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jjklvr9 · 4 months ago

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ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) ᯓ★

18+ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 .ᐟ

𐙚 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 : 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽!𝖲𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𐙚 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ⇢ 𝖨𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋.

𐙚 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 : smut- 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈n ... 𝖽𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀!

𐙚 𝗐.𝖼 : 10.8𝗄

𝖺/𝗇: 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗅…𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗒𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀…𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌! :)

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ♡

⌌⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍⌌⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍⌌⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍

The pitter-patter of the rain befalls your roof, the sound echoing in your ears as you stare out the window of your room. Greying clouds shrouded the sky, covering what little left of the sun was visible in the storm brewing on what was supposed to be a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon. Well, it still is lovely.

Usually on days like these, the floor of your room would be cold to the touch of your feet and the only thing offering you comfort would be the covers you would hide under your bed; which you were in as of now with some extra warmth beside your lying body. You turn your head to the side to face the sleeping figure next to you, his arms wrapped around your waist securely like it was held on by a lock. The dark strands of hair fall on his face perfectly, covering his closed lids so gently it barely poked his skin. You make use of the time to study his features, his sharply curved nose, his inviting plump-coloured lips to counting all the spotted moles perfectly decorating his soft skin.

He looked perfect in this state of his yet there was a heaviness pulling the back of your throat, the palpitations of your heartbeat increasing the more you tried to hold in from bursting into tears. It was exhausting, having to rationalize yourself and bury the feelings that arise when looking at him like that. It felt so right and wrong all at the same time, you blame nobody but yourself for the demise brought to your own heart.

His chest was moving up and down pace fully as his breath softly contacted your face, the tip of his nose inches away from brushing yours; ever so gentle and vulnerable like that next to you, holding you as he continued to slumber like the world outside never grew dark. It was really, a lovely Sunday afternoon. Well, that was until you heard the sound of your younger brother’s loud chatter and footsteps covering up the walls of your house, sounding closer each second as he made his way up the stairs to his room next to yours.

Immediately snapping yourself out of your daze from the loud bang of his door closing shut, your eyes widen in horror as they are still locked onto the boy’s face next to yours. This was not good. You had to wake him up quickly before anyone finds out he was ever here, in your bed; before your brother finds out his best friend was lying next to you. “Sunghoon! Wake up!” you hiss under your breath as you shake his arm, trying your hardest to be gentle with your touch yet making it known how urgently he needs to act. “Hmm? What?” the boy groans, eyes still fully closed and no attempt of waking up was made with the arm around your waist instead tightening and pulling you closer to him. “No, wake up! Jungwon is home.” You try to pry yourself off his hold and hope he gets up this time with the mention of your brother, his best friend. And how this was not a situation any of you wanted to deal with right now.

“Oh.” Finally, Sunghoon opens his eyes and unlike your panicked ones, they are tired. Maybe even sad? Who knows, but you did feel your heartstrings pull a little bit at the sight of his locked gaze, feeling all sorts of bad at how you ruined his peaceful sleep to have to go running out in the rain that probably caused him to feel what you assumed was sad. You stop your movements of trying to get his grip off your waist once your eyes stay on each other’s for a few beats too long, not entirely sure why he was still in place. The longer the silence and the sound of only your breaths and rain outside took over the moment, the warmer you felt your cheeks turning. Seeing him like this felt like a new angle into things when he is awake and staring right into the window of your soul.

For some reason, what were mere minutes felt like an eternity that you seemed to find yourself lost in his captivation, searching for meaning behind every glint that shone in the pupils of his dark brown orbs. You could see yourself in them staring right back at you and you wonder if he sees the same thing as you.

“Right, I better go then.” He snaps you back to the reality of the moment, the reality of the situation you need to get out of. The warmth of his skin disappears as fast as he pulls himself away from you, rolling over and getting up from your bed in search of his scattered clothing on the floor. It seems he does not waste any time in getting ready to leave, putting himself back into one piece presentable enough like whatever happened before the sun rose never did. You did not take any offense to it though, knowing how it goes. He is your brother’s best friend. It was never meant to happen, ever.

Sunghoon walks over to your table and bends a little as he fixes his hair a few more times in front of your vanity mirror, glancing at the reflection of you sitting on the bed watching as he does so. You had the covers wrapped around yourself now, holding it tightly together as the cold of the air finally catches up with you. The boy clears his throat and stands straight again, turning around to face you with his hands resting in the pockets of his jacket, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. “I’ll text you.”

You look up to him with a similar sentiment you fake with a smile, nodding slightly at his words. “Be careful, it’s raining.” And with that, he makes his way out of your room in stealth and much experience with this already, not without first planting a swift peck on your cheek and escaping out of your house successfully into the wet steps outside. To his car parked a few jogs away from your house behind the yellowing trees where Jungwon would not notice. Just like every other time for the past two months.

Two months of sneaking around in sealed secrecy, spending most of your time together intertwined in each other’s beds. You don’t remember how exactly it all started, damn sure alcohol was the cause of it though. How drunk you both must’ve been that fateful night at whoever’s turn it was to host the house party of the week. But you do remember the first touch of how his big hands cupped your face. The first mesh of your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Thus, spiralling down the road of not being able to keep your hands off each other no matter how hard you both tried to (not hard enough). He was intoxicating you with the taste of his lips, his cock, and offering you the pleasures of vulnerability like you never had before. In simple terms, he was the best fuck you ever had and kept having. See how you’re stuck in a predicament?

You do wonder if there was ever more he felt with you, even for just a second but you never dared venture into those territories of asking questions. This whole thing was a problem in itself and maybe you just didn’t want to face the reality by talking about it more. Sunghoon and you had your share of moments, exchanging stories, getting to know each other bit by bit and sharing intimate touches that never carried any sexual nature. But at the end of the day, you know he only sees this as a hook-up, an agreement you’ve found yourselves in to give and take from one another. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with though, having to suppress how fond you’ve grown of him and ignoring the growing sentiment but you let the guilt gnaw you freely, losing the light sparkling in you in his company only to be reignited on the next meeting.

