loosely held in your hand, you take a sip, leaning back into the couch. Whilst you tried to fit the aesthetic and sip some wine, you couldn't bear the taste and (truthfully) wanted to get drunk tonight.

It was a lazy and subdued atmosphere, and you didn't even notice Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Mattheo all retiring back to their rooms. You yawn as you get up, stumbling slightly (you had drunk quite a bit actually). You sleepily bid goodnight to the remaining two ( as vaguely as possible because god forbid you say Theodore's name) and make your way upstairs (in one piece.)

You walk into your room and kick off your boots, wandering over to your bed as you begin taking off your jewellery. You look up a mere few seconds later when Theodore walks in, seemingly equally as drunk as he looks at you. He shuts the door, yawning as he pulls off his knitted jumper, leaving him with his white t-shirt on. He throws his sweater somewhere to the side as he flops down onto his bed with a sigh, rummaging through his pockets as he produces a lighter. You can't help but openly stare at him as he does so, alcohol freeing you of what little inhibitions you had.

Something about the sight of Theodore laying on his bed, lazily smoking a cigarette with his slightly messy hair and those damn eyes….

You could see his muscles shift every time he brought the cigarette up to his lips, and you didn't realise smoking could be so erotic.

For some awfully stupid reason, really I mean, you had to question your own sanity, you get up, walking over to Theodore. You're alarmingly quiet as you approach him, and don't say a word as you stand there. His eyes flicker up to you, and suddenly you realise:

Alcohol + tension + two rash people

Is not a very good mix.

You reach down, plucking the cigarette from his fingers. Theodore observes you with a small smile, those sinful eyes of his boring into you as you take a drag, before passing the cigarette back to him.

“He was right,” Theodore says after a second, looking up at you, You tilt your head. If you were already slow at making these connections, the alcohol only made it worse.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“Mattheo. You did look stunning today.” Theodore says, voice low.

Instead of doing what you usually did (some awful combination of looking away, panicking or just remaining quiet), a lazy smirk tugs at your lips as you look down at Theodore.

“Yeah?” You question, and you're 100% sure you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Theodore's eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face as he absorbs your murmured words.

Tentatively, as though testing the waters, he sits up, back propped up against the headboard as he looks up at you. His hand tugs at the sleeve of your dress, pulling you down, His hand rests on the curve of your hip, massaging light circles, and you go dizzy at the feeling.

You make no effort to move.

Rather, in a bold surge of confidence that quite literally materialised from nowhere, you swing your leg over Theodore's lap, straddling him. His hands immediately find their place on your hips, as though they're meant to be there, and he's looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

You knew this was a bad idea, but the alcohol spoke prettier words than your rationale did.

“You certainly know how to make an impression.” He murmurs his fingers trailing lightly along your thigh. You resist the urge to shudder at his touch, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he touches you. You lean closer, admiring the features of his face as you speak, mere inches away from one another.

“Well, I had someone to impress.” You say. He lets out a small, wry laugh, though he's far too consumed with looking at you.

Close the gap. Do it.

You do.

With a surge of hunger, your hands fist his shirt, pulling him in. His hand cups the back of your head as he meets your lips in a passionate kiss, mouths melding together. He holds you tightly, his grip both possessive and comforting at the same time.

The bulge of his clothed cock presses against your wetness, grinding against you with a desperate need. A small meek escapes your lips and it’s as though Theodore immediately swallows the sound, tongue slipping into your mouth as you continue to make out. It’s simultaneously lazy yet desperate - hungry.

"Fuck," Theodore murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desire. "You're driving me insane." He mutters, trailing open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan, arching your back as you tilt your head back, giving him easier access. He wastes no time in sucking and kissing the delicate skin of your neck, tongue soothing the places he nips at you, your skin blossoming red and purple.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips tracing along the swell of your breasts. A low groan escapes your lips, hands coming up to thread through his hair. You tug lightly and feel him smile against your neck. With deliberate slowness, he undoes the lace on the back of your dress as he continues to press sloppy kisses to your skin, undoing the top as he tugs it down. He pulls back, eyes hungrily taking in the sight.

He flips you over with alarming ease, pinning you down onto the mattress as he hovers above you, holding your hands down by the side of your head as he begins kissing down your neck to your breasts.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, large hands coming up to cup one of them, the other holding your hands in place. He squeezes one of your nipples, pinching the bud lightly between his fingers as you gasp, arching off the bed. The sound is music to his ears, and he grins, his eyes remaining on you as he leans down and takes the other one into his mouth, tongue running over the sensitive bud as he pulls away, blowing lightly.

The contrast sends you into a haze, and a whimper escapes your lips. Theodore wants to devour the sound, he simply can’t get enough.

“Do you know how fucking long you’ve been on my mind?” He mutters, voice laced with desperation as he leans back down to kiss you, bulge grinding against your clothed cunt in a way that had you desperate for more. You can’t even formulate a response, because you’re all too consumed by Theodore. Everything about him.

He sits up slightly, hands resting on your thigh as he runs his hands up and down, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your dress.

You feel his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties and swear that Theodore Nott will be the death of you.

Seemingly satisfied, a small smirk tugs at his lips, observing your reactions as he slowly pulls them down. He throws them to the side, and words cannot describe the look on his face as his eyes hungrily rake over you.

You needed him, every bone in your body ached with a visceral need for Theodore. Your hands come down to his belt, tugging at the buckle as you look over at Theodore, eyes glazed over as you were driven mad with your need for him.

He undoes his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clinking as he throws it onto your bed, unzipping his slacks. You can make out the bulge of his erection against his boxers and your heart skips a beat. You’re filled with this primal need to just have Theodore, you need as much of him as physically possible.

You tug his boxers down, freeing his strained erection from its confines. You swallow harshly at the sight of his cock, the tip glistening. You lean up to meet his lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his length as you give him a single jerk. You suddenly realise why Theodore was kissing you the way he was because the low groan that escaped Theodore's lips had you mad for more.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” He murmurs, pushing you back onto the bed. He hiked the skirt of your dress up over your hips, eyes straying down as he spoke.

“You’ve unravelled every thread of control I have.” He says against your lips, teasingly running the head of his cock between your folds. A low moan escapes you, desperately seeking more friction.

“I’m going fucking crazy for you. I ache for you every second of the fucking day.” He mutters, and you pull back from the kiss, looking up at him.

“You have me now.” You respond.

His lips surge forward and meet yours in a kiss with renewed intensity, slowly thrusting into you.

You both let out a collective low groan as he slowly thrusts into you, and you can feel every inch of Theodore within, stretching you out so good you feel as though the simplest movement would split you open. A plethora of gasped curses escape your lips, but Theodore silences them instantly, coming down to kiss you deeply. He buried himself inside you fully, savouring the way you stretched to accommodate him, clenching tightly. He gives you a second to adjust before slowly pulling out. He rocks back in again, his moments slow and measured, but strained as though it’s taking every inch of self-restraint to not ravage you there and then.

“More. Don’t be nice.” You moan, and Theodores swears he won’t ever be the same again. One look at you, hair splayed out against the mattress, your back arched off the bed. It’s a sight he’d never forget.

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m already close to losing it.” He utters, voice strained as his hand grip your hips harshly, surely leaving imprints.

“Good. Ruin me.” You whisper, a fucked-out grin on your face.

Theodore groans, pulling out slightly before slamming back into you. You gasp, cursing as your hands grip Theodore's sheets. He sets a ruthless pace, fucking into you hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, though you’re sure it had to be muffled by the moans leaving your lips. It was only then that you were thankful for having a room all the way on the top floor. You both were too drunk to realise Muffliato did exist.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well. It’s like you were fucking made for my cock” Theodore groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hands come up, running along his back as you lean up (to the best of your ability) to meet him in a kiss.

Theodore's forehead presses against yours, breaths mingling as he shifts slightly, before thrusting back into you. You can feel every inch of his cock brush against your walls, and you can’t help the pathetic plethora of moans and whimpers escaping your lips when he brushes against that spot, stoking a fire in your stomach.

“Theodore- Fuck! ‘m gonna…” You babble, and he lazily smirks, slowing down slightly as one hand tangles in your hair, tugging at it lightly. He experimentally plays with it for a second before harshly tugging your hair, eliciting another moan that felt like it came from the depths of your body, the line of pain and pleasure blurred.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up.” He hums, teasing you with shallow, slow thrusts.

You let out a whimper at the loss of contact, frustration gnawing at you as you look up at Theodore.

“Fuck, stop being such a tease. Please just..” You whimper, trailing off and he tuts, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as he forces you to look up at him.

“You have to tell me what you want. I don’t speak in half sentences, sweetheart.” He says, voice laced with an almost animalistic pleasure.

You groan, nails digging into Theodore's back as some slight form of retaliation.

“I’m gonna cum- please.” You say, breathlessly, and a small smirk tugs at his lips, his hand loosening its vice-like grip from your hair as it trails down the side of your face, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Good girl. Since you asked so nicely,” He muses, no longer teasing you with shallow thrusts as he wastes no time slamming back into you, cock brushing against your cervix. You moan, eyes rolling back as the heat in your stomach rises rapidly; the sensation of Theodore fucking into you was pure perfection.

“Theo…” You moan, breathlessly. He responds to you moaning his name with a harsh snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips as he grabs them tightly.

“Say it again.” He grunts, his thumb coming down to rub harsh circles against your neglected clit, sending a surge of electricity through you.

“Mmm- Ah, Fuck- Theo-“ You moan, and you’re sure you would have done it without him even asking.

“You close? Gonna cum on my cock?” He groans, and you’re sure you’ve become mush because you can’t respond, can’t think, your mind and body reduced down to one simple thing.

Theodore. Theodore, Theodore, Theodore.

You teeter impossibly close to your climax, nails scratching down his back. The sheer ecstasy was too much, and you felt like you couldn’t handle it but also like you needed more and more.

His eyes take over you, as if even though you're both inebriated, he tried to commit every little detail to memory, the way you moaned, mascara streaked around those eyes of yours.

His thrusts grow more intense, fingers working their magic against your clit as he brings you to your release. His relentless thrusts push you close to the edge over and over again,, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips as you feel his thrusts become sloppier, indicating that he was close. With what little strength you have left you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips descend down onto you, ravishing you with messy kisses. It takes one last thrust for you to be sent hurtling over the edge, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as your orgasm crashes through your body with frightening force. Your walls clench around Theodore's cock, eliciting a low groan from him as he chases his own release, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s positively sinful, but he’s sure he’s never seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck-“ He grunts, his movements becoming erratic as you feel him twitch inside you. your legs don’t give in, though you’re surprised you have the strength as the rest of your body convulses with the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“So fucking perfect.” He gasps, and with one final thrust, he stalls, burying himself deep inside you as he groans, hands momentarily tightening their grip on your hips before relaxing slightly. He utters your name with reverence like a sinful prayer, coming down to press lazy kisses to your lips as he releases deep inside you.

You reciprocate the kisses, and embarrassingly whimper at the loss of contact as Theodore pulls out of you, collapsing down next to you. You’re both breathless, panting as you come down from a high you've never experienced before. The post-orgasmic haze lingers over you, making you feel impossibly sleepy. Your eyes flicker over to Theodore and it’s evident that he feels the same. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the red spattering along his neck, not realising when you had done that.

In any other situation, you both wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But the effects of the alcohol had you both giving into temptation, and you didn’t fully comprehend just how badly you both had fucked up.

You roll over, pressing a teasing kiss to the hollow of his throat as he tugs the blankets over the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. He rests his face in the crook between your neck and your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder with an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a small sigh of contentment, wrapping an arm around him as his hand massages your back and side lightly, the tender feeling sending you further into that sleepy state. The sheets smell of Theodore, and you find yourself (as you often did) consumed by him.

You and Theodore both fall asleep in each other's arms, holding onto one another as the night passes by.

You had fucked up, truly.

If only you knew the consequences your actions would bring in the morning.

You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, for it was a known saying that drunk words are sober thoughts.

The same undeniably applied to actions too.

@llpovi @camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

[tuliptears]

"this is so fucking stupid."

with his patience growing increasingly thinner, Katsuki begrudgingly lets you yank him into an empty alley, an idea you'd been mulling over finally coming to life.

"sue me for trying to be romantic."

"we're on a date!" he throws his hands up incredulously, his raucous voice echoing out into the night air.

you hum, after taking a quick scan of your surroundings for any potential peepers, "consider this a perk for taking me out."

There are a few mumblings on his end, maybe a couple of curses, but other than that, no complaints are heard.

"give me a second." thrusting an arm up towards the underside of a nearby fire escape, a thin string of webbing shoots out from your wrist and hits the rusted metal with a muffled 'thwing!'.

as you move upwards, you readjust your grip and then carefully toss your legs forward with a few kicks, flipping yourself with ease.

there's a slight strain in your core, signifying that you are definitely going to feel this in the morning.

once you're able to find your balance and grapple both feet as you hang upside down, your hair rains down around you when you right your posture and frame your face.

the familiar sensation of blood rushing to your head creates a slightly uncomfortable pressure as you slide back down towards your agitated boyfriend, who’s pretending as if he didn't just have his arms stretched out to catch you in case you fell.

"how cool was that? I'm pretty sure I qualify for a high-rate circus."

"are you done?”

"yeah, yeah. how about a kiss for your favorite hero?"

he huffs in amusement, "like I'd ever put my lips on that shitty old man."

"a sense of humor, did you purposely hide it from me?”

despite his alleged annoyance, Katsuki carefully cradles both sides of your face, his hands warm from his quirk. 

however, he hesitates.

maybe this was a little too public for his comfort. this was probably a bad idea.

you’re about to tell him to forget about it, that the adrenaline from date night was clouding your judgment, but you realize that he’s gone uncharacteristically quiet.

he’s staring; rather intensely, too.

his gaze is focused, accompanied by a boyishly small smile that only ever shows up when he’s around you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was powerwashing the memory of your face into his brain. he also takes the chance to lightly run his thumb over a fading scar on your cheek you picked up a few weeks ago on patrol; almost as if the gesture would smoothen the slightly raised skin.

sap.

When Katsuki snaps out of whatever trance he’s put himself in, he realizes that you’re staring right back at him, except you’re sporting a more mischievous look.

"I'm not taking you to the hospital if you break your neck." his grumbles are met with loud smacks as you pucker your lips at him, to which he rolls his eyes. 

the kiss is a little awkward, having to focus on keeping your balance dampens the experience for you by a smidge. his nose digs into your cheek and your chin is too close to his eye for comfort.

you grow to like it when he loosens up, your lips are so soft that he instinctively nibbles on them and draws out a hushed sigh from you. 

gravity might be working differently against both of you, but it helps pull you in closer. there's a pleasantly sweet clash from the ice cream you both indulged in an hour prior. 

Katsuki’s hold on you keeps you grounded as he grudgingly pulls away, breathless from having been lost in the moment.

"I knew you'd be into something nerdy like that," you smile triumphantly up at the blushing blonde, who wordlessly glares in return, "a total win in my book."

he snuffs out your light-hearted teasing with another kiss.

[jube-art]

Would you...make more...JJ art? 🥺👉👈

sure! lmao :) a fic snippet under the cut!

Cassie breathes out, the fire inside of her makes it cloud up in the cold mountain air. She grounds herself, trying to think back on all that her Aunty Diana taught her, about containing her anger, about keeping things manageable and not lashing out at the people around her.

It’s not Cassies fault that anger runs in her family.

Deemed just a bit too ‘rough’ for the regular teen titans, she’s been given an address to go to for a team meet-up that would “fit her deposition” better.

(That the teen titans wouldn’t have a name attached too.)

It’s an old Justice League base, up here in upstate New York just outside of the Catskills and she’s just a little early. Not terribly early she doesn’t think, just about fifteen minutes from the official meeting time.

She knocks on the disguised door, the official teen titans stationary in her hands tell her exactly how to knock and where.

Sure enough, the rock wall opens up, creaking with disuse, yawning a gaping doorway into darkness.

“This is a bad idea.” She tells herself, the words make more of that cloudy air puff around her, but she moves forward into the dark anyway.

The first thing she sees is Nightwing.

Robin is here too, helping him with something just out of sight.

Involuntarily she relaxes a bit. Nobody doesn’t know who Nightwing is, he was the one who handed her the little piece of paper in the first place, telling her to come here. “Hello?”

“Oh!” Nightwing turns, shoving what he was working on down underneath the table. Robin keeps working. “Wondergirl! You’re a little early! Hello!”

Oh god. Did Cassie mess up? Should she have arrived on time? Damn it, mom, she should have left when she wanted to-!

“Welcome!” Nightwing instantly is all charming smiles and a brilliantly handsome face. He moves forward, leaving Robin to continue what he was doing. “I’m glad you decided to take a chance on this little project we wanted to start up.”

Cassie really didn’t have much of a choice did she? It was either this last ditch sort of reject project that she had no information on or it was ‘don’t be a hero’

“We’re just waiting on the other three to be ready.” Nightwing is still talking, still with that relaxed tone and smile. “They should be getting here soon. Do you want some water? We have cookies too-“

Robin jerks back. “Don’t bite me you little shit!”