It was a miracle Jungwon never realised, not having even the slightest clue about what was going on inside his own house with the two people he was the closest to. There were times you’d both almost slip up, Sunghoon having come out of your room a mere second too early or too late before your brother disappears; or when he’d eye fuck you in front of a group of people be it at a party or even under your own roof with Jungwon standing right next to him. If he did notice, he never brings it up and sometimes that gets your hopes up of maybe, just maybe he doesn’t care. But seeing from time to time how he’d bring up girls’ names to Sunghoon and talk freely as boys do when you’re around, you prefer to assume he was absolutely clueless.

You lie back down on your bed, exhaling a sigh when your head hits the softness of your pillow. You fish your phone out from under it and squint at just how bright the screen is, finding your brother’s contact to call him. “Are you home?” you ask feigning a sleepy voice when he picks up, glancing out the window as you wonder if Sunghoon had reached home safely in the heavy-paced rain. “Yeah, like for a while now. Practice ran short cause of the rain and Sunghoon never showed up, again. Did you just wake up?” you could hear the tinge of annoyance in your brother’s voice as he mentioned his best friend’s name on the phone.

Your brother and Sunghoon were in the college football team, having their semis of the season coming up soon; and with how serious the team was set on victory, they would have practice even on Sunday mornings sometimes. Sunghoon was one of their best players and with how much he has been missing weekend practice lately for ‘family emergencies’, it is validated that your brother who happens to be the captain of said team put his annoyance on said boy.

“Y/n?” the knock on your door and Jungwon’s voice calling you out from behind it startles you, not realizing he ended the call when you failed to respond to him. You put your phone away and get up from your bed, putting on a hoodie over the thin fabric of your shirt before opening the door to your brother, who had one ear pressed against your wooden door almost falling head-first into your room.

“What are you doing?” You watch him stumble on his feet as he tries to stand back up straight, arms crossed resting against your chest. “I thought you died.” The younger just shrugs as if that was a reasonable enough answer, walking away from you and down the steps of the stairs. “Come down, I’m gonna heat the pizza.” Rolling your eyes, you chuckle a little to yourself at his antics, closing the door of your room before hurrying down the stairs.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Again?” You sigh to yourself at the sight in front of you at the doorstep. Another Friday night, another drunk Jungwon was to be let in and carried to bed. Lucky for you, his best friend was the one who brought him home, supporting one side of Jungwon’s weight on his shoulder. “Yeap, I tried to stop him but you know how stubborn he gets.” Sunghoon offers an apologetic smile as he practically drags the boy by his shoulder into the warmth of your house.

“Just leave him on the couch.” Plopping him down onto the couch of the living room, you drape the throw blanket over him, watching as he slept through with a snore. You watch him for a bit more, bending down to brush a little of his bangs away from his face before making your way back to where the kitchen was, opening the fridge in search of some cold bottled water. You hear the footsteps following you and finally stopping right behind you, you can feel his breath prickling the skin of your neck. Clearing your throat, you try your hardest to ignore the reddening of your cheeks. You had to keep your cool.

“May I help you?” you don’t bother turning around, pretending to look for more things in the fridge as you keep your focus on it longer before picking up two bottles from the side. “Yeah, you could. I deserve a thank you, don’t you think?” pushing the fridge close, Sunghoon encases both of his arms around your waist and pulls your back to land on his chest, chin resting on top of your head so easily. Damn him for being so tall. Letting out a deep exhale, you dismiss his hold off you easily before turning on your heels to face him this time, having to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Thank you.” You say with a short smile enough to come off genuine on your lips, pushing one bottle of the water in your hand to his chest, forming some distance between the two of you. It’s bad enough he had your shorts riding up a little from his back hug before, it was getting tougher by the day to act nonchalant as if he doesn’t make your heartstrings tug at the sight of his teeth showing when he smiles ever so innocently to you.

Knowing you'd go around in circles trying to put a stop to your 'relationship' only to go back to him again, you had to control yourself. Glancing to the couch in the living room where your brother sleeps, you remind yourself why it is important you do this. Sliding away from the compromising position Sunghoon has put you in, he watches with confusion forming on his face at how you walk off to lean on the kitchen counter facing him but avoiding his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks, brows furrowed deep you'd think they were connected by now. His asking that question makes you scoff in disbelief at how oblivious he was trying to play as if everything was just alright. "What's wrong? This. This is wrong. We can’t keep doing this, Sunghoon.” you softly answer, not wanting even the walls of your kitchen to hear what you'd have to open up about tonight, let alone Jungwon in the next room. The boy rolls his eyes at your words, having expected to hear of the same thing you've been repeating for the past two months of your 'relationship'. He knows why you feel the way you do and he knows why you think what you have to do is right but he decides to stick in denial of the fact that everything in front of him could crumble in an instant.

Sunghoon walks over to you and holds you firm by the waist this time, slotting one knee in between your thighs as he leans himself closer to your body. You gasp at the sudden movement, not being able to move out in time before he takes one grip off your waist and pinches your chin with his thumb and index finger to face up at him. "Are you sure?" he whispers under his hot breath trickling your lips, your eyes engrossed in his like chains pulling you in. Causing you to abide, yet again.

One heartbeat ticks before Sunghoon leans in and crashes his lips onto yours which you immediately return with haste. One minute it was slow, the next messy with your hands roaming around each other and tongues slipping past lips to connect with saliva dripping down your chins. His knee under your covered core settles in quickly and so do you sitting on it, grinding your way through the heat engulfing you whole with lids barely open but you do not close them completely, reality setting in like a switch in your brain. Your fingers gripping his hair to pull him closer before are now pulling it away in one swift motion, lips left bare and connected only by the air you struggle to catch.

"No, we can't. I'm serious.” Your change in demeanour to his usual flirtatious ways confused him. It wasn’t shocking, not the first time this ‘routine’ of yours came before giving in to him anyway but this time, it felt different. Like you’ve made your mind up and are choosing to take a stand on the choice he so much despises to believe. Sunghoon furrows his brows deeper now lines were forming on his forehead, hand reaching out to hold yours that seemed much farther than it used to be as you push him off of you.

“Please, I’ve told you again and again that everything is going to be fine, Y/n and-“

“What if it’s not going to be fine, huh? What if everything goes to shit and Jungwon, you, me- everything just falls apart? I-I don’t want anything to change.” You whisper-shout and pull your hand away from his grip once again, folding your arms and tucking your fingers away out of his reach if he ever tries to hold you again. It would make everything much, much harder to handle. Turning away from him, you sigh to yourself and walk towards the couch trying to clear your head of all the jumbled thoughts making you not see straight.

It was the right thing to do and you assured yourself a million times in your heart, knowing you weren’t one to take risks of even the smallest things that could change the trajectory of your family relations. Or get caught up in the downfall of their friendship? Hard pass. Yes, you knew it was wrong from the moment your eyes laid on Sunghoon that night and for two months consecutive; the notion to put a stop to it only came now. Who could blame you, really?

Sunghoon follows behind you and stops a few steps away, one hand ruffling his hair messily in frustration. If only he had the right words to say to convince that persistent head of yours to stay. “I get it, I do. Listen to me, I-“

“I think you should leave. It’s late, thanks for bringing Jungwon home.” You cut him off immediately before he could continue whatever he’s come up with to sway your decision, deciding to look up and face him dead in the eye. His arms fall limp to the side with eyes staring right back at you, pupils moving around endlessly trying to find just anything, any reasoning he could use in your eyes; yet all he witnessed were the trembling of your lips. With a heavy sigh, he says what he always does before leaving. “I’ll text you.”

Sunghoon picks his feet up and starts walking towards the front door and opens it, walking out with one last look at your face though you’re not focused on him anymore. He gazes at you crouched down beside your brother one last time before shutting the door taking all of himself that he gave to you with him. Hearing the soft thud of the lock was when the tears you’ve bit your tongue holding it in started falling down your cheeks.

And he does text you that night and all the nights following, but you always leave them unopened.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The gust of wind blows in signal of fall passing through, messing up the bangs on the side of your face to much dismay. It was reaching 4 pm now as you sat on one of the picnic benches outside the library alone, hoping to catch up with some of your notes from class while waiting for Jungwon to finish up with football practice. Not for another hour though.

So you sit there, studying; well trying to at least, constantly being distracted with thoughts floating around in your mind. Some were about school, some were about trivial matters you won’t even remember by the end of the night. And some were about Park Sunghoon, the boy you swore to yourself not to contact anymore. It was impossible though, unlocking your phone now to read another one of his text messages in your notification bar from last night that you left unopened for reasons you deemed would help in your ‘journey’. Wasn’t this what no contact was all about?

“Can we talk, please?”

You sigh at the words slowly ingraining in your brain the longer you stare at it, not realizing the figure planting himself to the seat opposite you. “Whatcha doing?” you blink in surprise at the sudden intrusion, eyes wide slightly as you look up from your phone to Jake’s face smiling at you with his hands clasped together resting on the table separating you. He wasn’t a stranger but you didn’t know him well enough to say he was a close friend; more of an acquaintance? Classmate. Sure. Jake Sim was in your sociology class, always kept himself engaged in lectures and was pretty well known around your major mates. You’ve been in group projects with him several times but the exchange between you two never exceeded the academic level of interest before.

“Waiting for my brother.” You say with a smile, locking and tucking your phone back into the pocket of your jacket. “Jungwon, right?” Jake tilts his head to the side when he questions, the smile never leaving his lips but he looks so innocent it almost made you want to pinch his cheeks. “You know my brother?” “Everyone knows your brother, Y/n.” a small chuckle leaves his lips now, and you can’t help but do the same. He was right. Everyone did know your brother, the captain of the football team. How could you forget for the slightest how popular your brother actually is? How popular him and his friends were?

It grows quiet for a few seconds, not sure if you were meant to wait for Jake or you to say something else or anything at all to continue the conversation, which didn’t seem like one that bore any importance as of now. Jake still had his hands held together on the table, smile evidently growing wider as he kept his eyes on you like he was studying you. Your eyes carelessly did the same; seeing him up close under the warm sunrays shining through the cracks of leaves that tower over you both. Undeniably he was good-looking looking with a tinge of innocence playing in his expression. He seemed benign, genuinely pleasant and confident that you don’t care to wonder why he was well-liked among your peers.

You open your mouth slightly but before any words built up in your mind could come out, Jake softly taps the table and stands. “Well, I’d like to keep you company longer but I need to get home now.” It wasn’t expected of him to stay with you after that little exchange anyway but somehow a speck of disappointment fills you.

“Would you like to get coffee sometime?” Jake rubs the back of his nape sheepishly with a wide grin, not able to keep his eyes on you so confidently this time around. And to think he was incapable of being shy around you. “Y-yeah, sure. Okay.” You weren’t any better than him though, the tip of your ears heating up at the sudden invitation. “Great. I’ll text you!” with that he walks away, turning around after a few steps to wave you goodbye accompanied by a smile. For some reason, your ears grow hotter as you wave back at him, not entirely opposed to this newfound excitement starting to bubble in the pits of your stomach. You watch him a little longer as his silhouette grows small and disappears into the distance, smiling to nobody but yourself now.

You glance off towards the other side where you can hear the football players yelling in the distance from the field, holding your breath momentarily when you meet Sunghoon’s eyes. Standing at the side of the field, staring at you as he wipes off the sweat dripping down the tips of his hair. Being quite far away, you couldn’t make out clearly the way his face expressed dissatisfaction but with those thick brows of his, anyone could see the way they quirked up from a mile away. He’s been trying to contact you for the last week and this was what he had to see after you not responding last night? Who was that guy anyway? Sunghoon tongues the inside of his cheek in annoyance, scoffing when he catches you looking away and pretending like he didn’t exist.