Nightwing’s smile freezes on his face, awkward. “Ignore him. He’s getting one of the participants on board for this little subgroup.”

Cassie regrets everything. She’s gonna be working with somebody who bites? Who bites like a fucking child? Who is feral?!

Cassie’s all for fighting, all for war, but she’s also all for strategy, it’s in her blood. It’s apart of her power. She can’t deal with anything that’s little more than a feral beast-

Robin yanks around, bringing with him-

The boy is Cassie’s age. Black hair, a black mask over his eyes that can be nothing but one of Batman’s sort. He’s got a thick heavy and large cape on, black, going down to his ankles, pushing away from Robin with a sneer.

He’s sort of cute.

Pale face filled with freckles, thin and gaunt, a little taller than most boys Cassie’s age.

Is this- is this the new Robin?!

Cassie’s expectations of the group go way up.

“Hello?” Another voice comes from behind Cassie, causing her to turn and-

Oh my gods!

That’s! That’s Lex Luthor’s son! Dressed sharp in a form fitting leather jacket with skinny jeans and his signature thick sunglasses.

He’s got powers?!

“Ah! Superboy, so glad to see you-“

“I would rather not be called that.” The boy cuts off Nightwing, a sour expression on his face. “I would rather not be associated with that parent.”

Cassie’s mind is getting blown right now. What. What is going on?! Who is on this team?!

“Of course. I understand completely.” Nightwing’s still speaking for the bats. It looks like the older, still in the traditional uniform Robin is maneuvering the new guy to be front and center. “We’ll make a note of that going forward. Is there anything specific that you’d like to be called for now?”

The boy- superman’s son?!- just sort of looks sad now. Now that it’s been brought to attention, Cassie can’t see anybody but a younger version of Superman looking up from a punk’s face. “If I get one, I’ll let you know.”

The older Robin taps out some kind of pattern on Nightwing’s shoulder, and Nightwing taps one backwards onto Robin’s arm. They understand each other perfectly, as the older, traditional Robin goes ahead and leaves, headed to a side room with the label above it ‘Zeta’.

The new, strange, Robin (because who else is this?) sticks himself into Nightwing’s side.

The Superman … child (how?!) cocks his head at the behavior, the new Robin and him get into a weird stand off, eyes wide and unblinking. Creepy.

“Now we only have one more to wait on.” Nightwing tells the group at large. “Then after introductions we’ll discuss sort of what we have in mind for this group moving forward, and training both physically and mentally to help with both working as a team and working on handling what it takes to be a-

The concussive boom from outside makes Cassie’s ears pop. She winces at the sound, so does the kid of Superman

The bat’s both flinch, full body, jerking away physically from the noise.

The little new Robin way, way worse than Nightwing. Clinging onto Nightwing physically, off the ground and like a koala.

“That’s gonna be Impulse.” Nightwing sighs. “I thought Flash told me that they had stopped breaking the sound barrier-“

He sort of mumbles off, and the group waits a few beats in strange silence. When nothing happens for a bit, Nightwing actually reaches over to the command console and presses a button. “You have to go normal human speed, little dude.”

The group at large waits another second-

Like a flash, sure enough there’s two little wisps of a human being, one with red hair, one with blond. The two of them are wearing the same outfit, white and red, and are vibrating so hard that they are hard to get the details of.

Cassie can only see the chain that connects their wrists, tugging towards one or the other with every twitch.

It hits Cassie then, just how wild this is.

In the room right now is some powerful players, more powerful than Cassie was originally expecting when the teen titans had told her that with her … anger issues she might not be a good fit for the Titans name. Cassie expected to be thrown to the side, mad as hell, not put on a team that consisted of only power players. Batman, Superman, Flash, Wonder Woman, you couldn’t get bigger names.

And here they all sit, in some run down old base cave in New York, waiting to be told that they’re going to finally be a team.

[yongbokology]

part dos of ‘don’t accidentally beat your dick to your best friend’

part one

black coded reader <3

warnings; smut

an: you asked, i delivered 🧞‍♀️

eren is a mess. a complete utter mess.

after realizing he’s been jerking it to you for the past few months, he becomes a nervous wreck around. oh it was bad.

his first encounter with you after the realization, literally happens the day after.

you were running late for work and your car was currently in the shop so you sent a rather urgent text to him with multiple crying emojis, asking him to take you to work.

without even seeing the message, he begins to panic just seeing your name pop up.

did you somehow use your woman tuition and found out he was fucking himself to you? it plagued eren’s mind for a few seconds, his hands clammy as he grasps his phone.

he lets out a sigh of relief once he reads the message and instantly responds.

‘yeah ofc, see u in a bit’

‘thx ren, you’re the best!’

oh eren feels like shit.

he felt like a pervert. like he wasn’t supposed to see you in your nakedness, pleasuring yourself for thousands to see.

“.. ren, are you okay? you’re awfully quiet today.. i’m sorry if you were busy-”

he immediately shakes his head “no! i wasn’t doing anything. i don’t mind at all.. just a bit distracted is all.” he clears his throat, eyes fixated on the road. not sparing you a single glance.

you stare at the side of his face, picking him apart in your brain. all these years the two of you had the pleasure of knowing each other, you knew eren’s mannerisms, his nervous ticks and more.

something was definitely up.

…

“god not this again. connie could you maybe not be so open about the porn you indulge in.” reiner is fed up with the porn talk, just trying to enjoy this sunday afternoon with his friends.

“okay but bro i’m telling you, this girl is fire. i’d def buy her only fans if she had one.”

eren isn’t too interested in the conversation. his head’s in the clouds. lately he’s been fantasizing about you. a lot actually.

breaking you in half. fucking your brains out in every setting possible. this was new to say the least. before, eren hadn’t had such thoughts about you.

i mean yeah he did sometimes think about what it’d be like if the two of you were together. would the two of you be good partners as you are friends? but he never thought about you in such obscene ways.

it is this next part that has eren almost falling out of his chair.

“[your user]. never heard of her?”

both jean and reiner shake their heads.

eren on the other hand feels his skin run cold, eyes bulging out his head at the username. it was your username.

connie is now pulling out his phone and eren quickly catches on that he is about to pull up your page. with frantic eyes and haste, eren waits for connie to unlock his phone and in the split second that connie rotated his screen towards the three men, eren yanks it from his grasp and dramatically let’s connie’s phone fall face down on the concrete.

“yo what the fuck man?!” connie yells, mouth ajar as he looks between eren and his phone that is definitely not working when he picks it up.

“i-i um. i’m sorry.. it slipped..”

both reiner and jean silently blink, throwing glances at each other.

“oh it fucking slipped? my five year old nephew could put on a better fucking performance.”

“i’m really sorry man. i get paid tomorrow, i’ll pay for it. i swear.”

…

“i really needed this, thanks for hanging out with me ren. karina has been more bitchy than usual.” it was no secret you hated your boss. you often ranted about her to eren, so much so that he hated her as well and doesn’t even know what she looks like.

“of course. you want some more popcorn? bowl’s almost empty.”

you nod and eren gets up from his spot on his bed and retreats to the kitchen to refill the bowl.

you shift your eyes to the tv, ‘bad boys’ currently at it’s thirty minute mark.

you feel a buzz under your butt.

with furrowed brows you shift and pull out eren’s phone that you had no idea you were sitting on.

his phone screen comes to life, him and armin in the background of the notifications that fill the screen.

there were a few from twitter and growing curious as to what eren’s twitter feed looked liked, you unlocked his phone and hit refresh.

your jaw unhinges when you pop up on his screen. fingers knuckle deep in your cunt.

you’re in shock like you literally didn’t film this a few hours ago and hit post. you just weren’t expecting to see yourself on your best friend’s timeline.

you stare at yourself, at first unsure how to react to this knowledge but then the thought of eren touching himself to you skates across your mind and suddenly you’re clenching your thighs, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

the thought arouses you.

eren comes back with the bowl filled to the brim and his smile is wiped off his face once he sees his phone in your hands.

“eren,” you start. your voice is low but sweet. “is there something you want to tell me?”

he sucks in a breath, pupils shaking as you lay the phone on the bed. he sees what you were looking at clear as day.

“y/n.. i-i can explain.”

your plump lips turn upwards into a grin. mischief writes all over them.

“come here.”

it’s a command that has him hesitantly obeying.

he sits down on the bed, farther than where he originally was.

you sigh and close the proximity by climbing into lap, the popcorn bowl being discarded to the side.

eren feels hell fire creeping up his neck. his mouth his dry and he can suddenly hear the thrumming of his blood.

“how many times have you fucked yourself to me. hm?”

his lips tremble. “a few times..” it almost comes out as a mumble.

your smirk widens at his blatant lie.

“oh eren, you and i both know that’s not true.”

you push him until his back is flat on the bed, your thighs on either side of his hips. you splay your hands on his chest and fully plant your clothes pussy on his crotch.

he could literally just cum right then and there.

“you know what i hate more than liars?”

once eren realizes you actually want him to respond he shakes his head.

you lean forward until your lips are grazing against his ear. your tits mushed against his chest.

“i hate disobedient boys,” you lean back up and eren looks dazed. aware but dazed. “are you a disobedient boy eren?”

…

needless to say, he’s not. he listens to your every command which is why he was currently whimpering, hands pressed against his chest, trying his very best not to touch you.

your mouth works wonders on his cock, it weeps in all it’s 8inch glory, precum finding it’s way onto your tongue.

you pull him out of your mouth with a lewd ‘pop’, eyeing eren as you pump his aching length. “you close?”

tears form in eren’s eyes. everything feels fuzzy. his brain is scattered but he still manages to give a slight nod. he looked so fucked out and god what a sight it was.

“you gonna cum for me pretty boy?”

the nickname makes eren whine.

“eren, answer me or you don’t get to cum.” you grit, your free hand taking hold on his throat, clenching your dainty yet powerful fingers around it.

“y-yes! yes. m’gonna c-cum.” he chokes out. his pupils becoming dilated as you speed up your hand around his cock.

you smile at this. “i want you to come in my mouth ‘kay? and you can touch me now.” your mouth is instantly on his cock after finishing your sentence.

eren props himself up on his elbows, the iron grip you still have on his neck combined with you sucking the everlasting life out of him has eren cumming in no time with a cracked moan.

“fuh-fuckkk.” tears are streaming down his face now, jaw unhinged as you lap up the messy head on his cock.

“got anymore for me?” you don’t expect him to answer, instead you squeeze on his balls and one last spurt of cum falls onto your shiny lips.

this has eren falling back flat on his back, panting heavily like he’d just finished running a marathon.

you lick at your lips and hum at the taste of him. salty, as expected but not overbearing.

“you did so good for me ren.” you smile, crawling up beside him. resting a hand on his naked chest.

eren lazily turns his head towards you, his cheeks tear stained. he looks utterly broken and it ignites something within you.

“this stays between us ‘kay?” he nods slowly at that, too tired to speak.

what in the world did he just get himself into?

.

.

.

tag list: @hellavile @animeloverzx @starlightmid @gobblethiskitty

[erinwantstowrite]

Would you ever... create like... LOF au oneshots....? Like, one chapter lengths stuff for things that you were thinking of putting in but didn't, or doing like a "Peter if he was younger, meeting the bats" or "what if Bruce was his dad, not Dink?"

i have been collecting scenes that ended up not being in LoF... Like, some scenes that were in a different POV before they got changed (there's a Tim POV that got scrapped and ended up as Peter's instead, this is the hardware store scene), scenes that ended up not being in it at all (Peter and Dick were going to have dinner with Donna, but it wasn't coming out right when I tried writing it) etc.

I do like the idea of doing drabbles for LoF like I do for Home too, or maybe even writing someone else's POV of a scene that I did put in LoF, or writing things that the others were doing on certain days, etc.

though there are some things that i might end up putting in a different au instead of scrapping it all together. like this scene:

[ Peter is holding a fridge. Somehow, this is both a cause for alarm and also not at all what the problem really is.

See, Peter woke up this morning with the goal of going around and logging Gotham’s map so he could input it into the Jumping Radar. Peter really wants to avoid going back to the library, and doesn’t feel like testing his chances at a new library just yet. However, that plan ended up on the back burner sooner rather than later.

There’s this little old lady on Bourbank Avenue, a little close to Benny’s, that Peter says hello to when he sees. Her name is Margerie, and usually outside tending to her rickety garden. “Poison Ivy is more gentle with people who care about the plants.” She had told him, and taught Peter her ways of tending to beans, beets, carrots, and spinach.

Well, Peter said hello to her today. Stopped by to chat while she taught him about how to tell when a tomato is at its best. And that’s when he heard about her fridge.

“I’ve had it so long, it’s no wonder it gave out on me,” She had said.

“How long has it been?”

“Well, Benji was still alive…”

“Who?”

“My son.” Margerie had smiled. “He was the one who’d remember that kind of thing.”

And, well, jeez. Peter’s not a monster. He went looking for a damn fridge.

However, he didn’t have the money for a fridge. So what he could do was find where Margerie’s hired worker dumped the fridge, fix it, and find some way to bring it back without anyone noticing he’s a skinny 14 year old who shouldn’t be able to do that. This endeavour led him all the way to a dumpster, where it turns out he can’t save the fridge after all.

But there was an appliance store in the Diamond District that Peter had passed by. And wouldn’t you know it, he found a fridge outside in their dumpster that was able to be salvaged. It’s perfectly clean, too, just sitting there brand new and with a faulty ice box that no one wanted to work around.

So.

Peter is holding a fridge.

That’s somehow both a cause for alarm, and not the problem.

Cause of alarm- he dropped it on his foot when a group of people ran behind the appliance store, and he almost shrieked in pain and alerted them that he was behind the now dropped fridge. He heard the crack in his foot and felt it and prayed, but no- broken.

Peter pushes the fridge off of his foot, yanks the broken thing back, and gently drops the fridge back into place. He’s far enough against a chain link fence to be hidden very well, thankfully, and none of the people who ran back here had seen him. (Yet?) He presses his back against the chain link, biting his lip and pressing his thumb on the injury. It’s not that bad, he can already feel the healing itch. But it’s enough that with only a couple meals in him, that it’ll take longer than Peter would like for it to get back to normal.

“Fuck! Scatter! Why’re y’followin’ me, y’idiots!?”

The real problem: not the broken foot.

“This was tha only place ta run!” Another shouts back. “Fuck! This is bad!”

“No shit! Y’fuckin’ moron- y’led a Bat right to us!” A third hisses.

Peter peeks around the fridge in time to see the third guy grabbing the second by the collar, slamming him up against a wall with a thud.

hello! hey, watch? look it look it look it

Whatever scuffle was about to happen is quieted. Peter glances upwards, but he doesn’t see what he knows is there, in plain daylight. There’s a presence on the roof of the appliance store, but where? Peter should be able to see them, but…

there there there!

He doesn’t get to focus on the presence that’s there. Instead, his eyes are starting to adjust to the fact that- hold on-

Peter glances up. Gotham is usually cloudy and grey, but… there’s nothing blocking that light of a stormy early morning. And yet, everything in the area is growing darker and darker. Peter’s skin crawls, a tingle that settles down his spine and tries to make up for the increasing lack of light. The group of teens start to panic, looking for a way out that isn’t possible in this dead end.

Darkness encompasses the area. Peter takes short, silent breaths. His ears twitch with every movement from the teens, every whisper of panic. Their heartbeats are erratic, and it’s like they already know which Bat this is. There’s seven heartbeats, panicked, trying to escape…

And one that is calm. There’s a breath and the scuffle of a foot from the rooftop.

Peter closes his eyes even though it’s already dark. His spider-sense is making up for what he can’t see, a mental map of the area created in his head. He feels the air move around him, and listens as the Bat takes each of them out one by one.

The thuds of one companion freak out another. “Scotty?”

But then he’s out too. Peter hears two more meet the same fate, knocked out cold on the concrete. He opens his eyes as the Bat approaches the last of them, just in time for the shadows to recede back to where they should be.

Signal stands over the last, now unconscious guy.

The Bat hasn’t broken a sweat. He almost looks bored when he starts ziptieing the gang, complaining aloud, “Y’all couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to cause trouble?”

Whoa.

Peter had seen Signal doing his thing a couple times when he was out and about, but never this up close. That…

That was fucking awesome.

He heard the guy was a meta, and he didn’t know what to believe about that, but seriously? That was like some Shadow-jutsu shit- wait, could he do that? No, wait, because now Peter can see Signal again. He was fucking invisible! And he’s acting like it was nothing! ]

I really really really really really wanted this scene, but it never made it past the rough draft :( that's because it didn't make sense with the rest of the chapter (i can not remember which chapter it was for, but it was definitely before Two Face). I've been thinking about putting it in a deleted scenes for LoF fic, but I think I might take it and put it in a different au.

(The only consolation I have for this scene not making it in is that Signal gets to have a cool scene later)

[nichuuu]

Dried Things & Humanity

말린 것들과 인류

Word count: 13k+ SMUTLESS FIC

"The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision" ~Osamu Dazai

Dried flowers. 