No matter how much he tried to text, call, or anything- he kept himself behaved and respectful every time he was in near proximity of you much thanks to Jungwon. The boy was desperate but he wasn’t about to let another drama unfold in the midst of him trying to get a grip of present matters. He doesn’t know how long more he could stand watching you from afar, not being able to hold you close like before- he didn’t know how to handle being rejected. It was close to torture-no, it was absolute torture having to watch you greet him when he came over to hang out with Jungwon, only to scurry off in your little shorts back to your room and lock yourself in there till he was out of sight.

It was a mental battle for him, knowing at some point you were right about not wanting to hurt Jungwon in the long run of continuing whatever you had between the two of you. He knew that, he understood that. But what about him? What about the true feelings that he realized was a little too late to admit he had for you all this time of just ‘messing around’? He sighs to himself and tries to brush off his thoughts, tossing the towel to the ground before running back to his teammates huddled up in a circle. Letting go of you just seemed impossible in his books.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The next day, you were surprised to find Jake standing out the hallway of your lecture hall with a cup of coffee in each hand. His eyes travelled around the sea of students exiting the hall after your morning class, grinning ear to ear when he spotted you walking over. “Good morning, this is for you but it’s hot, so be careful.” You stop to stand right in front of him, biting down your lips to stop from smiling too widely in hopes he doesn’t get how embarrassingly happy you were of this surprise. How does he know you even had class this morning right here? Maybe because he had classes next door, idiot. How does he know what coffee you’d even like? Why was he being so friendly with you? You take the cup from his hand and notice the way his cheeks turn a little hue of pink when your finger brushes against his. “Thank you, Jake. That’s so sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome, and before you think I’m a creep for knowing your schedule- I just happen to have classes next door at the same time as you do here every week. So I’ve seen you walk by a few times.” What, he's a mind reader now? Taking a small sip of the drink, you hum in approval as the taste of hot coffee washes over you and smile up at Jake’s intrigued face. “This is really yummy! Thanks again, Jake.” “I’m glad you like it.” He nods with satisfaction painted over his face, glancing around the hallway momentarily to concede the decreasing amount of students present now.

“So, are you free right now? Want to go to the library and study?” Jake asks with a tilted head, taking a longer sip of his coffee as if trying to hide half of his face. You take a look at the watch on your wrist and damn, you were hoping to fill your empty stomach up before your next class. “Um, actually- could we get something to eat? I haven’t had breakfast so..” trailing off your words, you glance down to your feet before meeting his eyes apologetically. Maybe he really wanted to study and here you were, asking to go eat instead. What if he really just wanted a study buddy for the semester and he thought you were trying to hang out with him? It is almost noon so that’s perfect for lunch so why would he even ask to study right now but what if- damn you and your overthinking.

Instead, Jake looks at you with slightly widened eyes and you were hoping that didn’t mean anything bad. “Yes, of course! I’m sorry, I should’ve asked to go to lunch instead. We can go to the library after if you’re still up for it.” Not sure why you found his reaction endearing, you lightly chuckle and nod along to his words as he leads the both of you out of the building and to the cafeteria of the campus. It wasn’t a long walk from where you were so not much awkwardness was present in your conversation, but that was thanks to how easygoing Jake was as a person.

He’d ask every little thing in that head of his about you and he never seemed to run out of questions or hold back from them, despite evidently feeling shy prior. You notice the way he had this captivated look on his face whenever you answered and sometimes they were pretty long answers but he didn’t seem to mind one bit that you were spouting all sorts of trivial matters at this point. You liked that about him and don’t question anymore his intentions of getting all friendly with you, easing up to him quicker than you’d expect. From then on, you’ve shared most of your meals on campus together, studying together when you could find the time and there were times he’d just ask you to hang out with him, doing nothing but talk. It felt refreshing, a (not so) new face taking your time up you almost, almost (not at all) forget the face that hangs around in the background of your life.

Sunghoon was definitely aware of your newfound friend; watching, glaring, judging every little interaction you had with Jake every time he’d see you. Always, always with Jake. Smiling, talking, laughing. Was he that funny that had you giggling your way all through lunch? Anyone with eyes could see that Jake was being flirtatious with you, or maybe that’s just what the younger boy wanted to believe to justify his feelings of envy. Have you forgotten about him and all those moments you’d laugh at his jokes? Sunghoon catches himself smiling whenever he remembers them and sighs in defeat when he realizes it would never be a sight he’d see again.

Unless he decides to finally take matters into his own hands. He was not going to let you go just like that, despite your bullshit reasoning about caring for Jungwon’s feelings or whatever you’ve been saying. It just felt unfair knowing how you really felt about the ‘relationship’ but choosing to end it anyway. It felt selfish and Sunghoon wanted to at least, make you listen and be selfish of his feelings for once- pushing back the regret slowly creeping in before it’s too late to have done something.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Two weeks pass by and spending time with Jake has added productivity into your routine; being that it used to be only studying and occasional social life activities with your friends; and hooking up with your brother’s best friend. It was good to distract yourself with Jake, though you hated how you thought of him that way. It wasn’t your fault Sunghoon was still intruding on your life when he saw an opportunity, making it impossible for you to dismiss him or even get over him completely these past weeks.

He was with Jungwon more often than not these days, always coming over to your house for hours on end it felt intentional to mess with you at this point. He wasn’t even keeping to himself like he used to around you in public, making small talk last longer and teasing you as if you’re the one he’s best friends with and there was no reason you could justify giving him the cold shoulder in front of your brother. Jungwon never found it odd or out of character though, deeming it as if your relationship had always been this way.

You hate the way he still looks at you the same way he used to; with so much fondness and attachment no matter how menacing his words try to sound when he satirises you. You hate the way his scent fills up the air around your house now, taking you back to all those times he spent being so close to you. You certainly hate the way he lingers his touches on your skin, letting his hand brush softly on yours when he passes you things or placing his hand on the arch of your back when he wants to walk by you. It seems like anything you tried to do to put it all in the past crumbles down and pulls you back in like everything was still in the present.

Mostly you hated yourself, for letting your thoughts wander on and on about him on sleepless nights, for even letting him still make your heart skip a beat with that smile of his. It seemingly gets more difficult when you can hear his voice in Jungwon’s room, both of them yelling or arguing about whatever game they were playing that Friday evening before heading out to some party happening the same night.

Jake was coming over to work on a paired project you had for Sociology and it being the first time stepping foot into the home you share with Jungwon, you hoped it’d be some sort of an ideal comfortable place to get school work done. Definitely underestimated your brother’s loud voice and your household. You make your way to his door and rap a couple of hard knocks on it to send a hint that maybe, you weren’t in the greatest of moods right now. Jungwon opens the door with a quirked-up brow and you try your best to not glance away from his face to the one behind him. “What? I’m busy.”

“Jake is coming over to study so keep it down a little okay? I really-“

“Jake? Jake Sim?” Sunghoon chimes in and cuts your words off, standing up from Jungwon’s bed and walking over to stand next to him with arms crossed over his chest. This time, you had no choice but to look at him and you pray to God he doesn’t see the way your feet fidget.

“Yeah, they’re like going out now or something,” Jungwon responds instead of you, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world as he walks off to pick his phone up from the bedside table. Sunghoon stays put though, arms still crossed and now leaning his side against the door frame as he intensifies his look on you. It felt like you were being interrogated for a crime you had yet to commit with the way he was looking. “We’re not! Just-just keep it down okay?” you raise your voice a little higher to talk over Sunghoon’s towering figure, only earning an agreeing whine from your brother.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, taking a step back from the door to turn and walk off before Sunghoon grips your wrist momentarily and pulls you back to face him. “Are you coming to the party later?” The boy questions and this time Jungwon looks up from whatever got his attention on that phone of his awaiting your answer. “No, I’m not.”

“Well, you should. Invite Jake, though I’m sure he’s already going so he’ll probably ask you.” Sunghoon says in such a nonchalant manner, giving you a smile that seems so fake like he meant to let you know it was. Alarm bells ring in your little head every time he mentions Jake’s name but you try to ignore them, not wanting to delve deeper into why it bothers you. To stop overthinking was to stop thinking in the first place.

“Whatever. Maybe.” You decide to brush it off and walk away as quickly as possible back to your room, holding yourself from sparing a glance back at his watchful eyes as you close your door shut. “Have fun!” Spending another second a breath away from each other would shatter the wall you’ve built up completely.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Okay, let’s take a 5-minute break and we can wrap this up for tonight,” Jake says as he leans to rest his back on your bedside, both of you sitting cross-legged on the floor of your room with laptops and research papers cluttered around. The clock reads 10 pm now, not having realised time flew by so quickly and you felt it though that’s unusual given doing school work was boring and draggy. Guess having Jake around your company made time work differently. You smile and nod in agreement at his suggestion of taking a well-deserved break. It was taxing trying to read the words written in those papers with him being in your room; well at least for the first 20 minutes until the only thing that could annoy you more than feeling anxious was the boisterous peals of laughter echoing next door.

“Sorry about my brother and his friend.” you huff out having to apologise on behalf of such things you couldn’t control but to your surprise, Jake didn’t seem to mind it at all. “Nah, it’s all good.” He shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle under his breath which somehow increases assurance that you had nothing to worry about. “Anyways uh- there’s a party at my friend Jay’s later. You should come with me.” There it was, the invitation you previously had rejected in your head but now- with the way his puppy-eyed smile slowly convinced you? It’d be cruel to say no. “Sure, but I need a little time to change.”

The physical space between the two of you seemingly grew closer without you noticing, only the bumping of his knees into yours takes you to recognise this. The shade of his eyes differs from a few seconds ago with the light on your ceiling reflecting on them it settled like tiny little stars. They gaze at your dark brown ones longingly and you don’t know why your hands are getting clammy.

“No matter what you wear, you’d still be the prettiest girl there.” Before you could respond with words instead of just widened eyes and tinted cheeks, Jake gradually leaned in closer to you with a hand reaching out to cup your cheeks. The moment felt still, the air held back down your throat from exhaling and all the thoughts in your head paused. You glance down at his lips and every single second your heartbeat increases he is getting closer and closer to touching yours. Sure, you were aware of the growing uncertainty between the two of you after hanging out endlessly but you never did decide on what to call it. Friendly banter? Flirting for the sake of humour? Jake seemed to have his mind made up with this forward move and all you could think about at that very last second was how Sunghoon used to call you pretty.

“My pretty girl.”

And then a loud laugh echoing through the house kills the moment. Speak of the devil. It was like he knew what was happening behind these walls that separated the two rooms and he had to remind you that he was still living in the back of your mind. Jake immediately pulls his hand away from your face and clears his throat, the switch from confident to fluster taking over him. The moment fleets away and snaps like a flash, the trance-filled air evaporates from your systems which quickly takes you back to reality.

“Sorry.“ Jake ruffles his hair in an attempt to hide his eyes but you notice the smile he bites back from showing. You do the same in averting your gaze with how hot your face was getting, shaking your head in dismissal at his apology. “It’s okay.”

“I think we can continue the project on Monday. I’ll wait for you downstairs and we can go?” The flustered boy says while packing his things and stands up after, expression clean like nothing ever happened. “O-okay. I won’t take long.” You get up on your feet and nod, watching him close your door as he leaves and now all alone you stand there, gathering everything in your head to figure out what just happened. And- why was your blood feeling warm again like relief had washed over you? Whatever. You shake those thoughts away and stumble to your wardrobe, picking out the first top and short skirt in sight and changing quickly while adding a few touch-ups to prim your appearance.

Walking down the stairs slowly you hear chatter in the living room and when you do land on the final step, the sight of Jake casually conversing with Sunghoon and your brother on the couch welcomes you. They didn’t seem aware of your presence at first, engrossed in their little discussion and you slowly make your way to them.