They sat by your bedside, a constant reminder of how far you would go for love—A love that would never be anything more than a short-lived euphoria. They’d died some time ago, wilting rather quickly under a lack of care, but you kept them. The text that came when spring first rolled around saying hey let’s break up was not expected, neither was the part where she blocked you, nor was the part where you almost jumped off a bridge. Yet it all happened, a confusing, muddled, mish mash of events that went down over the span of a week. If it weren’t for your friends, you would be at the bottom of the river by now, joining your grandfather and maybe your family dog up in the clouds, or wherever it was that spirits wandered to. At the moment, getting out of this life didn’t seem like too bad of an idea.

You stupid child! Your mother had chided when she found out about what you almost did. What do you think you would’ve achieved with that? What good will it do? 

Then she hugged you, held you tight and sobbed as she thanked god for letting you live another day. Frankly, you didn’t know what was the appropriate response for your mother. You opted to hug her back, tearfully whispering your endless apologies to her. Even though you promised to never make another attempt on your life, the fear of losing her only boy still lingered in your mother’s mind. Your mother and father were always in the office. So, in fear that living alone would drive you to the worst possible option, she sent you to live with your uncle who ran a secondhand bookshop in a small town not too far from the city. She filled him in with what happened and pleaded for him to help you “recover”.

“Don’t worry little sis,” he assured your mother. He threw an arm around you, “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own son. We’ll get along, won’t we?”

Park Sang-hoon—the people living in the area called him “the librarian”—was your mother’s older brother. You hadn’t seen him since you graduated from middle school, and he’d certainly aged from the last time you saw him. The hair that was once jet black and slicked back was turning white and receding. The same friendly complexion remained however, the amiable smile that you remembered greeting you when he opened the door to his house. It was a stone's throw away from the bookstore.

The house and the business had been imparted upon him by your grandparents. It was relatively small, but there was enough room for the two of you to live with your own privacy (though that didn't really matter since he’d just come barging into the room you stayed in anyway.)

The door to your room flung open. “Hey kid! Rise and shine!”

You grumbled something incoherent and pulled the blanket over your head. 

“Up! Up! It’s time to get up!” your uncle bellowed in a sing-song tone, “there are so many things to see and do! Get up you lazy child!”

Your blanket was yanked off your entire body.

“Is this really necessary?” you snapped. Your uncle grinned.

“No. But it’s fun,” he beamed. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your left side, you back facing him, 

“Leave me alone…” you muttered, “let me sleep…”

“I’ve been letting you do that for the past week,” your uncle huffed, “now your mother is calling me, demanding to know if you’d even emerged from this room. She said some mean things to me, you know?”

You sighed and turned onto your back. “I’ll go out tomorrow…”

Your uncle sighed. “Let me tell you something…”

Let me tell you something was the signal for you to tune out. “Let me tell you something”, “Let me tell you this”—your uncle always said these before he launched into a long rambling story that really added no value to what he was trying to say. It was either that or he’d leave you with a cryptic message to decipher yourself. You never understood why he did that, it was probably just an old people thing.

By the time he was done with his little storytime, you were still in bed. With another heavy sigh, your uncle said, “fine… If you’re not gonna go anywhere today, at least come and help me with the store.”

Your mind told you to stay in bed, but your body told you that you needed to get outside. You decided to listen to the latter party for once. 

The bookshop was old, one of those shophouses down a stretch of road that townsfolk usually walked past on the daily. Needless to say, the store wasn’t the most appealing from the outside. The inside however—That was something else.

You remembered visiting the bookstore with your mother once or twice. A stack of books nearly fell on you that time, and your uncle was berated rather viciously. He’d definitely made some improvements in the time you were away. The store was warm, cosy and relatively organised. The shelves were evidently a little worn from the years, but they still looked and felt sturdy to the touch.  It was a welcoming environment, the interior bearing a striking resemblance to a bookstore of the early 90s.

“I’ve kept up with the times!” your uncle boasted proudly, “nowadays everyone and their mothers are all into this retro aesthetic, so I made sure to keep as much of the hip and cool retro feel.”

Your uncle definitely did his research. You couldn’t help but look upon the shelves filled with books with awe. “This is…”

“Pretty lit, am I right?” your uncle grinned. You cringed.

Your uncle frowned. “What? Did I not use the phrase correctly?”

“N-No it’s just… Ah whatever,” you muttered.

“Damn… I swear I had the meaning for that one down,” your uncle muttered, “the slang of the youth… Such an odd thing.”

After giving you a little more time to admire the place, your uncle tossed you an apron and instructed you to put it on. 

“I’m alright with letting you stay with me for free,” your uncle told you as he helped you tie the strings of the apron behind your back, “but I won’t let you wallow in this post-breakup sadness all day.”

He spun you around, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “You just graduated from highschool, no?”

You nodded. 

“Perfect, you’ll need some job experience then,” he grinned, “from now on. You’ll work for me till your stay here is over!”

And so it began. From that day onwards, you started filling shelves, dusting books, pasting on price tags and flipping through pages of books that had been sold to the store to assess the state of the book. It was far from enjoyable in the beginning. It felt akin to the life of Andy Dufrane in Shawshank redemption, the same old routine repeated day after day in what felt like an endless cycle. You were up early in the morning to open the shop with your uncle, the brown apron on your person by 7am in the morning and the door to the shop open by 9am after you were with the opening up preparations. You had to flip the plastic sign hanging on the door from “open” to “closed” every morning, and from “open” back to “closed” in the late evenings. Lunch was usually around 12pm, where your uncle would go out to one of the nearby restaurants to get lunch for the two of you. You’d sit opposite each other in the small break room that sat behind the counter, munching on whatever he bought. 

Handling customers was also another gruelling task. You admittedly didn’t have a voracious appetite for books, many authors sounding foreign to you. A good majority of the books that the store had on hand were classics from esteemed authors, varying in language, length and appeal. When customers asked you what you’d recommend, you could only shrug, earning yourself a nasty gare before they walked off. When they asked about the disparity between the prices of the same book, you could only stare blankly before calling to your uncle.The store had duplicates of some books, the only thing separating the copies being the cover art or the type of book cover. 

“Let me tell you something,” your uncle had told you one fine day, “hardcover books are much more valuable than the usual soft cover books. You want to know why?”

That last part wasn’t a question, rather more of a filler. Apparently, a hardcover was typically more durable, allowing it to better protect the pages within. This meant that the book would stay in better condition for longer. Ultimately, the process and materials needed for hardcover book printing were more expensive, hence this cost is passed on to readers. 

“Capitalism,” you muttered, placing the hardcover version of Greek Lessons by Han Kang on the shelf. 

As for the cover art—Some covers were objectively more appealing than the other, making the book more valuable. This was the case for Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human. The two covers looked about the same to you. 

 On some days, you wondered how such an old secondhand bookstore could’ve lasted for so long. There were days where you only sold two books for little Won each, and those were typically on weekdays where some of the townsfolk—usually on the more elderly side—would come through the doors and browse through the books. But on the weekends, you were reminded just how hectic this place could get. The youth from the city loved to flood the shop over the weekends, making the commute from the heart of the country to this small shop in a small town to browse through the seemingly endless selection of books.The line to the counter often snaked out the door and onto the street on those days, and your fingers would be aching by the end of the day—A byproduct of gripping those handles of those paper bags while struggling to get them open.

After a week or two, you got used to the whole routine. It didn’t help to remove the monotony of your tasks however, and you often found yourself wondering how your uncle could run this place on his own for so long. With the memories of your ex still tormenting your mind, you found it hard to focus on your tasks at times. Sometimes, you just didn’t want to get up in the mornings. The dried flowers by your bedside were a constant reminder of the pain. You’d bought them for her on the day that text came, now you couldn’t let go of them.

One evening, your uncle decided to close up the shop a little earlier. It’d been a slow Wednesday, so there was no harm in resting up a little earlier than usual. 

“Come with me,” he told you after he’d locked the shutter in place, “I want to take you somewhere.”

You walked up the stretch with him, walking past the rows of shophouses that lined the street. You saw bookstores that looked similar to your uncle’s a couple of times, prompting you to wonder just how many people sold secondhand books on this stretch. 

He took you to a small bridge at the end of the road. It was one of those old, traditional Korean bridges with the stone tiling that arched over the water. He took you up to its apex and made you look out into the water. 

“What do you see?” he asked you.

“Is this one of those stupid lectures again?” you muttered.

“Just answer me.”

You sighed. “I see the water and some trees.”

“Good. What else?” he urged. 

“There’s nothing else,” you told him.

“Wrong. Look again.”

You rolled your eyes and set your sights a little further. “I see Cogongrass.”

“What else?”

You were certain that this was one of his stupid little talks again. “Just tell me what you want to say, uncle!”

“Always so impatient…” he chuckled.

Gently, he grabbed your chin and tipped it up. With his other hand, he pointed out into the distance—Past the trees, water, the cogon grass and the roofs of the shophouses. There, you saw the mountains and the roads that stretched for kilometres, the faint shape of those big blue signs that pointed you in the directions to different places.

“You limit yourself to what you see in this area,” he explained, “but you fail to see past this river and this small town.”

He turned you back to face him. You were a little taller than him, so he had to look up at you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders, holding them firmly. 

“You must learn to set your sights further, dear nephew,” he told you, “learn to see past the trees and the water in your mind. Then and only then, will you be able to live once more.” 

The cryptic message left you admittedly puzzled on the way home. It took you some thinking to read between the lines and understand what your uncle had told you—You had to look past the memories of your ex in order to move on with your life. 

“Excellent,” your uncle had praised when you knocked on his door to ask if your interpretation of his message was correct, “I hope that you can remember this. I hate to see you moping around my store. It scares my customers away too!”

Your first step in looking past the memories was to toss out the dried flowers from your bedside. Even though it was painful, you did it. You knew you needed to.

In its place by your bedside, you bought an alarm clock—one of those old ones that still used the hammers to knock the two small bells—And a framed photograph of the town. You bought both of them from one of the nice old ladies who ran a souvenir shop just down the road. 

It was the start of a new beginning. It felt like you were human once more.

***

Dried Persimmon.

That was what you were munching on when you were handed your first paycheck from your uncle.

“W-Why are you paying me?” you stammered, “I-I thought this was just something to occupy my time!”

“I may be cheap, but I won’t exploit my own nephew!” your uncle laughed, “now quit sneaking snacks on your shift and get back to work!” 

You knew that your uncle was generous, but you never expected him to be this generous. With a smile, you wiped the bits of the dried fruit from the corners of your lips before pocketing the envelope. 

“Thanks,” you beamed. You raised the small jar of dried persimmons and asked, “want one?”

“Tsk. I’m a professional, I don’t eat on my shift,” he sneered. 

“You sure?” you confirmed, “this is a fresh batch from Miss Cho’s…”

“From Miss Cho’s?” he gasped, “gimme some of that!”

You had become well acquainted with the townsfolk, especially with the ones that ran the stores on the same stretch as the bookstore. Sometimes, the sweet old ladies from down the road would come in to deliver some gifts to you and your uncle. Everyone seemed to be friends in this town. Miss Cho was one of the many townsfolk that specialised in dried goods. A sweet lady really, a little older than your mother but not as old as your uncle. Persimmons were seasonal fruits, so they were naturally high in demand in late spring. 

You let your uncle take one piece of the dried fruit before closing the lid and setting it atop the table in the break room. Your uncle stepped aside to let you exit, and you went to continue your shift. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to move on from your ex. Yes, you did share some fond memories with her, but you found these “core memories” made with her easy to forget. She no longer appeared in your dreams, neither did you think about her when you were going about your tasks. She’d become a distant pain, a pain that you never intend to revisit. 

Once, she did happen to come by the bookstore on a weekend. She walked into the crowded store, hand in hand with a brand new boyfriend while you were calculating somebody’s purchase. You caught yourself staring at her as she browsed through the books, her boyfriend lingering close by as he read over her shoulder. It was then that your uncle firmly grabbed you by the shoulder. He’d seen pictures of her. He could recognise her on sight

“Look past the trees and the water,” he reminded you, before going back to checking out books. You tore away your gaze from them and continued with your work.

When she came out to the counter to pay, the look of shock on her face almost made you want to double over in laughter. Swiftly and wordlessly, you took her books and packaged them neatly in a bag. 

“That will be forty-thousand Won ma’am,” you had smiled respectfully. She was still staring at you, her mouth open in the shape of an “o”.  Her boyfriend had to pay and take the goods from you before directing her out of the store. 

When they left, your uncle gave you a gentle pat on your hand. Well done was what he was trying to say. 

True to your uncle’s lesson, once you had gotten over her, you felt like you were alive. You found that you quickly took a liking to this new lifestyle, immersing yourself in the wide array of books that were at your disposal and even taking home a few to read. It felt like a fresh new chapter had begun in your life, and you were more than ready to welcome its start. The monotony was now welcomed in this slower-paced segment of your life.

“By the way,” your uncle called to you as you set down a box of books. He’d just bought them off a guy moving overseas. “I have a feeling that business will start to pick up soon!’

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“You’ll see…” he smiled. He popped another dried persimmon into his mouth. “Damn! This batch is bussin!”

You cringed. You could get used to life in this small town, but you knew that you’d never get used to your uncle throwing out the slang of your generation. You wondered if he had Tik Tok on his phone or if he’d seen one too many Instagram reels.

With your box cutter, you cut open the tape that sealed the cardboard box, the one that housed the goods. You opened the box. 

“The hell…” you muttered as you stared at the books within, “who did you get these off?”

“Some preschool principal. What’s up?” your uncle asked. 

You produced one of the many alarmingly thin books from the box. “Hate to break it to you but… These are all children’s books.”

Your uncle was never one to swear, but he made a rare exception for that moment. 

“Fuck!” he cussed rather loudly, “I should’ve asked what the contents were!”

You chuckled and placed the book back into the cardboard box. “Don’t worry uncle, we can always sell these to the daycare, can’t we?”

“Bourgeoisie scumbag! I paid a lot for that!” your uncle continued to ramble. You decided that it would be best to silently push the box into the storeroom while he let his frustrations out.

***

Dried leaves. 

That's what you were sweeping when a black van rolled into the stretch of street. The front doors opened and a man and a woman stepped out. It was early autumn. The leaves of those trees that grew next to the bookstore—Once beautiful and elegant in nature—became pesky as their leaves had begun to wither and fall. Your uncle saw the mess outside the store and immediately got you to start sweeping it up. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

You halted your broom as the man and woman approached you. 

“Hello,” the woman greeted you, “is this Park’s second hand books?” 

You nodded and pointed at the sign above you. The woman grinned. She turned and told the man to get the gear out. 

You recognised the city accent in their voices. 

The man wrapped around the vehicle and opened the trunk. You tried to look into the van but found that the tinted windows didn’t let you see anything. The man came back around, a heavy video camera—those ones they used to film movies—on his shoulder. The woman approached the door of the van and pulled it open. 

Five girls got out of the van, selfie sticks with Gopros attached to the end in their hands as they filed out of the vehicle one by one. It took a moment for you to recognize the five of them, and another moment to realise that there were global superstars standing right before you. 

In a wordless panic, you dropped the broom and bolted into the store. Your uncle was behind the counter, counting the bills in the cash register when you called him.

“ITZY is in front of the store!” you exclaimed. Your uncle cocked his head.

“ITZY?” he inquired, “is that a new slang or something?”

“N-No! T-Their idols, uncle! There are idols outside the door!” 

It took a moment for your uncle to process what you’d said. Then, he simply smiled. 

“Right… I forgot to tell you about that,” he said. He placed the bills he had been counting back into the register and walked out from behind the counter. 

“Oooh… These girls are much prettier in person,” your uncle mused as he walked by. He opened the door to the store and stepped outside. You could hear his booming voice through the open door. “HELLO! WELCOME! WELCOME!” 

You could hear them exchanging greetings outside the store. Hurriedly, you scanned around the store, looking for any signs of mess. There were thankfully none.

“Come in! It’s rather cold out,” your uncle said, “it’s much warmer in here!”

You quickly stood up straighter, your hands by your sides as the five ITZY girls walked through the door of the store. 

“Welcome to the store!” your uncle grinned, “that over there is my nephew, he runs the place with me for now.”

The girls turned. The feeling of five pairs of eyes on you was nerve-wracking, and the two cameras that started to flank you on either side weren’t helping to ease your nerves. Where did the second camera come from? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You gulped, a tug of war between waving and bowing to the girls ensuing in your head as you stared blankly. 

“He’s uh… A little shy,” your uncle chuckled. Then he gave you a look, one that said hurry up and say hello you dense child.

There was no victor in the mental tug of war. In the end, you resorted to an awkward half wave, half bow. The girls sniggered at your greeting.

Then and there, you wanted to shrink down and hide in the shelf behind you. 

The woman from earlier started speaking to the girls. “This is the final place. Now, we will draw lots to see who goes where!”

She produced a handful of popsicle sticks. The girls started talking about how nervous they were, giggling amongst themselves as they started to draw the sticks one by one. Your uncle stood by the woman, a small smile on his face as he patiently awaited the result.

“Oh. Looks like I’ll be working here!” Shin Yuna smiled as she looked at her stick. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or disappointment that you heard in her voice. 

“Excellent!” your uncle beamed. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen going twenty, sir!” Yuna answered bubbly. 

“Ah! Looks like my nephew will have a friend of his age then!” your uncle laughed. 