“Well, don’t you look pretty?” Sunghoon was the first to blurt that out when you came into view, earning questioning (a little weirded out and a “dude!” mostly from Jungwon’s) glances from the other two. He’s never openly complimented you, especially in front of your brother and what in the world does he think he’s doing that now? You blink in astonishment at the sudden forwardness he was showcasing, even more surprised the younger did not seem to think it was a misstep on his part at all. Jake decides to let it slide and smiles at you as he stands up. “You do look pretty.”

He might not have heard it but the scoff Sunghoon lets out under his breath rings right through your ears. “Are we done? Can we go now?” Jungwon stands up as well now, groaning along his steps towards the front door with Sunghoon following suit from behind. “Yeap, see you guys there.” He says without even a glance back, implying they are heading out in Sunghoon’s car and you were left to go in Jake’s. It had you hesitant to be alone with him once again, unsure whether the conversation would pick up where it got interrupted.

Much to ease your worries though, Jake appears to have moved past the recent events, effortlessly slipping back into his usual self as he drives you to Jay's place. Talking and laughing with you like he always would, devoid of any awkwardness you mentally prepared to face.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Arriving at the party, you were welcomed by a music-blasted house full of drunken students, the smell of booze thinning through the air and a ton of new faces you had to meet. Jake introduces you to his friends the moment they spot him arriving, learning that despite being third years just like you- they were all good friends with Jungwon and Sunghoon who were in their second and always attended Jay’s parties. It’s no surprise Jungwon never mentioned to them he had an older sister all this while and that it was you, given how dumbfounded their faces expressed when you were introduced.

“C’mon, let me get you a drink.” Jake holds his hand out to take yours, leading the both of you through the swarm of bodies to the kitchen counter where a variety of bottled alcohol were lined up for your choosing. He releases your hand to grab one, pouring its contents into a red cup mixed with what he explained was apple juice before passing it for you to try with anticipation in his eyes. “Good?” “Great.” You nod and smile in approval as the taste of liquor mixes in your throat but it doesn’t burn like it should thanks to the added condiment. Jake laughs softly in relief and makes one for himself, bumping his cup with yours for a little ‘cheers!’ before taking a sip and exhaling in delight at the taste.

You were not one in favour of much drinking even when you do attend parties with your friends but to relax with Sunghoon still roaming around nearby and at any given moment could catch you off guard, you decided why the heck not.

After a few more leisurely sips, Jake gently gestures with his chin towards a cosy, unoccupied couch nestled in a quieter corner of the living room. With a warm smile, he reaches for your hand once more, guiding you towards this inviting spot where you both settle in next to each other, finding comfort in the serene ambience of the less crowded area. “I’m really glad you decided to come with, you know,” he states when he catches you turning to smile at him, confidence from the early spur of the moment in your room seeming to have returned. “Oh, and why is that?”

“Cause I like hanging out with you. Plus, you tell the funniest jokes known to mankind.” You roll your eyes playfully at his bantering remark, nudging his side softly. “Not as funny as the ones you tell, Mr Sim.” Jake’s laughter infects you, drawing you into a lively exchange where conversation flows like it usually does with him.

You seemed to be really enjoying yourself and when Sunghoon sees you from across the room where he’s leaned up against the wall with his own condiment in hand; getting up to presumably head to the bathroom, he wipes the frown he wore while observing your interaction with Jake and quietly follows you.

Admittedly, he was very jealous of Jake. Of anyone and everyone who got to receive your warm reactions he used to be the reason of. With other eyes around the room glancing and looking at you in ways only he allowed himself to do so felt like fire charring through his skin and veins. The alcohol he kept chugging every time your voice grew clear to his ears that he could make out the words in detail, was certainly not helping his mind be kept sane at this point.

Turning the tap off and giving yourself a once over in the mirror of the bathroom you found empty in the back, a sigh falls from your lips. Looking straight into your reflection you no longer see yourself with expressions earlier directed to Jake. No, not when you were alone once again under the coarse fluorescent lighting with a swarm of thoughts coming back to haunt your mind. You don’t know why the fact Sunghoon was here at the same party as Jake bothered you so much, after the whole compliment he decided to throw out in the open you felt defeated.

For one, Jake was a decent guy and you weren’t so naive to throw out the option of venturing into your relationship with him more than just friends. Plus, he wasn’t your brother’s best friend- Jungwon already thinks you’ve got more going on. All positives, no cons to be detected. But one, he was not Sunghoon. You groan in frustration and curse yourself, why the fuck does this guy have such a hold on you that you couldn’t even do this one thing right? It’s over and done with, you’ve got to stick with your decision no matter how long it takes for you to convince yourself that.

A loud knock from the door startles you from overthinking (your personality at this point) and you roll your eyes in annoyance. Drunk people and their impatience with bathrooms, especially when occupied never cease to tick you off. “Yes, yes I’m done,” you grumble while straightening your skirt, stepping towards the door to unlock it and before you can even open it fully; Sunghoon forces himself in and bumps you to stumble backwards as he shuts the door and locks it.

The hair on your skin stands and shock waves wash over you, not fully comprehending what exactly is going on. He takes notice of your bewildered expression and smirks, back leaning against the door with eyes gazing at you with nothing but grey in them. It’s quiet for a few beats, save the faded-out music playing in the background from the party happening outside this small room you were seemingly trapped in.

“What are you doing?”

"What are you doing?" he questions back, a hint of attitude present in the tone. Bafflement spreads across your face, and he pushes himself off the door, walking forward slowly and stopping just right in front of you. Sunghoon had both hands tucked in the pocket of his jeans as he towered over you, prompting you to tilt your head up to meet his eye. With a gentle motion, he removes one hand from his pocket, brushing aside the bangs that have fallen on the side of your face. His finger then traces a slow, deliberate path up and down your arm, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Threw me away for that guy, huh?” a playful pout formed on his lips now, moving down his hand from your arm to wrap around your waist with a tight grasp pulling you to bump his chest. Red colours your features from the contact and there was no way to hide it at this point, being so dangerously close to him everything in you weakened by the minute. For a flicker, you don’t even recall Jake, or his name or him being the context of the conversation. Your mind grows more cluttered it is like everything was upside down, with Sunghoon’s mere touch of skin sending your brain into a wired mess.