“E-Eh?” you blurted, “w-what’s happening?”

Your uncle walked up next to you. He put an arm around your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Yuna giggled and cleared the hair from her face. You made eye contact with her. 

She grinned. 

You felt a burning sensation on your face. 

***

Dried Pollack soup.

That was what you ate with your uncle as people came in to set up cameras around the store. Every corner, every angle, every millimetre was covered by at least one Gopro.

“They said in the email that it was for their Youtube,” your uncle told you, “they're gonna live in this town for a bit, work at some of the stores… Taking a break from their idol activities apparently.”

“B-But why the bookstore?” you inquired. Your uncle shrugged.

“I don’t know. They sent me a 30 page proposal that I didn’t bother to read. I figured that having idols in our store would help boost our business. Get people from other parts to come here—You know what I’m saying?” 

You did not know what he was saying. The whole situation was so overwhelming. An idol working at the bookstore? For how long? What did you need to do?

A knock came on the break room door. You turned and saw a man standing there, Gopro in hand.

“Sorry to disturb you, but can I put a camera in here?” he asked politely. 

Your uncle gave him a look and asked, “is that completely necessary?”

“I-I mean… If you guys are okay with it,” you replied. Your uncle sighed.

“Take the soup out,” he instructed you, “give them space to set up…”

***

A very, very dry mouth. 

That's what you had when Yuna walked into the store for her first day of work. 

She was tailed by one cameraman and another woman, both of them wearing the same shirt that read “JYP CREW”. You could feel the cold sweat on your palms as you handed her the apron that already had her name tag on it. With a rather apparent stutter, you welcomed her to her new job. She smiled, that radiant smile that you’d only seen on your phone screen now right before you. It sent a warm fuzz down your spine. 

Your uncle showed her around, breaking down the various jobs to her as you opened up a box of books—they weren’t children’s books this time—and got to filling the shelves. You could hear every word that came out from your uncle's mouth as you explained the tasks that the idol was to undertake, as well as the opening and closing timings of the store. He finished his run down just as you finished placing the last book from the box on the shelf.

“What should I do now?” you heard her ask. 

“Go help my nephew. I think he could use a hand,” your uncle replied.

“Right! On it!” came her bubbly reply. 

You could feel your heart beating faster as you felt her get closer and closer. 

A tap on your shoulder.

“Hello!’ she greeted you, “let’s work well together!”

You managed to sputter out something. She asked for instructions on what she should do. You blanked out for a second. Then tremulously, you reached into your apron and pulled out the second box cutter. 

“U-Um,” you began. “T-There’s a box of… B-Books in the store… Just… Just uh…”

Her gaze felt piercing even though it was gentle. It’d been awhile since you’d stood before a girl this gorgeous. Your nineteen-year-old hormones were getting to you, sweat beading your forehead as you struggled to give the idol instructions. 

Then suddenly, you ran away. You didn’t know why you ran, but you just ran out of the store and down the street. Getting away from the store was your main task, and you ran quite a good distance in the chilly autumn air before you finally ran out of breath. Clammy, tense and exhausted, you rested outside one of the shophouses along the stretch. 

“Fuck… What’s wrong with me?” you questioned yourself. It was like you’d never talked to a girl in your life. 

It only took a second or two for the adrenaline to fade. In its place came embarrassment as you buried your face in your hands. What are you doing you stupid idiot! Why did you run? You chided yourself, beating your cheek with your own palm. 

You heard someone call your name. You raised your head.

“Why are you slapping yourself in front of my store?” Miss Cho inquired. She was pushing a cart full of pears. They were probably freshly harvested. 

“Oh… Hey Miss Cho,” you greeted her, “I was just… I-I don’t know…”

You ended up pushing Miss Cho’s cart back up the street. 

“She’s a what now?” Miss Cho pressed.

“An idol Miss Cho,” you explained. You eventually got around to telling her the reason as to why you were beating yourself in front of her shop. The concept of someone singing and dancing for a living sounded completely foreign to Miss Cho—Someone who spent most of her life drying fruits and making snacks—So you had to explain it to her. 

“Ah… I remember my daughter saying something about it,” Miss Cho mused, “so… Why did you run away from her?”

“I… Don’t know,” you told her truthfully, “I guess I just freaked out.”

“Because she’s famous?” she pressed. You thought about it for a moment, then you nodded.

Miss Cho stopped addressing you for a moment to greet Mrs Han, the lady that ran one of the restaurants on the stretch with her husband. Miss Cho gave the restaurant owner a whole carton worth of pears, telling Mrs Han to make something tasty out of them before the two of you continued moving along.

“Why are you scared of an Idol?” she continued to question.

“I-I don’t know… I-I guess it’s because she’s popular and all, so I’m scared that I’ll make a fool of myself in front of her,” you reasoned. 

Miss Cho hummed and nodded. “I see…” 

She stopped once more, this time in front of the sweets store. You helped her pull out a crate of apples from the bottom of the stacks of pears and handed it to the store owner. Miss Cho requested for a batch of the sweets when they were ready before the two of you got to moving again. 

“So… Why does this girl being this idol make her any less normal than you?” she asked. 

“P-Pardon?” you stuttered, “I-I never… I never said that…”

Miss Cho chuckled, one of those nice Ahjumma laughs that could warm one’s heart. “You did not, but the way you spoke of her implied it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. Now that you thought of it, you’d made Yuna sound like some high and mighty god that could smite you with a snap of her fingers.

“Just because someone has millions of fans doesn't mean that they’re any less of a human than you and I,” Miss Cho told you, “just because someone is adored doesn't make them more superior. If that was the case, I’d be a warlord by now!”

The dried fruits specialist cackled at her own joke. She always had a tendency to do that.

“You see… The problem with fame is that everyone places you on a pedestal,” she continued, “a mistake could cost your whole reputation. A good choice could gain you more popularity. It’s a never ending game, dehumanising in the sense that these famous people can’t afford to live normal lives. Why? Because they’re not considered normal! That’s not right if you ask me…”

You were wondering where this knowledge was coming from. You made it a mental note to talk to Miss Cho a little more. Was it normal for all the old people in this town to be so wise?

The two of you finally stopped in front of the bookshop. Miss Cho instructed you to take in a crate of pears, assuring you that she could make the rest of the journey down the street herself. You waved goodbye to her and prepared to enter once more.

“Remember,” she called to you. You were just about to open the door. “That girl is human. Treat her the way you’d treat any other human.”

She left you with that nugget of wisdom before she bade you farewell and continued with her journey up the street. You sat on her words for a moment before you entered the bookstore once more. 

Yuna’s head snapped towards the door when she heard the chime of the door. You made eye contact with her. 

Human. 

With a smile, you carried the crate into the store and asked, “pears anyone?”

***

A dry wipe. 

That’s what you gave Yuna to clean the dust off the shelves. Two weeks had elapsed since she’d started working with you and your uncle. You never got used to the fact that there were always cameras around you, nor did you ever get used to the fact that the woman and the cameraman would pull you aside and ask for your opinions on Yuna as an employee every now and then. You would always try to be as honest as possible, excluding any embarrassing slip ups she made in an effort to not badmouth the girl.

Within her first week here, she’d already clocked in late once. She apologised furiously that day, working twice as hard to compensate for her mistake. Standing tall, she could reach for the things that customers couldn’t, making her a great help to the regulars. She learnt quickly, finding the most optimal way to replenish the shelves by her fourth day and figured out the best way to assess the state of the book on her fifth.

Weekends had become more packed because of her, the word that Shin Yuna from ITZY was working at the store getting out rather quickly within the first Saturday she worked here. The next day, you had a flock of Midzy’s in front of the store 3 hours before opening. You had to guide Yuna in through the back entrance to prevent her from being swarmed. While Yuna greeted her fans that came to see her in the store with a big smile, you couldn’t help but notice the hint of tiredness behind her eyes. It was like she didn’t really want to be there, but she had no other choice

Now, she was doing an excellent job getting the dust off the top shelves. 

“I think that’s good enough Yuna,” you told her. She turned to look at you.

“You sure? I think it still needs one more round,” she told you.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you told her, handing her another sheet of dry wipes while you took the blackened one from her hands.

“This is great,” she told you, beginning her final round of cleaning, “it makes me feel like I’m at home again. I feel like I’m a kid.”

Here’s the thing about Yuna—Her joy was contagious. When you saw that smile on her face, you couldn’t help but smile along with her. The silliest things could make her grin, and you’d end up grinning with her even though you didn’t find it amusing. You were convinced that it was a special skill of the sort. 

Yuna wiped up whatever dust she could find, leaving no stone unturned as she completed her task. It was almost closing time, a relatively slow day for the bookstore as usual. Yuna had been completing her shifts diligently, only ever disappearing for lunch and toilet breaks. 

Hell… If she wasn’t some bigshot idol, I’d have her employed full-time in a heartbeat! your uncle had told you over lunch one day. You couldn’t help but agree with him. 

“There! All clean!” Yuna exclaimed. 

“Could you show us the cloth, Yuna?” the lady producer asked her. 

For a moment, you saw a hint of annoyance behind her eyes. Then the usual, childlike wonder took its place and Yuna presented the cloth to the camera.

“Ta-da! All clean!” she beamed proudly. You politely clapped your hands in the background. The female producer gave Yuna a thumbs up before tapping the cameraman’s shoulder. “I think we can wrap up for the day.”

The two turned and walked out of the store. Yuna waited till both of them had exited before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Break from idol activities? Yea right…” she muttered, stepping off the step ladder. You stretched out your hand to take the dry wipe from Yuna. She suddenly seemed to remember that you were there, and that bright smile returned to her face. She handed you the dry wipe, all bubbly and smiley.

“I’m going to wash my hands in the bathroom, boss!” she told you. You nodded and let her go. She skipped off towards the back entrance. Your uncle walked out of the storeroom. He was drenched in sweat, his green shirt turning dark under the moisture.

“Hand me a towel would you?” he requested. You quickly walked behind the counter and tossed him his slightly moist towel. He caught it, smiled, then wiped his sweaty face.

“Who knew organising could take so much out of me?” he chuckled. He looked around. “Where’s Yuna?”

“Bathroom,” you explained. Your uncle gave you his Ah I see expression. Then he took a look at his watch. “Let’s get ready to close up shop.”

You nodded and walked over to the door. As you were about to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”, you saw Yuna walking back towards the shop. You raised an eyebrow.

Coming in from the back would’ve been much quicker…

As she got closer, you could make out the tired look on her face. Then you realised that the cameraman and the female producer were following her once more. So much for wrapping up you thought to yourself as you pushed the door open.

“Yuna!” you called to her, “come in! We’re gonna start closing up!”

The weary look disappeared in a flash. Yuna smiled from ear to ear and began jogging towards the store. You found that the cameraman and producer were far from wrapping up, following the idol back into the bookshop like chicks tailing their mother. 

“H-Hey um… Didn’t you guys say you were wrapping up?” you asked the producer. She turned and looked at you.

“We need as much content as we can get. Gotta keep going,” she told you. Then she left to catch up with the camera man. You were suddenly ill at ease. 

They continued to follow Yuna as she assisted you and your uncle in closing up the shop. They were like shadows, tailing the idol with every move she made. There was an unmistakable look of irritance on Yuna's face, but she only let it out when her back was turned to the camera. At the end of it all, the female producer made the idol shoot a thumbs up to the camera and exclaim, “Another job well done today!”. Only when they had gotten a perfect take of that did they truly cut the camera and start packing up for the day. 

“Try to be a little more energetic tomorrow,” the producer told Yuna. You were all outside the store by then. The shutter was closed and locked. The final piece of equipment had been loaded into their van.

“Got it!” Yuna beamed. The producer nodded and wordlessly got into the van with the camera man. The van pulled away, leaving the three of you to breathe in its exhaust as it became smaller and smaller.

“This street was never built for cars…” your uncle grumbled. Then he turned to Yuna and told her, “good job today. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

Yuna smiled—this time a little less bright and more weary—and bowed. “Thank you for today! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The idol turned on her heel and walked off towards the small house that she and her members stayed in for the time being. You couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders seemed to slump. 

“Are we overworking her?” your uncle asked. He must’ve noticed too.

“I’m not sure,” you answered, “I feel like it’s not the work…”

Your uncle raised an eyebrow. “What else could wear her out today? She’s been cleaning and stacking all day!”

You pursed your lips. Then, you turned to your uncle and said, “go home without me. I need to do something.”

You set off after the idol. She hadn’t walked too far over the course of your conversation with your uncle. You caught up to her in a matter of seconds.

“Yuna!” you called her. She turned.

“Hm?” she hummed. 

You stopped before her. “Could I… Take you somewhere?”

You only realised how weird that sounded after the last syllable left your mouth. Inwardly, you cringed and hoped to god that she didn’t find that creepy. Thankfully, she gave you a smile and said, “sure!”

You took her to the bridge where your uncle had imparted his wisdom upon you. The walk there was filled with awkward silence, only broken erratically by your comments on the different shops. In the chilly Autumn air, you walked side by side with Yuna till you reached your destination.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered as you stopped at the apex of the bridge, “this is…”

“It’s prettier in Spring,” you told her.

“I can imagine that,” she whispered. 

She placed her hands on the railings and leaned her body weight against it. You silently stood next to her, letting her take in the breathtaking scenery without disturbance. You had a hunch—The fact that cameras were always on her had been taking a toll on the idol. You figured she needed some time away from the cameras, a moment where she didn’t have to live with the fact that she was perpetually in the frame of a lens that was recording her every move. 

You didn’t know what to do when the first teardrop came rolling down her face. When her body started to shake, you started to panic internally. That wasn’t part of the agenda. You awkwardly fumbled around, patting your pockets to see if you had any tissue to give her. By the time you had pulled out the small tissue packet from your pocket, the girl was already seated on the bridge, knees tucked in and arms locked around her legs as she bawled and bawled. Awkwardly, you sat down next to her. You maintained a distance from Yuna and silently slid your tissue over to her. The last thing you wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in her moment of vulnerability. 

You gave her time. Breakdowns like hers would never be finished in a matter of minutes, you knew from experience. The sheer internal bedlam a human could experience under certain circumstances was no joke.

It took some time, but her shoulders eventually stopped heaving so violently, her breaths becoming more uniformed in nature. 

“I-I’m sorry… I-I just…” she started to apologise. 

“It’s… It’s alright,” you assured her, “it… It must be tough for you.”

You gestured to the packet of tissue next to her. She gratefully accepted it, pulling out a couple of pieces to dry her eyes. There were no more words spoken between the two of you, only an odd, comfortably awkward silence in the air as you both sat with your backs to the railing. Yuna sniffled intermittently, and you could hear her drawing tissues to blow her nose. 

You didn’t say anything to comfort her. But that day, you unwittingly made her start trusting you.

***

Dried apple slices. 

That’s what Yuna had bought to share with you. She’d gotten them from Miss Cho’s, and had asked to eat them with you on the bridge after your shifts had ended.

“These are so good!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Cho’s family spent lifetimes perfecting their formula. It’s gotta be good,” you told her.

Yuna squealed happily as she dug her hand into the container and pulled out yet another slice. You could pinpoint the exact moment where the flavour of Miss Cho’s apple slices burst forth in her mouth. Her wide-eyed silent glee was your indication. On the railing of the bridge you sat, side by side with the idol. There was an unexplained affinity between you two since that day she cried next to you. Your interactions in the bookstore had increased, becoming friendlier in nature. It was like something suddenly clicked between the two of you.

“Man… These things make me want to live here forever!” Yuna laughed, kicking her legs like a child as she dug her hand into the container for yet another slice. You smiled as you watched her. She seemed more carefree that day.

“You’re from the city, right?” she asked you, popping another slice into her mouth.

“Yep… I’m just staying here for a while,” you explained to her. 

“Don’t you have to search for a university?” 

You kicked your legs and sighed. “I do… But that can always wait.”

Your truth—You didn’t want to leave this town. Life was much simpler, slower. You’d originally come here to recover, hatred and bitterness brimming in your heart. Now that it had been purged from your being, you found a connection with this humble, small town. You knew that you’d eventually have to leave, go back into the hustle and bustle of the city when you got back to your life as a city boy. You dreaded the arrival of that day. 

You told this to her. A look of understanding crossed her face.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. 

“Since early Spring so… About a month now?” you replied. 

“Ah… And what’s this bitterness that you had?” she pressed. 

You took a dried apple slice and popped it into your mouth. You munched on it a little before replying, “I had to recover from a breakup.”

Yuna chuckled. “Ah… I suppose this place seems like a nice town to get back on your feet.”

You were glad she understood you. 

“You know… This spot is really something,” she told you, “it’s so beautiful and calming… I really gotta thank you for showing it to me.”

You waved it off. “No problem.”

Yuna folded one leg up. “I came here with the girls once after that evening. It was a good break.”

She sighed heavily. You wiped your hand on your jeans.

“It must be tiring,” you said.

“Hm?”

She turned to look at you intently. You stared at your sneakers. The once snow white shoes had been dirtied by gravel and all sorts of elements, but you didn’t really mind. 

“It must be tough living with no breaks… I imagine it can get pretty overwhelming,” you told her. Yuna stared off into the distance for a moment.

“When they told us that we would be coming here to take a break from our idol activities, I thought that we’d actually be able to rest…” she muttered, “then we saw the cameras and got handed those damn selfie sticks… That’s when I knew that we were just making more content while we’re supposedly ‘resting’.”

You could hear the spite in her voice. Your heart went out to her. 

“I hate this,” she continued, “I just want to have a moment where I’m not dancing, where I’m not singing, where I’m not being recorded by some stupid fucking camera while I keep some pretty smile on my face.”

Her truth—There were times where she wondered whether the idol life was meant for her. While they existed, she couldn’t recall the last moment where she was just Shin Yuna, a regular nineteen year old girl finding her way in life. She liked the bookstore, it made her feel human. While she was going about her tasks, the sheer monotony of it all brought some semblance of regularity into her life. For a rare moment, she wasn’t just some money making machine for a company, she was just a regular human, like you. It gave her an unexplainable joy, a joy that was quickly stripped away when she turned and saw a camera being pointed right at her.

She told you this in hew own words. You bit your bottom lip.

“But of course, I can’t let that show, can I?” she laughed bitterly, “gotta be pretty preppy princess Yuna. Can’t be angry, can’t be annoyed, allowed to cry only in concerts or in interviews… Fuck all this idol shit.”

Her life didn’t sound as great as you’d imagined. You admittedly thought that many idols lived in luxury, showered with love and attention from fans worldwide while earning big bucks doing what they always aspired to. In reality, their lives were the most cruel and unforgiving, an endless cycle of practice, classes and content. They were always being watched and monitored. They maintained a happy, cheerful image for their fans, but deep down they just want to take a break for some time before coming back to this life of theirs. It sucked. It sucked big time, but they all lived with it.

The harm that humans could bring upon each other was frightening, yet the world was as such. 

“I think you’re incredibly strong Yuna,” you voiced your sincere thoughts, “it takes a lot to be you. I don’t think many people can confidently look me in the eye and tell me that they’re fine with being watched twenty-four-seven, let alone pretend like everything is great with their life when it really isn’t.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, “I… I think I really needed to hear that. You summed it up really well.”

She shot you a sincere smile. You chuckled softly and scratched the nape of your neck. There was a warm sensation on your face. 

“You’re… Welcome I guess?” you told her. She laughed at that.

“You’re funny,” she remarked, “I like your company.”

The warmth on your face was now more of a burning sensation. You looked down at your sneakers, feeling a grin plastered on your lips. Her smile was as contagious as her joy. 

“How… How long are you guys gonna be here for?” you asked her.

“I forgot... I only know that we’ll go back for Chuseok, then come back here for a few more weeks. We’ll be out of here by the middle of November if I recall correctly, then back to comeback preparation in early Winter,” she replied.

Time was a funny thing. It could go by so fast when you wanted it to be slow, but it could also drag on like a snail when you wanted it to be a rabbit. Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

In your heart, you prayed that Yuna’s time in this town wouldn’t be fleeting. In your heart, you prayed that time could show mercy on this girl.

***

Dried anchovies. 

That’s what your uncle needed from Miss Lee, the general store owner, to cook the stew for that night's dinner.  You shrugged on your jacket that evening and headed down to go buy what was needed. Mrs Lee greeted you with the usual warm smile, though you could tell that the Gopro on the counter was making her ill at ease. 

The ITZY girls were there, talking amongst themselves as a camera man and a different lady producer stood behind them. You did your best to slip by undetected, snagging the bag of dried anchovies and a bottle of water without being spotted. You didn’t know that they’d follow them till this late. 

You paid for the good and exited quietly. On the way back, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You spun around to come face to face with Yuna. 

“Hey,” she beamed. She must’ve seen you. How did she get out?

“Oh. Hey,” you smiled back. 

“Can we meet at the bridge later? I’d like to get some fresh air after my dinner,” she requested.

You smiled and agreed. You set a time, then split off in your own separate ways to go about your evenings. You couldn’t really focus on your uncle’s rambling that night, you mind drifting to Yuna’s smile while your uncle said something about the stock market. 

9pm. That was the time you’d arranged to see her. On the pretext of taking a walk, you slipped out of your uncle's house and journeyed down the street towards the bridge. She was there by the time you’d gotten there, a bright smile that could light up the darkness gracing her features when she caught sight of you. She let you walk over to her before handing you something. It felt like a stick.

“What are these?” you asked. 

“Lanterns,” she answered, turning hers on, “Chuseok is coming up. The Chinese like to carry lanterns and take walks on that day. I thought we should do something while I’m still in this town, make some memories, you know?”

The lanterns she had purchased were from Mrs Lee’s general store. Mrs Lee had always been obsessed with Chinese culture, particularly in terms of decorations and practices. She sold those lanterns all year round, even though no one really bothered to buy them.

You and Yuna walked around the town with your lanterns, talking and laughing, laughing and talking… It was a night to be alive. It was nice to see Yuna in this light. You’d grown out of your 2 dimensional perception of her, discovering the multitudes she possessed. On the surface, she was simply Shin Yuna, ITZY’s maknae and visual. Beneath that, there was Shin Yuna, the nineteen year old girl who could easily make someone smile and blush. Then beneath that was Shin Yuna, a nineteen year old girl who craved regularity, a nineteen year old girl who wanted to be momentarily freed from the glitz and glam. You were happy that she trusted you enough to be comfortable around you, and you were more than happy to have that gut feeling that she was truly being herself with you. 

“This town is amazing…” she remarked as you found yourselves before the bridge once more. You’d walked a full round around the town by then, lost in conversation as you took turns down the roads on a whim. 

“Maybe you should just move here,” you joked. 

“Oh how I wish I could!” she sighed, “everything’s so nice here… I wish I could just stay here forever…”

I wish I could stay here forever. She always had a tendency to say that. While working in the bookstore, she’d let it slip. When you were talking with her on the bridge, she’d say it at least once. She struck you as someone who was vocal with their opinions, someone who would freely speak her mind if she could. You enjoyed listening to her long, rambling talks about her various life stories. Though you could never bear to listen to such rants from your uncle, you found hers enjoyable to listen to. There was a certain way she drew you in with her voice, your attention becoming captive to her tone and intonation while she went on and on… 

When you parted ways with her that night, you found that you wanted her to stay and talk with you a little longer. Of course, you never vocalised this desire. She’d already broken rules to come out and see you that night, the last thing you wanted was to get her in trouble. 

As you walked home with your lantern that night, you wondered what it would be like to date a girl like Yuna.

***

Drier air.

That’s what you felt had changed that late October morning when you stepped out of your uncle’s house. 

“Aish… Winter is coming already,” your uncle grumbled, “time passes so fast these days… I ought to keep a better track of it.”

It was Yuna’s final weekend in the town. She was due to leave by Tuesday next week. As expected, Midzys showed up in front of the door, prompting your uncle and you to wrap around to the back entrance, where Yuna was waiting. The female producer and the cameraman were right there with her, asking the idol some questions in front of the backdoor as you and your uncle approached. Her eyes seemed to light up upon the sight of you, the smile on her face growing wider as she waved to you. 

“Yuna, focus on the interview,” the producer reminded her sternly. She quickly set her gaze back on the camera. Your uncle waited patiently for them to wrap up with their questions before opening the backdoor to the bookshop. As you walked in, Yuna walked up to your right and whispered right into your ear.  “10pm. Bridge. Don’t be late.”

You’d never wanted a shift to end so badly.

That night, you met her at your usual haunt. Her smile—Usually brimming with joy—was noticeably sadder, dimmer under the moon’s beam. It felt hard to accept that her time in this town was running thin. You wished that there was a way to extend your fleeting time with this woman, find a way to make some more memories with her. Alas, time could only move forward at a rate unknown to you. Autumn was slowly becoming Winter, and Yuna would soon be gone from this town. Every moment was now more precious than ever.

The truth you kept to yourself—Though your heart fluttered around her, you knew that you and her could only remain in this stage of friendship. Progressing forward to a new stage of a relationship would be hard. You could only hold on to her as a friend, hoping that she wouldn’t forget you when she returned back to the big city. 

The two of you stayed out late that night, eating dried fruits from Miss Cho’s and drinking some Makgeolli that Yuna had bought and snuck out. 

“My last day as a human,” she told you that night while cracking open the bottle, “then it’s back to being a doll…”

Human… Why could she never seem to prove to everyone else that she was human as well? The fame, the shining lights, the pedestal that she’d been placed on… They all created a false image for her. It brought forth a notion—She was privileged, someone who could receive the attention of fans and brands alike. There was no room for blemishes, her body “perfect” and her personality flawless. She had to accept all that, live with it without a fuss or hassle. 

When she rambled about this, tears flowed freely from her eyes—Years of pent up anger, sentiments of unfairness and many other emotions coming forth in moonlit steaks that ran down her face. You poured her another glass of Makgeolli. She tossed it back to soothe the pain.

“You know… I always feel so comfortable with you,” she whispered, “it’s like I’m talking to an old friend… Someone who actually understands me.”

Under the stars that night, the two of you admittedly got a little tipsy on the bridge. Under the stars that night, Yuna had let slip her true feelings towards you. Under the stars that night, you two shared a kiss, one that would change the complexity of your relationship, spurred by the raw emotions of the night that had manifested through the catalyst that was alcohol. 

As your fingers ran through her hair and her hands held on to your waist, she leaned on your shoulder and whispered some words into your ear. They weren’t words that you wanted to hear, but you knew that you’d just have to accept them.

It pained the both of you to know that you could never truly love each other the way you wanted to. The expectations of her company and of society set a boundary, one that kept you two so far yet so close. While you saw her as a regular human, she still had to abide by the rules and regulations of the company that controlled her. Those rules defined her, the regulations moulding her into something no longer human. It made her life strict and unforgiving. 

She was like an unwilling puppet, trying in vain to resist the commands of those who had power over her. A sisyphean task it proved to be. 

To them, she was an idol. And according to them—Idols and humans were not to love each other.

***

Dried flowers

That was what you held behind your back that morning where you saw the ITZY girls off. You and your uncle waited outside the house they stayed in, dried flowers tucked away behind you. Then they came out. The five of them, rolling out their luggages, dressed warmly to combat the rapidly dropping temperature. She caught sight of you. A sad, warm, gentle smile crossed her face. The bosses of the shops that the girls had worked for respectively had all come to bid farewell to them, giving you some time to talk to her one last time. The goodbyes were tearful, full of hugs and “I’ll miss you”s. Yuna gave your uncle a hug, then she turned to you. Surprisingly, neither of you shed a tear as you stared at each other. 

You produced the dried flowers that you’d gotten from the florist and presented them to her. 

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered as she accepted them. 

“Glad you like them,” you replied, “try and keep them alive okay?”

She stared up at you for a moment. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her face, you didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug. She cried into your chest, a million and one apologies bursting forth as she held you tight. It was as if it was her fault that the two of you could not start a proper relationship. It was as if you’d disappear if she didn’t hold you as tight as she could. 

When it was time to go, you dried her eyes to the best of your ability. She gripped the dried flowers tight, a grim look on her face as she said, “I’ll take some time to think about us… When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there.”

You smiled. “Alright then, I’ll wait.”

She fiddled with the wrapping of the dried flowers.

“Till then,” Yuna requested, “could I be selfish and ask you to hold on to these feelings?”

You smiled and assured her that you’d try to. When we meet again, I’ll let you decide if we should kiss or not, she told you. 

In the cold morning air, you made a then-and-there decision to share one last kiss with her, not caring about the fact that staff and her other members were present at the scene. As the van took her away from the town, your uncle placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked you. 

You wiped a tear from your eye and whispered, “I hope those dried flowers won’t die as quickly as they did last time.”

***

The cold snap hit when you came back to the town. A fresh, fluffy and thick sheet of snow covered the streets. Your boots made a satisfying crunch with each step you took, the frigid winter air biting your face as you hurried towards the bookstore. All around you, people walked up and down the street. City people—you recognised their accents. 

You found it hard to adjust back to life in the city. The roar of the traffic was jarring, making you yearn for the quiet of the town streets. The pavements were jam packed with people, making you long to return to the empty streets of your uncle's humble town. The subway was packed like sardines, making you think about the times where you could get to wherever you wanted on foot. It was safe to say that you had some forms of withdrawal symptoms, but you eventually got over it. Then university came. The workload was immense, the readings mountainous. It took you some time to figure out a way to efficiently cover all the content you needed to, but you eventually found your footing. You were in your last year now. Time was truly so fleeting, a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

Now that you were back in this familiar place, a sense of comfort filled your being. Not much had changed over the course of your four year absence. Aside from the fresh coats of paint and increase in tourists, everything was just as they were when you left. 

The bookshop was teeming with life when you entered. You were pleasantly surprised. You remembered your uncle telling you about how good the winter crowds were, but you ever imagined it to be this good. You hurriedly removed your scarf and coat before approaching the counter. There, your uncle was busy packing book after book into paper bags. You hung your coat on the coat rack and grabbed an apron. 

“I’m back,” you said, taking your place next to your relative. Your uncle cast a glance towards you. 

“I’ll greet you later. Busy now,” he mumbled. You chuckled and tied the strings of your apron behind your back. 

It didn’t take long before you settled back into that old rhythm—Open, pack, take the bills. Open, pack, take the bills. It brought an odd sense of joy into your heart. You’d missed the monotony of this life. 

The bookstore closed a little later that day. You waited till the last customer had slipped out into the cold evening air to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”. Then you shut the door behind you.

“I should really employ a part timer,” your uncle mused. He beat his lower back with a clenched fist. “The crowds are only growing these days… I’ll need some help.”

Then he waddled over you. With a warm smile, your uncle pulled you into a warm embrace. 

“Welcome back, nephew. It’s good to see you again.”

You hugged him back. The usual old people's statements ensued—How have you been? You’ve grown taller! Jeez… You’ve gotten a little more plump! Have you been eating well? The same old questions were hurled at you. You were happy to answer them all. 

You helped your uncle close up shop for the day. To celebrate your return, he took you down to Mrs Han’s to have a barbeque. The restaurant owner greeted you with her wrinkly, warm smile and welcomed you back to town. The meat was fresh, well marbled and tender. Freshly imported Mrs Han had told you, they just came in today! You came back at the right time!

It was safe to say that your belly was filled that night. Mrs Han had kindly put the cost of the meal on the house, and your uncle hurried you out of the restaurant when you insisted on paying. 

“It’s rare for her to be this generous. Accept it while you can,” he told you. You rolled your eyes. He was as thrifty as always. 

Your uncle took you to the bridge that night. Proper lighting had been installed on it, small yet powerful lamps illuminating the path as you and your uncle stood side by side on the apex of the bridge. The river was frozen over, the trees around it bald and bare. 

“You should’ve came back in the spring,” he remarked, “there were more flowers this time. It was beautiful.”

“I can imagine that,” you replied. 

Your uncle sighed heavily, a sizable cloud forming before his face. “You know… She came back this spring.”

“Is that so?” you replied alarmingly calmly. Your voice betrayed your emotions. It felt like a small ball was caught in your throat. “How is she?”

“She seems alright, definitely grew a few centimetres,” he told you. 

“Is she healthy?” you pressed. 

“She definitely looked a little more plump in the face. She’s seemed a lot stronger,” your uncle replied.

Silence hung between the two of you. Then your uncle inquired, “You never managed to see her in the city, did you?”

You lowered your gaze to the frozen water. 

“No…” you grimaced, “I… I could never find a way to see her.”

The truth—It felt like fate was against you. You could never secure a ticket to any of her performances, nor could you ever get into any of her fanmeets—Online and physical. You never expected that you’d face such difficulty in trying to see Yuna, but you persevered nonetheless. When the university workload came in however, you found your free time had been stripped from you, tossed out to the wind as assignment after assignment plagued your days. Yuna couldn’t be your top priority no matter how much you wanted her to be. You didn’t know why the idea of getting her phone number never crossed your mind while she was with you. Then again, exchanging phone numbers could have landed her in trouble…

You told this to your uncle. He nodded silently.

“I guess we were never meant to be a thing,” you whispered dejectedly, “I was a fool to hold on to those memories”

Your uncle sighed and patted your shoulder. “Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded…”

“Han Kang,” you muttered. It was one of the quotes from her book Human Acts. You had a paper on that book coming next term. Your time at the bookstore made you discover your love for books, hence you pursued a degree in Literature in university. 

“You remember,” your uncle chuckled. It was one of the first books that he’d made you read. “Your memory serves you well, nephew.”

The quote he’d recited could be interpreted in many ways. In the context of the book, the protagonist spoke of their memories in the bloody Gwangju massacre in 1981. The sights, sounds and horrors left them scarred for life, so scarred that they’d take them to the grave—hence the usage of heal in memories never heal. Healing meant forgetting.

For you, healing meant forgetting too. The only difference—You didn’t want to heal. You wanted to keep those memories carved into your brain, make them a permanent part of your being. You wanted to ingrain that smile in your vision, keep that voice playing on loop in your ears. You were more than willing to take those memories to your grave. 

“First a breakup, now this,” you muttered, “am I not built for love, uncle?”

“Everyone is built for love,” came his instant reply, “it’s just a matter of finding the right person to receive love from.”