“Thro- I didn’t throw you away, Sunghoon. I told you why-“

“You probably have no idea, but I’m quite a jealous man.”

Before you can respond, Sunghoon leans in, capturing your lips with a fervent kiss. You taste the yearning in his kiss and, almost instinctively, you return it with equal intensity. Any remnants of your defences crumble, and you know there's no point in trying to rebuild them, especially now as you fully succumb to him. Moments like this remind you why you typically don’t drink alcohol. Though there wouldn’t really be a different outcome even if you were fully sober; knowing and finally admitting to yourself that you do want this. You want all of him.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate as he pushes you up against the edge of the sink. One of his hands remains tightly gripped around your waist, anchoring you to him, while the other slowly travels down to the hem of your skirt. With a deliberate motion, he lifts it slightly, allowing his hand to slip underneath, where he firmly grasps your thigh, pulling you even closer to him. A moan escapes through your connected lips as you feel his hand firmly gripping every inch of your thigh and tracing along the curve of your ass, his touch sending electric sensations through your body.

Your hands roam eagerly over his broad chest, fingers threading through his locks and pulling him closer like your life depended on him. Sunghoon seizes the momentary parting of your lips, his tongue sweeping in to explore the wet warmth of your mouth. He skillfully intertwines his tongue with yours, drawing you deeper into the kiss, his movements becoming more eager and vigorous.

Breaking the kiss briefly, a thin strand of saliva glistens between your lips, hinting at the raw desire that lingers. "You think I don't see the way he looks at you?" he whispers huskily, his eyes now a darker shade. "Flirting with you, touching you—God, it's so fucking annoying.” Your mind too clouded to respond, you tug on his shirt, urging him back into the kiss, but he hesitates, teasingly resisting your pull. The fingers resting on your dampened cloth underneath start to circulate and that just sends you into a drive of lusting need for him, now.

"And you choose to wear this skimpy ass skirt around him—around me, all wet like this,” Sunghoon murmurs, frustration evident in his voice. "I swear, you'll be the death of me." With a sigh, he reconnects your lips with his, each moment growing hotter than the last. You moan in between kisses, your own hands now gripping onto his shirt to tug and pull him even closer, bodies pressing against each other. With that eagerness coming from you, Sunghoon holds your underwear to the side with his thumb, pushing two fingers into your folds without breaking the kiss. Your gasp disappears into his mouth as the intrusion takes you off guard.

“F-fuck.” Unable to hold it in, you let out a moan and pulled away from his lips with your eyes closed shut surrendering to the pleasure overtaking your senses. He doesn’t stop kissing you though, moving down to the side of your neck and you tilt your head giving him an easier excess in smothering your bare skin with kisses and marks you really hoped would be easy to cover up tomorrow.

“You’re mine. My pretty girl.” the way he exhales those words tickles your skin and makes the hair on your body stand up as if electrified, the fingers pumping in and out of you intruding harder than before. Your senses grow hazier by the second and a sting shoots through your veins at the feel of Sunghoon’s teeth sinking on your flesh and he sucks on it, lips not leaving your neck only to grow rougher when you give his locks a harsh pull.

“M-mhm.” you bite your lips hard from stuttering out any coherent words, gasping for a little bit of air to come soothe your quickened heart when Sunghoon pulls himself away from you. He grips both sides of your panties from underneath your skirt and pulls them down as he gets on his knees directly in front of you.

The rush of cold air breezes through and tickles your exposed core making you squeeze your thighs together which earns a playful smirk from the younger's lips. He then leans his face close and has his hands gripped onto your thighs for support before he dives under your skirt to give your wetness a clean lick. The warm feel of his wet tongue on your folds jolts you in a gasped surprise, making you pull onto his hair harder as you wobbly stood against the sink praying your knees didn’t decide to give up so easily. He didn't seem to mind the aggressiveness, more so enjoying it now as he gets on the same level with the flick of his tongue and saliva all combed up around your core.

“M-mhm, right there.” you bunch your skirt up now to get a good view of him under you like this, his eyelids closed as he hungrily swirls his tongue around and inside you with quenched thirst trying to taste every inch of your dripping wetness. It’s a sight you wish you could take a picture of and stare at forever.

Sunghoon opens his lids a little to gaze up at your face, both hands on your thighs now going up to grip the cheeks of your ass harshly as he accelerated his pace. Guiding you to ride his face with his hands, your vision starts to blur at the heightening sensation brewing in your stomach with every jab of his tongue. The sloshing sound of wet licking and the groans vibrating through your folds with such a face clamped up between your legs, you were reaching to release quicker than intended; wanting to devour the moment of pleasure a little bit longer but it wasn’t really a choice you could’ve made.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah- I’m cumming-” the words grow a pitch higher with your moans as you grip onto his hair fully, coming undone right into his mouth for his senses to devour all of you, and he doesn’t stop licking even when your insides were throbbing. After a few breaths, Sunghoon licks your bare flesh clean and finally pulls away from your core, standing back up to his feet to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. He doesn’t leave out the swift swiping of his tongue on your lips for you to have a taste of yourself.

“Tastes so fucking good, my pretty girl.” The room felt like it was spinning, nothing was making any sense but it felt too good to be probing for any. Getting a morsel of what you’ve been missing for the last month has made you long for more- an addiction that fed you a little too well.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Sunghoon says in the silent seconds of the moment and grabs to hold the sides of your waist again. He then turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, pushing himself up on you until your skirt rides up even more to feel the hardened bulge in his pants making you grip onto the sink tightly to balance yourself. The look on both of your faces stares back at you from the reflection, plumped-up lips and reddened skin paint the view of the state you are in.

What a turn of events- you really had faith in yourself to not end up in this exact situation again and maybe if you just avoided gaping at what was in front of you, you might feel a little better about yourself; not that any ounce of regret would stand in the way of any of this.