The right person… 

Your parents were meant to follow you on this visit back to the town, but last minute work held them up in the city. They’d found an Airbnb house in the town for the three of you, but now you had it to yourself. As you laid down on the bed, you found that the silence was deafening.

Silently, you wondered what’d be like to date a girl like Yuna. She felt like the right person.

Maybe all of those emotions were just teen hormones. Maybe the feelings were just bright out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you didn’t actually love her, maybe it was more of an infatuation. It all sounded logical and reasonable to you. 

Yet when you saw her again, all of that no longer seemed to make sense. 

There she stood in the cold winter morning, scarf around her neck and a pair of earmuffs atop her head. In her gloved hands, a bright pink tote bag, a bouquet of flowers sticking out from the opening. She stood before the store, staring at the closed shutter, mouth parted ever so slightly. Her hair—Red when you first saw her—Had been returned to its natural colour. She was as beautiful as the day you said goodbye to her. 

You swore that your eyes were deceiving you. When she turned her head, you were convinced that her jaw dropped open as wide as yours when the two of you locked eyes.

Then in the next moment, she was in your arms. She had her ear pressed to the left side of your chest, as if she needed to hear your heartbeat to verify that you were truly there.

“Hey,” was all you could manage.

“Hi,” she whispered back, “it’s been awhile.”

Her eyes gleamed with the same childlike wonder. Her smile was as genuine as you’d remembered. You wanted to kiss her to see if her lips would feel the same, but…

When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there…

She did give you the freedom of choice to kiss her when you reunited, but you decided against it.

Catchup was done in the warm respite of the bookstore. With aprons adorning your bodies, you filled each other in on what you’d missed in each other's lives. This was all done to the backdrop of filling in shelves and rearranging stacks of books. Lunch came and your uncle left the two of you on your own. You got some tteokbokki with her from Mrs Han’s—to go of course—and hit your old spot. 

“Even without the leaves, this place is still so stunning,” she mused, staring out at the frozen water.

“I still prefer it in Spring,” you told her, “I like it better when the trees are less… Bald.”

She laughed at that. 

When the sun started to set on the small town, your uncle made the executive decision to close up early. The sun may be gone, but the night is young he told you with a wink. You gave him a grateful smile and took off your apron. He let the two of you go off early that day.

Dinner that night was once again at Mrs Han’s, and she wasn’t so generous that night.  A walk around town was what she asked for afterwards, both of your footsteps seemingly synchronised to produce rhythmic crunches in the snow. At one point, she’d stopped walking to gather up a handful of snow, forming a hefty snowball to chuck at you. You didn’t hesitate to fight back. 

“University sounds tough,” she mused, munching on some grapes from Miss Cho’s.

“I think it’s just my course,” you remarked, “the rest of my batchmates seem to be having a relatively good time.”

“Literature is demanding,” she agreed, “but what do you wanna do with it in the future?”

You sighed and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, “I’m still figuring that out…”

“Maybe you can become a writer,” she suggested, “write some screenplay… Make it different from the usual stuff.”

“I’d probably need to save up some money before I do that,” you chuckled, “I have a degree that guarantees a higher chance of living on the streets than living on someone’s couch.”

She laughed at that too. Then she said, “hey, maybe you should come work for my company when you’re done with university. That way, we can see each other more often too.”

You chuckled. “That’s a possibility… I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

“I’ll make sure to vouch for you,” she declared, “the big boss likes me enough to listen to me…”

You laughed and nodded. Silence hung between you two. 

Then it was time for the hard question. 

“So are you seeing anyone?” you asked her. Yuna licked a grape seed off her lips before answering.

“I’d like to think so…”

Your heart sank, but you still cocked your head in feigned curiosity, “oh? What do you mean?”

Yuna bit down on her lip. “I mean… I like him, but I’m not sure if he still likes me.”

“Ah,” you mused.

“Yea…” Yuna sighed. She looked up at you and asked, “what about you?”

You took a moment to formulate an answer. “I think… I’m just waiting for love as of now.”

“Ah,” Yuna parroted, “well… I wish you the best in that then.”

There was a sudden tension in the air. It was like your respective cryptic messages had conjured a rubber band of the mind, pulling it out to its maximum length as you continued your silent journey down the street.  Perhaps your hopes were set a little too high—You’d expected her to remember the love that existed four years ago, run back into your open arms so that you could shower her with kisses. But you’d forgotten—No… Chose to forget what she’d told you on the bridge that night. 

I love you. I know that it’s too late for this, but I love you. I’m sorry we can’t love in the same way others do, but do know that deep down, I wish to love you in the same manner that you love me. It’s confusing, I know… But my life doesn’t allow us to share the life we want to. I’m sorry.

It was a painful thing to hear, but you still kissed her right afterwards, and you still kissed her the morning after. You now realised that perchance, you’d gambled a little too much, gone all in with the chips of your heart only to lose. You didn’t understand why she couldn’t date freely, be with someone that truly made her happy. She was a human, a human deserved to give love and be loved.

She got a call a few minutes later. It’s my manager. I gotta go now. 

She gave you a small wave, handed you the last few grapes from the container. Then, with a it was nice seeing you again, Yuna turned on her heel and walked off. The grapes felt oddly heavy in your hands. Again, she was to disappear from your life. Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy, she spilled through the gaps between your fingers once more. This felt like a scenario you’d read in books a thousand times over, and frankly, it sucked.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today. 

Osamu Dazai had said that. You weren’t sure why you thought of it as you watched her back get smaller and smaller by the second. 

Hoping faintly for happiness? Is that what I’m meant to do? You asked yourself. She was getting further by the second. Hoping faintly for a chance that she’d turn back, you stood there. She never did.

Hoping faintly…

No. You wouldn’t settle for that. 

The grapes fell from your hands as you ran towards the girl that you’d so hoped to see again. Four long years you’d tried and failed. Now, with the opportunity right in your grasp, you were certain that you had to make something out of it. 

In three more bounds, you were right behind her. Yuna you called, grabbing her by the shoulder. You didn’t give her time to say anything before you turned her around and planted your lips on hers. She yelped, her body tensing as you held her cheeks in the cradle of your palms. 

A quiet smack resonated when your lips parted. Yuna trembled in your grasp, teary eyes gazing into yours. 

“I’ve been waiting for your love Yuna,” you admitted to her, “for four years, I tried to see you again but I just never could. We said that we wanted to sort out what we meant to each other when we met again, but we failed to do that today. Tell me Yuna—What am I to you?”

She let out a shuddery breath, the smell of grapes saturating the air. 

“I-I have to go,” she muttered.

You were tired of waiting.

“Yuna please,” you begged.

She looked away, as if contemplating if she should give you her answer.

“You… You are who I want to love,” she whispered, “I-I thought that… Maybe I was too selfish to ask you to keep loving me for all these years. I-I guess I didn’t expect this selfishness to be rewarded.”

“It isn’t selfish,” you corrected her, “it’s… It’s human Yuna. The desire to want someone to keep loving you, that’s human.”

Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “Right… I can only feel like a human when I’m with you.”

Suddenly, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. You pulled her in once more, holding her as tight as she did on the day she left your life. You kissed her, tender and passionate as she gripped the fabric of your jacket. Her perfume was sickly sweet, intoxicating and lulling you deeper into her body as she reciprocated the kiss. Her hair, cold and slightly damp from the snowball you threw at her, was silky, smooth to run your fingers through. The repeated dying of it had definitely affected its quality, but only in the slightest.

Her voice was strained when your lips parted, but you could clearly make out what she’d said. 

I don’t want to go back tonight. I want to be here with you. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her cheek, you didn’t hesitate to wipe it away. 

“You’d be breaking some rules won’t you?” you questioned.

“I’ve broken them before. I can always break them again,” she replied, “humans were made to break some rules after all…”

With a smile, you let your hand slip into hers. It was warm, just like any other human. In her eyes, there was a gleam that every other human could possess. In her smile, there was a sincerity and joy that any other human could show. Sure, the Dispatch article that posted the photo of you kissing Yuna did call it the unexpected relationship between a top idol and a civilian. 

But in your eyes, Yuna was as human as anyone could ever be.

Dried things and humanity—An unlikely combination for a love story, but it was certainly fit to start the first chapter of your story with Yuna.

_______________________

Hello! A rare, smutless Yuna fic has mad its way onto my blog. I know it'll disappoint a lot of you guys, but this is what I wanted to write, so here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this one. Take a break from the horny and have some simple love <;3.

~Lots of love, Nichuuu

[hannahbarberra162]

Struck Twice By Lightning, Ch. 14

18+ MDNI

on Ao3

All the other chapters

I think this will be the last chapter I update this work with for a long while. I am stuck on how to end it in a satisfactory way. Sorry for the lackluster ending, I would rather leave it unfinished than publish something I don't like.

That being said, feel free to give me ideas. I do have a double secret (not actually that bad) yandere ending because of course I do, but I wanted to write a fluffy ending first.

“Who owns this pussy?” You moaned as Shanks’s unrelenting cock speared through your sopping folds. His hand was at the crown of your head, yanking at your hair, pulling your head back. You were bent over the table you’d just eaten dinner on, being pounded from behind by your husband. Your legs were spread wide by his own, taking what he gave you.

“You d-do,” you replied, hips being slammed harshly against the wood table. Marco was right, it was difficult to make Shanks overtly jealous. But what fun it was when he felt that way. You’d be deliciously bruised tomorrow but it was worth it.

“That’s my good little wife.” You arched your back off the table, trying to shift slightly. Shanks pushed your head down to the table, but carefully so as not to hurt you. “Every inch of you is mine to do with as I please. Who do you serve?” Shanks took his hand out of your hair and rolled your clit between his calloused fingers.

“You, Shanks.” You knew you were going to come soon, but you tried to hold out.

“Who do you trust?”

“You, S-shanks.” 

“Who do you love?” Shanks’s efforts redoubled, his fingers stroking you while you fluttered around his length, struggling to match his pace.

“Y-you, Shanks.” You’d done this call and response many times before, years ago. It always settled into your bones, making you feel protected and valued. This time was no different, his call to you as his wife as marking as the tattoo on your thigh.

“Who do you come for?” Your keen answered for you as you came around him, sucking him into your messy cunt. Shanks pounded you through the whole way, chasing his own high. He came right after you, filling your sore pussy. He laid on top of you, smushing you to the table, both of you breathing heavily.

“Who do you come for?” Shanks repeated quietly, kissing the middle of your sweaty back.

“You, Shanks,” you panted, still out of breath. You pushed yourself up on your arms, turning your head to kiss him softly. “You, Shanks,” you repeated. He pulled out, but was still squishing you against the table. You could feel the mess dripping down your thighs. It had been intense and fun and he’d made your legs quake just like he said he would.

“I’m hungry,” Shanks said a few moments later, biting your shoulder gently. 

“Well, you spent your whole meal with your hand up my skirt rather than eating, so yeah, I’d imagine you are. I think there are some leftovers,” you said, squeezing yourself away from the table.

“Some things must be done. It is what it is,” Shanks said, raising one shoulder. You were in the adjoining kitchen, making him a plate of food. You put a few of your homemade pickles on there too, you knew he liked anything pickled.

“Ah, they must be done. Is that why you fucked me in the exact spot Marco was sitting at?” Shanks shrugged again.

“Is that where he sat? I didn’t even notice.” Shanks tried for nonchalance but you’d known him for too long for that. You hummed, handing him the plate. He tried to walk back to the living room. You blocked his way with your arms outstretched.

“Absolutely not. In the kitchen.” Shanks pouted.

“But I wanted -”

“To eat in my chair, I know. No.” You crossed your arms over your chest and Shanks’s eyes followed your movement, looking you up and down.

“No to that too,” you said preemptively. Shanks’s mouth dropped open in mild outrage.

“I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You don’t have to. I’m not having sex with you in the chair.” Shanks huffed but sat down at the table. 

“That’s not fair.” 

“What did you say to me before?” You tapped your lip in fake contemplation. “Oh yeah, Captain’s orders. I’m the Captain of this house. No eating in the living room.”

“That’s not how Captain’s orders work,” Shanks said with a mouth full of food.

“You wouldn’t know, you’re not the Captain of the house,” you replied mirthfully. Shanks laughed too and saluted you with the pickle on his fork.

~

You were getting ready for bed, exhausted to the bones. Shanks was meandering around, looking and commenting on your knick knacks. You didn’t know how he still had energy, you figured it was from doing nothing most days of the week and conserving it.

“Aww, I remember this,” Shanks said, lifting up a small golden cross on a necklace. He pulled on the longest part of the cross to reveal a tiny little knife, no longer than half your pinky finger. “Mihawk gave this to you when he found out we’d married. It matches the one he wears.” 

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “So that doesn’t make you jealous?” 

Shanks scoffed. “Of course not, it was a wedding gift.” 

“In his card, Mihawk said I should 'cut you down in his stead' and offered me lessons.” 

“An excellent gift for newlyweds. I think the first anniversary is the weapon anniversary.” He was rummaging around, looking at old objects, curios you’d gotten in the past decade, recipes you’d clipped. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, if anything, or if he was just investigating. Shanks was naturally curious, like a little ginger cat on the prowl. 

“Look at you ,” he said, flashing you an old photo he’d found. You were in a microscopically tiny bikini with an arm slung around a girlfriend, smiling widely. You had sunglasses on, drinks in your hand, and a tan with no lines. “Where’s this suit? Bring it back with us?” Shanks asked hopefully.

You hummed and took the photo from his hand, looking it over. You remembered this trip well - it wasn’t long after you’d left Shanks, you and a girlfriend had taken a trip to a summer island known for its parties. You tried to drink away your sorrow but it hadn’t worked. It just left your bank account drained, your liver wrecked, and your heart still broken. You did look good though. You put it back on the shelf he’d plucked it from and got into bed. Pure bliss, you thought, as you lay between your sheets. Shanks’s bed was nice, but yours was better.

“Maybe. I don’t know where it is honestly.” Shanks had already moved on and was investigating your bedroom as you tried to finish your night routine. He opened the little drawer on the bedside table on his side of the bed and he made a satisfied grunt. You knew immediately what he’d found.

“There they are.” He had your engagement and wedding rings on his pinky finger and was admiring them in the moonlight. The set was nothing ostentatious, they were bands of yellow gold with a small bezel set ruby for the engagement ring. Shanks had bought them for you after the one of the first times you’d been hurt around him. You had twisted your ankle and he was carrying you back to the ship. As he carried you, the two of you passed a jewelry store. Shanks deposited you on the wooden bench in front, instructed you to wait there, and went inside. Fifteen minutes later, he proposed, saying how he couldn’t live without you, that he always wanted you near to protect you, that he needed you. At the time you felt treasured and cherished, and readily accepted despite your shock at the abrupt proposal. 

You’d always loved the rings and the way they looked, that was never the issue. The problem had always been the man who came with them. “Do you want to wear them again?” Shanks asked, still turning them over. You hesitated, getting in the bed. When you didn’t answer he looked at you. “It’s OK if you don’t,” he said gently, putting them back down. 

You turned the thought over in your mind. For years, you couldn’t even look at the rings, the physical symbol of your relationship, a mockery of the treatment you’d received by Shanks. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of them either. So you’d stuck them in the drawer on the side of the bed you didn’t sleep on and tried to forget they were there. But now, it seemed like you were being pushed back together with Shanks by the tides themselves. He wasn’t pressuring you, you knew if you told Shanks to back off, he would. Hell, if you wanted you could probably get your own cabin on the ship if you asked. 

“I’ll think about it. Bring ‘em on the ship with us.” Shanks brightened with your answer, crawling into bed beside you. His eyes slid shut as he wiggled on the bed, getting the full effect of your pillowtop mattress cover. 

“Whoa. This is…this is nice.” 

“Mmm, you’re not the only one who likes a good mattress.” Shanks’s bed was nice, but you’d missed your own. It was a four poster wooden bed and you’d strung garlands between the posts. Yours was decidedly more feminine and a little fancier, but that was one of the perks of living on land and not a ship. 

“Let’s bring this too, it’s even better than mine,” Shanks said while yawning. 

“At this rate, we’ll be bringing all my furniture with us back to the ship.” 

“Mm, excellent idea, babe. You’ve got great taste in men and furniture.” You closed your eyes. That wasn’t what you meant, but you couldn’t argue every point with Shanks. Well, you could, but you were tired and he was relentless. Sighing instead, you tucked yourself under your husband’s arm, and he pulled you closer. You fell asleep easily to the sounds of your husband’s even breath.

~~~

You supervised as the crew was moving some of your belongings to the ship the following morning. There was grumbling, you assumed they were all hungover. To thank them, you opened a barrel of pickles you’d kept preserving over the time you’d been gone. And yes, you promised them sake after they were done. To be fair, moving your stuff was a lot of work. Not only was some of it heavy and cumbersome, but it seemed like Shanks wanted to move everything you owned onto the ship. You had to keep sending him back into the house to leave various belongings.

“No, we’re not bringing that, put it back,” you said offhand to Shanks while watching Beckman carry your mattress with Yasopp. Shanks was holding your wooden sword rack from your living room. 

“But why? I could use it at night to put-” 

“You have one sword. It doesn’t need a rack. I have a bunch. Put the rack back on the wall and my swords back on the rack.” He was going to dismantle everything you owned at this rate. He set down the rack on the ground and instead took another pickle from the barrel you’d put outside.

“We could bring all your swords?” Shanks mused.

“No, they stay here. We have enough swords on the -”

“Hey!! Be careful Lucky! That’s important!” Shanks yelled out, sword rack forgotten. You looked over, and unsurprisingly, Lucky was carrying the armchair. 

“You could help, you know!” the chef yelled back, sweating from exertion. Yeah, the chair was heavy. You knew because you’d tried to move it a few times yourself. Shanks looked like he might put down the pickle he was munching on and help, which was saying a lot. 

In the end, you had the guys bring your mattress, your chair, and a few trunks of clothes, towels, and blankets. You’d been using Shanks’s aboard the Red Force and you weren’t sure if Shanks knew that towels had to be washed. Like, regularly. Howling Gab and Limejuice begged you to bring your crocs and make more pickles. The men had eaten their way through all the pickles you’d made, which was both impressive and disgusting. It wasn’t making sake, but bringing the huge clay jars would give you something to do on the ship.

Walking through your now disheveled house for one last time, you felt a little sad knowing it wouldn’t be your place of refuge anymore. You’d spent so much of your life here, making it into a home you could be proud of. But there wasn’t anything to be done, you needed to leave for your own safety. You fiddled with the wedding rings you now wore on a chain around your neck. Sighing, you felt the smooth wood of the front door under your palm as you shut it, not bothering to lock it. Shanks was waiting for you, waiting to see if you wanted to be left alone or have him by your side. You put your head on his shoulder, he patted it gently and gave you a chaste kiss on the temple.

“We’ll be back, it’s not forever,” he said quietly. You knew you could come back to your house again, but it wouldn't be the same. It felt like a chapter in your life closed and a new one began.  You kissed Shanks on the cheek, put your hand in his, and walked back together towards the ship.

[tinytalkingtina]

The True Face of Bravery

Written for the @steddiemicrofic June challenge prompt, using the word "stuff" and max 483 words.

483 words | Rating: T (for a single swear word)

Tags: Fantasy DnD AU, Tiefling Steve Harrington, Anti-Tiefling racism, Steve Harrington has bad parents, implied child abuse, first kiss

Ao3 link

"'Mi'lord', your squire is whining he can't find your club, the one with the spikes and-um." Eddie froze with his hands still on the tent flap, staring at Steve. And surely this was Steve, he had the same facial features and clothes as Stephen Harrington, heir to the Barony of Loch Nora and paladin extraordinaire. Except Stephen Harrington didn't have luminous red skin, or a pair of horns that spiraled up out of his hair and curved back over themselves just above his ears. And he certainly didn't normally have a pointed tail poking out from his trousers. Before Eddie could even begin to think of retreating, he found himself roughly yanked inside the tent. “Wait!” Eddie flailed, wrenching himself out of Steve's grasp. “Please don't kill me! As fitting as it would be for Eddie the Banished to die at the hand of a noble I really would rather it not happen today, I promise I can keep my mouth shut and—“ Eddie stopped babbling as he took in how badly Steve was trembling. Weaponless, he had only moved to block the tent flap. Steve lifted a shaking hand to his nose. "Father was right, it was always going to come down to an act of stupidity on my part. Just, let me finish this mission, please." Eddie blinked, still wrapping his head around his companion’s true appearance. "What?" "Vecna is a blight on these lands. Even if the Order is going to expel me once they know, I swore an oath to slay him. I'm asking that you wait to turn me in until we're done. I promise, I'll go quietly." "Why would I turn you in?" Steve's tail twitched when he was anxious. "Have you somehow missed that I'm the shameful reminder of my ancestor's wrongdoings?” he said, clearly mimicking something he had been told many times over. Eddie took a tentative step forward. "And what makes you think I give a flying fuck what stuff society or your Order believes? Sweetheart, I'm just impressed you've managed to hide yourself for this long." "As a child my parents wouldn't let me leave my chambers until I could cast illusion magic." Steve whispered. "But why—” "You're kind of the ideal paladin, you know?" Eddie barreled on. "Always throwing yourself headlong into danger to protect others. You're kind and funny and," he blushed, "absolutely breathtaking. If those abyssal chickens hadn't broken my lute, I would immediately start composing something about the swirl of your horns." "You would...oh." Red hands with black-tipped claws reached out to gently encircle his waist. Eddie shyly reached up to tuck a loose lock of Steve's hair behind one of his horns. "Come on, let's get some rest. You have an undead lich to slay tomorrow, Sir Stephen the Brave,” he said softly. The equally soft kiss he received in response spoke of something much longer than tomorrow.

Some tidbits of trivia/more babbling about this AU under the cut!

I've had an idea for a DnD AU for a long time, featuring members of the nobility Harringtons who made a deal with a devil in exchange for power and wealth. When their first-born son was a born a tiefling, to hide their shame, they at first kept him hidden from view, then, once he learned magic, forced him to constantly cast disguise self to appear human.

As a paladin, he is driven to helping those in need, but doesn't like anyone touching his hair (they'll feel his horns under the illusion magic) hence his nickname "the Hair". Dustin is an artificer gnome, his loyal if mouthy squire, while Eddie is a half elf bard who doesn't initially like "Mr goody two shoes shining knight".

Vecna is a literal undead evil lich causing trouble from his own pocket dimension, dubbed "The Upside Down".

Also Abyssal chickens are in fact a real DnD monster and they are adorably terrifying.

[shanastoryteller]

Thanks so much for telling me that it deleted 😅

Um happy birthday! I was actually gonna ask for time travel drarry this time 😂

Thanks again and have a great day!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

They’re cautiously moving their way though the chamber, Draco letting him lead with only a minimum of arguing. Harry likes to think that the fact he’s a parselmouth, an auror, and has been here before is compelling, but honestly he thinks Draco agreed just so Harry would be eaten first if something goes wrong.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Harry can’t help but say, “we shouldn’t be doing this, I guess, but you started it. We shouldn't be changing anything, especially this far in the past. Who knows what it could mess up?”

Draco scoffs. “Again, how do you think we’re going to make things worse? What sort of future are you worried about preserving anyway?”

“Things are good, now,” he says, and wants to check Draco’s expression but can’t bring himself to stop looking around corners for the first hint of the basilisk.

“For who?” Draco presses. “I don’t know what war you lived through, but the one I did was complete shit.”

“And you could make it even worse by meddling!” he insists. Talking is also probably a bad idea, but with his luck it’ll be his first tell that the basilisk is near by – that he starts hissing rather than speaking. “Things could have gone even more to shit, and now they might, because of you!”

Draco snorts. “Typical. You know, some people actual value the things they lose, and aren’t exactly eager to lose them again.”

Harry stops moving and Draco nearly walks into him before he realizes it. He whirls around, now shoving his wand in Draco’s face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Just because you’re a cliché doesn’t mean you have to throw a fit about it. Clichés are clichés for a reason, after all,” he says in a tone that Harry thinks is actually supposed to be soothing.

He’s not in the mood to be soothed. “I value what I lose.”

“No, you don’t. Your tragedy is tragic, Harry, but it’s not special. All you do is lose so you can’t linger on it. Parents, homes, friends – what’s it mean to lose them to you? You’ve lost them all, multiple times, and you’re just fine.” Draco makes a face, then shrugs. “For a given definition. Because you never think any of it is yours to keep, so the loss can’t hurt as much. Which is fine for you, and all your fucked up problems, but I’m not like you. What I lost is important to me and I’m not fine about it and I’m going to do whatever I can to get it back.”

It's the cruelest thing Draco’s ever said to him and the worst part is how he says it, irritated but casual, like it’s something unremarkable about him that’s obvious to everyone.

Maybe it is.

No wonder he could never get passed the third date with anyone.

Draco crouches down, yanking him against the wall. Harry’s surprised enough to let him. “Do you hear that?”

He almost says no automatically but he takes a second to try and hear something over their breathing.

Well, looks like they found the basilisk.

[shadowqueenjude]

Ranking the top 10 most pathetic SJM men

10: Ithan Holstrom Come on, if you didn't think him simping for Bryce after knowing her for like 5 seconds was pathetic then idk what is. Also, him being mad about the Fendyr heir being enslaved and stealing fire sprites for revenge will never not be hilarious

9: Fenrys Moonbeam Bro was so desperate to escape Maeve that he almost killed himself. Then he had that "You'd rather my queen die than your king" line. Like bro is Aelin's dog at this point.

8. Eris Vanserra Thanks to @kateduchessofdolittle for making me see how pathetic Eris is.

-Fiancee goes to *great lengths* to get out their engagement. After all that, bro still bailed her out by dealing with her father Keir in ACOSF

- Got to be a passive little bitch to monster father

- seems to be a surrogate father to the *worst* people

- he's giving mama's boy

- his allies taunt him with another engagement and she laughs in his face too

At least he has his dogs.

7. Hunt Athalar Not sure how to explain this one. It's just the *vibes*

6. Tarquin Poor Tarquin. I felt so bad for him during that Feyre-Tarquin scene in ACOMAF (one of these days I shall write the Feyquin fanfic and rectify Feyre's mistakes here).

5. Ruhn Danaan You may be surprised Ruhn is so high up on this list. But bro, Hypaxia duped him so badly. Also, he was so desperate to get back in his sister Bryce's good books. Here are just a few examples from the book:

Ruhn bared his teeth at Maximus as the glowering vamp headed toward the golden steps. “Riso called me a few minutes ago and said you were here. With that fucking creep.” “Excuse me?” Her voice sharpened. It had nothing to do with the fact that she highly doubted the diplomatic club owner had used those terms. Riso was more the type to say, She’s with someone who might cause the dancing to cease. Which would have been Riso’s idea of Hel. Ruhn said, “Riso can’t risk tossing Tertian to the curb—he implied the prick was being handsy and you needed backup.” A purely predatory gleam entered her brother’s eyes. “Don’t you know what Tertian’s father does?” She grinned, and knew it didn’t reach her eyes. None of her smiles did these days. “I do,” she said sweetly. Ruhn shook his head in disgust. Bryce leaned forward to grab her drink, each movement controlled—if only to keep from taking the water and throwing it in his face. “Shouldn’t you be home?” Ruhn asked. “It’s a weekday. You’ve got work in six hours.” “Thanks, Mom,” she said.

She just opened the door. “If you hear anything about the Viper Queen, call me.” Ruhn stiffened, his heart thundering. “Do not provoke her.” “Bye, Ruhn.” He was desperate enough that he said, “I’ll go with you to—” “Bye.”

She flinched as Ruhn said at her ear, “You don’t need to see this.” This was another murder. Another body. Another year. A medwitch even knelt before the body, a wand buzzing with firstlight in her hands, trying to piece the corpse—the girl—back together. Ruhn tugged her away, toward the screen and open air beyond— The movement shook her loose. Snapped the droning in her ears. She yanked her body free from his grip, not caring if anyone else saw, not caring that he, as head of the Fae Aux units, had the right to be here. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Ruhn’s mouth tightened. But he looked over her shoulder to Hunt. “You’re an asshole.”

Ruhn was in the apartment lobby when Fury dropped her off. Tharion left them at the docks, saying he was going to help haul in the seized synth shipment, and Fury departed fast enough that Bryce knew she was heading out to make sure the Viper Queen didn’t abscond with any of it, either. Ruhn said nothing as they rode the elevator. But she knew Fury had told him. Summoned him here. Her friend had been messaging someone on the walk back from the docks. And she’d spied Flynn and Declan standing guard on the rooftops of her block, armed with their long-range rifles. Her brother didn’t speak until they were in the apartment, the place dark and hollow and foreign. Every piece of clothing and gear belonging to Hunt was like an asp, ready to strike. That bloodstain on the couch was the worst of all. Bryce made it halfway across the great room before she puked all over the carpet. Ruhn was instantly there, his arms and shadows around her. She could feel her sobs, hear them, but they were distant. The entire world was distant as Ruhn picked her up and carried her to the couch, keeping away from that spot where she’d yielded herself entirely to Hunt. But he made no comment about the bloodstain or any lingering scent. 4. Lucien Vanserra (or Spell-Cleaver? Vanserra sounds better)

Ah, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien. My poor baby just wants somebody to marry him. Does it get any more pathetic than "I'm a mated male now?" My man prepares for rejection every holiday without fail. He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. 3. Chaol Westfall I don't think many people remember Lithaen, but Chaol was in love with her and she fucked Dorian's cousin instead. Also there was this:

Babe, ily but wtf. You ran into a different fucking dimension to save your ex-girlfriend's DOG??? Talk about pathetic. 2. Lorcan Salvaterre Bro abandoned the queen he served more loyally than any of the rest of the cadre the moment a tiny little human with witch blood showed a little cleavage and bossed him around. Bro wanted to be someone's bitch SO BAD. He RIPPED his shirts up for her periods even after she refused to even speak with him and said she hopes he's miserable and spends the rest of his life alone (and threatened to gut Rowan and Gavriel if they ever told her it was him). He swore a blood oath to his greatest enemy just to protect her and lost the will to live when she called him a monster. Absolutely fucking pathetic and we love him for it. 1. Tamlin It was a close fight to first, but nobody can beat Tamlin in the pathetic category. For one, of all the love interests we have seen, he is in possession of the least rizz. Negative rizz, actually. Lucien actually roasted him so badly for his negative rizz, and Lucien personally backed off so Tamlin and his negative rizz could rizz up Feyre. Bro sacrificed all of PRYTHIAN to keep Feyre safe, bartered with his enemy to get her back, only to have her destroy his court. Even after that, he saved her life at the Hybern camp and revived her mate. And unlike the others above, he didn't get the girl, and probably won't get any girl, actually. We could always put him up for adoption and one of the members of the fandom can take him? Maybe??? Maybe @kateduchessofdolittle will take him.

[pastara-cell]

Dear fellow freablr members, How many of you would be interested in a Synesthesia Drew Au? I’ve recently gotten my meds back, and my rule of “6 aus at most at a time” was lacking an au, so For a little preview of what you’d be getting:

>Drew has Sound-to-color synesthesia. Aka, words, and especially music, cause him to see different colours. Specifically, He sees it in his vision, rather than his head.

>the Au takes place, starting at the moment drew met jake, up until the events after the drakeup

>He drowns out music and talking a lot using his airpods and phone, putting on playlists of rain sounds, one of the few things he can listen to thats calming that doesn’t cloud his vision much.

>The louder the noise for him, the more intense the colour is. Still the same colour

>Drew has heard jake sing, albeit he thought jake just had a talent for it and didn’t think to ask him about it. Jake’s singing is Orange to him, patterns and shapes depending on what he’s singing

>The music club is…Well, from what he can hear through the door, Is black and white. Patterns and shapes still depending on what he hears.

>Zanders voice (The way he sounds and all) makes him see pink. He’s rather irritated that zander is purple.

>Liam and henry know about his synesthesia because they stole his medical records one night and went through them. Drew also has their medical records. Outside of those two, no one knew.

>Drew doesn’t keep it a secret per say, he’d say “Well you never asked. So…”

>Sometimes its really bad for him sensory wise, but its not the reason he bullies the music club. Dont worry guys, not giving him a reason to justify that. Takes away from his character

If people are interested in this, I’ll add it to my list! And if people want to yank this idea, absolutely! Don’t even ask! Write it, draw it, do whatever, just tag me so I can see it! I love this concept so much, but I felt it was too far from the canon to be a headcanon, so AU it is!

(also, if you wanna swap out/add in sound to taste synesthesia, that’d be absolutely great. F#? I think you mean the taste of Orange juice)

[lovejosephquinn]

Okay so I have a request about Joe x reader where they are having a rough day of work and there tired and all they wanna do is just relax and be with eachother so they go take a warm shower together but then it turns into steamy rough hot shower sex but like making love if you know what I mean and all there doing is just loving on eachother and admiring themselves but like it still rough in a way 😶

I'm sorry I hoped that made sense lol if you do this please Tag me 🤌✨️

💀This was not my face when I read this scenario

Your wish is granted, thank you for your request @anonymousstoryteller2000 ❤

UNDER 18'S DNI, SO MUCH SMUT BYE.

You slumped down on the sofa next to Joe after the end of a long, hard week at work, slanting your head backwards and arching down the sofa like you didn't even have the energy to sit up straight.

"Bad day, baby?" Joe muttered, taking a sip of his tea.

"The worst, I'm so done with work this week."

"You, me both love, we need a cosy and lazy weekend in I think, just me and you laid in our own filth, no better company than that." Joe's suggestion was heavenly, it wasn't often he wanted to do just nothing, his personality was just not built that way, he always had to have something planned so knowing that's all he wanted was music to your ears right now.

"I'm so ready for that." You stretched your arms out, falling down so your head down laid onto his lap.

"I know just the way to begin."

"Yeah, what's that?" You faced up to Joe, he stroked along your cheek and down your jaw line admiringly.

"I say, we take a shower together and then I snuggle the shit out of you for the rest of the evening, tucked up in our big bed." Nothing could've actually sounded more appealing.

You sat up in a hurry as Joe stood up before you, yanking your hand to pull you onto your feet and doing a silly run to the bathroom, making you chuckle when he heaved you forward, and your face planted straight into his back.

Joe got the water running, whilst the both of you undressed. Joe offered you his hand for you to take the small step up first and followed you in, shutting the shower door behind him. Grabbing a hold of the sponge and body wash, squirting some on and turning round to wash your body for you. You hummed at his soft stance, the way he touched you so delicately and got in between all the crevasses that revitalised you. Joe thought it'd be funny to spray the shower head in your face shortly after that, his chaotic behaviour showing as quick as ever. You spat the water that landed in your mouth straight onto him. "You're gross." Joe frowned pathetically at you. "Shut up." you smiled, tip toeing up to reach his face and giving him a wet peck on his soft lips.

The sponge still in hand, Joe rubbed it along your chest and slowly it met your breasts, he sighed deeply as he gently soaked them with the sponge. "You're so beautiful, you know."

"Me or my boobs?" You looked down and back to watch his gaze burning the mental image of them into his brain.

"Both." He pulled a cheeky smile, his eyes finally meeting yours again. You stole the sponge from him and began to wash his body down in return and without a sudden warning, he snatched it from you throwing it into the corner. What started off as a simple, plain and quite simply cute idea, turned into a heated mess rather quickly.

"I knew this would be a good idea." Joe stated flirtaciously.

"You'd planned it all along, hadn't you?"

Joe pinned your arms back, your body hitting the wall as he pushed you all the way. "Maybe."

"Aren't I allowed to enjoy my time with my girlfriend?"

"You horny bastard."

"Correction." he tilted his head to the side, his pupils dilating at the sight of you restrained by his hands had his cock standing to attention within a mere few seconds. "Your horny bastard."

With that, Joe's lips met yours once more but with a fiercer touch. His cock grinding against your thigh, his hands still firmly clutched around your wrists so you couldn't move them. His tongue attacked the inside of your mouth, lapping up your saliva and taking it for his own. The water sprayed a top of you both, wetting you through but making the excitement a hundred times hotter. The steam from the shower heat had you both even more flustered, but you paid that no attention.

Joe released one of his hands and moved it down from your face, pinching your nipples harshly on the way down making you gasp into his mouth, his low, malicious laugh returned straight back into yours and then it landed right where it needed to be. His fingers delve in-between the slit of your pussy, expertly finding your clit and rubbing at it forcefully.

Your thighs shuddered and your moans echoed across the bathroom, falling louder and sharper with each breath the more it urged him to rub faster. "That feel good the way I play with your cunt, yeah?" You whimpered at his words, the way they just spewed out of his mouth so pleasantly had always been such a turn on for you, he was a master at filthy conversation, and he knew it drove you insane.

"Joe slow down, I'm going to-"

"Oh no you're not." Joe stopped and picked you up in an instant, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, you got the hint, wrapping an arm around his neck for complete support and leaning down and taking a hold of his already leaking shaft, placing it at your entrance, he moved you down a little to let your hole devour him, taking every inch perfectly as you sank down. Your moans sang at the same pitch, wanting everything you could possibly give one another in that single second. "You going to just stand there staring at me a little while longer or are you going to fuck me anytime soon?" you were seriously impatient, especially because he'd robbed you of your orgasm near enough 5 minutes ago.

"Beg me."

"You're inside of me, I don't need to beg."

"Beg me." He repeated slowly, his completely blacked out eyes stared right into your soul, you could've melted into a puddle right then and there with how intense it felt, it only made the knot in your stomach awaiting your release tighter.

You gave up, knowing he wouldn't begin until you did as he asked. "Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Your thick cock feels so good inside of me." you whined, knowing the exact tone of your voice would work a treat. It did. His cock throbbed against your tight walls.

"Alright, alright I will." The theatrics played and he gestured as if he'd never asked you to beg in the first place. He bit down on his bottom lip giving you the sexiest giggle you'd ever heard as he began to buck his hips into you slowly, gaining a good rhythm and watching you begin to writhe in his arms. "Yeah, you love that don't you, baby. You going to cum all over me?" Silly question. Yes.

The deeper he got, the harder he went. Your nails trailed down his neck and onto his lower back leaving clear scratches along it, goosebumps rising where you'd touched. "Fuck, you take my cock so well, you're such a good girl." You were squirming mid-way up in the air now, fighting back the inevitable feeling that was almost upon you, his speed had escalated rapidly, the tip of his cock hitting right up to your cervix as you cried out. "J-J-Joe."

"Yeah, that's it, tell me how good it feels." Joe raised his voice at the intensity of pleasure, his need to release himself becoming more apparent alongside yours. "You fuck me so good, please. Don't stop, give me everything."

"Your wish is my command my love." He slammed his hips sharply, making you scream out several fucks and calls of his name. Your orgasm floored you in that one last push, the sensitive climax filling your body, making it tingle everywhere, your entrance throbbing around the base of Joe's cock. Feeling your walls clench saw Joe's orgasm hit its peak, his arms became almost too weak to hold you up as the loud, lengthy, unholy moans ejected out of his mouth; the seed which filled you to the brim, feeling every last spurt of it erupt and ache inside of you. Joe lifted you off and slowly brought you too your feet, lifting his head up above the shower head for a moment, rubbing his hands over the water slapping him in the face. You wrapped your arms around his waist, enveloping him in an embrace so the water hit you to, but you still remained close as you thoroughly wanted. His hands soothed around your back, fingertips dancing up and down your spine as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. "I love you Y/N."

You couldn't have felt more destressed as he uttered your favourite three words in his cute and now gentle tone. "I love you too, Joe."

Turning off the water, Joe grabbed the towels off the rail and handed you yours, stepping out of the shower one by one you dried yourselves off in silence, your thoughts overtaking you both on where you were and what you were up to previously.

Joe was the first to break the tranquillity. "Do I get my little spoon now?"

"Only if I get my big spoon. I missed him today."

Joe wrapped his towel around his waist and proceeded to slither his hands around your now covered body, cradling you from behind.

Joe moved your hair to lean against your opposite shoulder as he whispered into your ear before leaving a light feathered kiss onto it. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"Don't go pushing that divine booty onto my cock or you'll be getting more than just a one-off fuck in the shower tonight."

Turning your eyes to look straight into the soft twinkle of his, tilting your head slightly, you answered the only honest way you knew how, cheekily. "I can't make you a promise I can't keep."

"You're such a horny bitch." Joe snorted a laugh.

"Correction." you gestured his reply from earlier on. "Your horny bitch."

[thecameronchronicles]

The Photoshoot

TW: Smut. Madelyn Cline x FEM!reader. Language. Semi-public sex. 

SUMMARY: Accompanying Madelyn to a photoshoots ends rather unexpectedly when feelings (and hormones) come to the surface. 

WORD COUNT: 1700

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

The Photoshoot

Your eyes always found a way to her since the moment you met her. That infectious smile worn well behind eyes of a siren made for a contrast that became her aesthetic. Just as she could illuminate a room with laughter, she could leave everyone sweating from a wink or set of sultry words. Of course, you knew this better than anyone. Always admiring her from some friendly perspective, always curious to know more...

"A few more, Madelyn, and then we'll switch to Dior..." She nodded, angled towards the camera as requested. No matter the product she was selling, you would have been the first to buy. A perfume? You had three on pre-order. A vacation? You'd spend every dime for just a chance to sit next to her. It didn't matter, you supported her, always. 

"Last one." Your lips parted to speak as you were prepared to offer her some refreshment from the table across from the scene. But as you approached her, she stripped for the next costume. Due to the comfort she had for those surrounding her, she was shameless to this, all while you were awestruck. 

You've seen her in enough bikinis to nearly loathe the makeup of them entirely, but this was different. The bare skin of her back making your bi-curious visions prominent enough to dry out your mouth and soak your panties. Every single thought making it difficult to think of looking her in the eyes. 

"Can you help me?" Her voice tore you from your thoughts. Visions of your hands greedily fondling her skin as her lips pressed softly into your and your eyes were redirected by your name spoken by her once again. A light chuckle only worsening your blush as she smirked. 

"I can't get the damned zipper..." She groaned before motioning to the bathroom where the outfits had hung on the shower of the hotel room. 

This was a reckless idea. An enclosed space. Raging hormones. Desperations. Everything, a clusterfuck of the need to act. And yet you never knew if she reciprocated those types of feelings for anyone else. She commented constantly how she adored her single life, the feeling of freedom making her feel almost invincible. Not only this, but the wonder if she preferred girls in general had become a more dire question. She was flirtatious and sensual in every effortless movement which only complicated this further. 

"You're gonna have to really yank at it...it gets jammed..." She explained as you nodded. 

"Be honest with me?" You tried to focus on anything but her skin. Tanned. Warm. Just within reach. Smelling of the perfect mix of coconut and vanilla that made your head spin. 

"These outfits are hideous right?" She laughed at herself in the mirror. A rather gaudy ensemble definitely washing out her natural beauty. 

"I think...you look good in everything." 

"You're just saying that because you want the free food." She teased as you shrugged, before she abruptly turned towards you. 

"I really value your opinion..." 

"I think...it's impossible for you to look bad." You spoke honestly, blushing, before your eyes fell away. 

"I'm sorry for being all insecure about it...But are you having fun?" Her eyes seemed lower. Not in direction per say as more of weight. Sultry. Lustful even. 

"I like seeing the behind the scenes stuff...You always see the pictures when they're done but never when they're being done, so..." Her brows rose. 

"So maybe I could bring you along to all of them. Maybe snag you an outfit or two? The designers usually give you something...and you'd look incredible in everything..." Your cheeks worsened in their crimson glow.

"I mean it..." She now pulled you before the mirror. 

"Here..." She pulled the elastic band from your hair and forced it down your cheeks. 

"You could absolutely sell anything. I mean...I'd buy it..." 

Your eyes found hers in the reflection, a momentary hold of mutual intent fading to the sound of a voice on the other side of the door. 

"Something happened with one of the cameras, we're talking fifteen." 

"Perfect." She called back as her eyes stayed on you. Her fingers tracing your arms as you convinced yourself you were reading too much into this. Even as she smiled a moment too long. Even as she brushed your hair over your shoulder. Even as she bit her bottom lip and took a step closer. 

"I mean it, you know...I would try what you offered...Perfume..." Her nose brushed your neck as you fought to keep your eyes closed, certain she was filling the time in humoring herself. 

"Lipstick..." She held one hand to your waist and another to your cheek before pressing you softly into the mirror. The softest pair of lips pulling you into a breathless kiss as your hands came up to her arms. 

"Lingerie..." Her hands teased the sight of your bra visible from the chosen shirt. 

"You make me want to try you..." She kissed you again, remaining soft, but lengthening the duration of the kiss as you fell into her. A foreign comfort somehow in existence until her hands pulled your tee from the tuck made into your capris. 

"You are so beautiful..." She kissed into your neck. "I want to make you feel beautiful..." 

"Maddy..." 

"Shh, don't want them to hear you...gotta stay professional." She offered a delicate kiss as you were returned to her body. 

"Take it off..." The words hadn't come from her lips, a surprise to you both as she obliged to your request. 

"I want you to touch me wherever you want-" You were quick to reach for her lips again before your hands rose to her breasts. Both taking turns of learning each other's quirks and kinks before she pulled your shirt over your head and left you solely on lingerie. 

"Please let me play with them...they look so good…" She whined as you unclasped your bra and her fingers brushed immediately over your nipples. 

"Oh my God...how do even your nipples taste good? It's making me so wet…" Your eyes rolled to the heat of her mouth as she nibbled on the hardened tips. 

"Here..." She brought your hands within her own strapless bra as your tongue coerced her bottom lip wider. 

"Have you ever done this before?" 

"No..." You answered her as she grinned. 

"Ha-have you?" 

"No..." 

"But everything you're doing feels so good..." You gasped and moaned as she kissed you once again. A small moan from her lips as one hand moved from her breast and between your legs as she rubbed slow circles into the cargo fabric. 

"I've been curious for a long time...And now since I know you are too, I don't want to make you regret this..."

"Did you get this wet watching me?" You nodded, slowly shameless with each passing point of contact. 

"Poor thing...you've been sitting there for hours..." She unbuttoned your bottoms before she guided you to step out of them. 

"Cute panties..." You nodded to hers. 

"Sorry we can't do this on a bed...But we'll make it work..." She led you towards the sink before kissing your lips again. A greedy kiss that fell down your jaw and breasts before she set two fingers into her mouth. A satisfying pop making you drip already as she circled her fingers against your clit. 

"Is this okay?" 

"Oh my God..." You confessed with a sharp inhale. 

"You don't have to, though, Maddy..." 

"And miss this face? These little sounds...not a chance...But it is making me need your fingers..." She sucked your fingers and guided them against her. 

"Wanna play a game?" Your eyes came open. 

"See who can make the other come first? We only have about ten minutes now..." She turned her head while looking in the small space between you. 

"But I won't even need that will I?" You shook your head as she bit her bottom lip and slipped her finger inside of you. Her thumb staking claim to your clit as you mirrored this to her. 

"I love your fingers..." She moaned, head falling back for just a moment before you needed her lips again. She smiled to your guidance as you added a second finger and accelerated your touch. 

"Yes...that's so good...better than any one of my vibrators..." She explained as the thought came to your mind. the words leaving your lips before you could stop them. 

"I want to watch you come with one..."

"I always do when I think about this...Every...fucking...time...I wish I had it now to make it better for us…Wonder what sounds you'd make with it…I'd share…" Her hand wrapped around yours with desperation. 

"Please don't stop..." Her mouth pulled apart in pleasure, an image you wanted to keep forever. But nothing felt quite like the way she clenched around your fingers. 

"I want us to come together...." She whimpered. 

"I'll come when you do..." You validated breathlessly as she played with your nipples with her other hand before taking you against her mouth. A deep French kiss and a grinding of your bodies as you became lost in each other. 

"You feel so fucking good..." She moaned. "I'm gonna come...you're gonna make me…I'm gonna scream…it's so…good! It's so good! " You kept her shriek quiet by capturing her moans within your mouth. Your body tensing as hers shook, the utterance of your name being all it took to spill over against her. 

"Shit..." You confessed as she chuckled within her recovery. 

"That was...so worth the wait...fuck..." She kissed you again, whining before taking you back against the sink in deepening the kiss. Her fingers continuing inside of you for a moment as you moaned in response. 

"I want you to do it again…mmm…" You moved with her, your thighs clenching around her as you nodded. 

"I want to make you come again for me…I wanna bend you over this sink and make you watch how you look when you do so you'll understand why I'm making this floor so wet…"

"How am I supposed to focus now? Jesus!" You laughed. 

"How about we get the rest of this over with and then we see what we can do to each other with a full bed?" 

"I'd like that..." She kicked your ankles apart, watching you drip. 

"I see that..." She took her fingers between your folds and sucked your release as her eyes rolled. 

"I'm going to be looking forward to tasting more...Think you can stop dripping long enough to keep this our little secret?" 

"Only if you stop doing things like that..." You reminded as she nodded. 

"Fair. Now how about we actually get me zipped up? I want to have the rest of the night with you. So many dirty little fantasies I have to do..." 

"Please hurry..."

"Just one more kiss…" She turned back to you, a deep French kiss making you moan for her. 

"I want that to be the only sound you make tonight."

"Oh, it will be…"

"I'll make sure of it…"

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[echoes-lighthouse]

Niche gender facts for my vampires selfship:

Gabrielle is a she/her lesbian man. There is a measure of bigender at work, but mostly she's just a man. I also headcanon her as having bad dysphoria, especially in sexual situations.

Lestat genuinely identifies as whichever gender you're attracted to, but also feels attached to the idea of being a 'man who is sometimes a woman,' with an emphasis on the masculinity as the through-line.

My self insert is constantly trying to push that line because they just love Lestat's femme vibes. They're like that with all of the vampires around them, trying to yank them into the genderfuck femme presentation that they themself inhabit. Not everyone reacts well to it, but my self-insert is unphased.

Gabrielle doesn't understand Lestat's urge to play with gender: if she could be 'just a man,' then she would, but it's not an option for her. Whereas Lestat very consciously enters into alternate gender spaces, and it rubs Gabrielle the wrong way sometimes, like he's 'giving up' something that he doesn't value enough.

Armand has a relationship with gender that is complicated by the age he was turned: identifying as a boy first and an adult gender second.

Both Armand and my self-insert view gender as a tool to be wielded: Armand will refer to me with different pronouns depending on how he wishes me to be perceived, and I dress mostly for the same effect: sometimes I want to be seen as a feminine object, and other times as a masculine object. (I never think of clothing related to myself as a sentient/animate creature, only the appearance on the surface, which is depersonalized into a mannequin, doll, or mask- part of why there's a theme in this selfship of other people choosing my clothes for me)

Daniel identifies as a man but does dabble in crossdressing but distinctly as a 'man in a dress' category. Relates to it more in terms of humiliation rather than celebration.

Louis's relationship with genderplay is far more about giving himself space for a break from masculine gender performance: a space to stretch out from the rigidity that he's kept himself in. He still does identify as a man, but having a chance to be a man who is treated as a woman or spoken of with feminine terms is something that speaks very deeply to his struggle with 'sufficient masculinity.'