The boy snakes up one hand over your shoulder to hold a grip on your jaw, making you look straight into the mirror while using the other to unzip his pants down. He knew what was going on in your head and wanted to make sure you saw this; saw the truth of what you both really feel. “Say it, admit it, whose are you?” he growls and gives your earlobe a little suck until it turned red, pushing you down to bend over the sink with your bare ass fully pressed against him. That makes you lose your balance a little, hands once gripping the sink swiftly falls off to the side and he instead takes hold of your waist again seeing how you struggled to stand in place in such a position. “Y-yours, I’m yours.”

A smirk recreates on his lips while he pulls his boxers off and you see this through the mirror, eyes trying so hard to focus on him but immediately failing when his sprung-out cock presses against you. “M’ gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever forget that.” Sunghoon inclines forward to plant a soft kiss on the back of your head before thrusting himself into your still throbbing wetness with a loud grunt. “Fuuuuck, I missed you.” As he starts to catch his pace, the lump forming on the back of your throat threatens to let the tears in the brim of your eyes fall. You missed him too.

The fill of his length pulls you into overdrive with how much ecstasy is streaming through your veins with each pump he pushes in you. The sound of skin slapping on skin gets faster and louder, only covered by the moans and groans falling out both of your lips. Sunghoon had his eyes closed momentarily as he pulled his head back, swimming in the sensation of your walls clenching on him, enveloping him with such a warm welcome it felt like home.

“A-ah, feel so full.” “Yeah, baby? You like feeling me all in you?” You nod along your moans that you don’t even try holding back anymore, despite being in the bathroom of someone else’s house which, who cares at this point? The people outside were probably all gone in their respective vices and nobody was bothering you, yet. Opening your eyes only to meet Sunghoon’s shaded ones reflected in the mirror, and seeing him fucking you in such a view with his hair all dishevelled and tongue constantly licking his lips; how could you not fall to your knees for this man?

“Fuck, fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m gone baby.” he breathily pants with furrowed brows, hand reaching out to bunch up your hair and giving it a pull to make your back arch while he uses another hand to trail up your chest, groping onto your boobs over your shirt so harshly you were sure his hands were printed on your skin. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“F-feels s-so good, Sunghoon, mhm fuck.” You weren’t sure if saying that made him angry or more turned on but with the way his hand from your chest made it way up to encircle your neck and his pace growing quicker than before you could barely keep your legs upright; you figured it was the latter. “Yeah, baby say my name again. Say my name and I’m gonna cum all in you.”

“Mmnn! I’m a-almost there Sunghoon please-” The tears plunge from your eyes and the saltiness glistens your lips, gulping down the lump in your throat forming when he continuously slams his tip on your walls. “M’ gonna fill you up so good, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming” He says this through his breath barely reaching your ears, too busy indulging in your own pleasure as you ride out your high clenching yourself around his warm spill filling you to the brim.

The vigour of pleasure you felt made you see nothing but white, the air rising so hot and clammy it made you feel like combusting. Sunghoon gives it a few more pumps to make sure his load doesn’t spill out in a mess and groans at the aftermath of it all, leaning forward again to kiss your head before pulling out of you slowly. Your waist throbbed in pain when you do stand up straight again and turned back around to face him, but you seemed still stuck in a daze to focus on that.

The room fills with nothing but the panting of your breaths hoping to slow down your heaving and the burning still buzzing in your brain. Sunghoon pulls his pants up and fixes himself in the mirror with a satisfied smile etched on his face, and you watch him reach out to take some tissue from next to the sink and bend down in front of you yet again. You look down at him with a quirked-up brow and he looks back up to you still wearing the same expression. “C’mon, let me clean you up.” he then proceeds to do so, wiping every inch of your core and thighs clean from any excess that could (hopefully not) spill down later on.

It takes you back to those times he used to take care of you after fucking you until you saw stars; this habit of his making your cheeks burn up like it was the first time. Sunghoon throws the used tissue away and gets up on his feet, eyes no longer grey but complete of longing, gazing into yours once again drawing you in. He leans in closer to brush his nose against yours before planting the softest most loving kiss on your lips and you wish it lasted a lifetime. “I missed you, Sunghoon.” you blurt out first this time after pulling away and it comes to both of your surprise that you didn’t stick to denying and hurting his feelings anymore. What did they say about growth?

“Y/n, I-“ Sunghoon begins with a desperate plea in his tone, hands clasped on yours but was immediately cut off by the knocking of the door from continuing. Ah right, you were still in Jay’s fucking bathroom. Realisation seemed to hit only seconds later, both trying to shush the other from erupting with laughter. “Let’s go outside first.” You say with an assuring hold on his hand, reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. “Sor-“Taking a step out, you gasp at the sight of widened eyes looking straight back at you and Sunghoon, most probably in horror.

“What the fu-“

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen hard hours #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon hard hours #enha smut #enha imagines #enha hard hours

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eskumii · 8 months ago

Note

Can you pls do platonic yandere sanemi x demon child reader (that is also tanjiros and nezukos younger sibling to)

soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!reader hcs [platonic]

TITLE: " TURBULENCE " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers in regards to sanemi's past/relationships!! also ,, ty for being patient annonie, if ur still there :') also i accidentally posted this b4 i finished it, so sorry if anyone saw that...

PAIRING: soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!kamado!reader (platonic)

CHARACTERS: shinazugawa sanemi (21), reader (12), nezuko (14), tanjiro (16)

☆ sanemi hates demons.

☆ that much is clear from the spectacle he made of your older sister, nezuko, at the hashira's headquarters with that horrrible temper of his. needless to say, you don't like him at all and he clearly doesn't like you or your sister, either. it certainly doesn't help that master kagaya seems to have a sour sense of humor as you're now stuck with him as your babysitter.

☆ both tanjiro and nezuko vehemently object to master kagaya's orders. the servants of the residence had to literally rip you from the ironed grips of your older siblings, who were screaming bloody murder as if you'd be separated for the rest of eternity. they were certainly being a tad bit dramatic, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just as upset.

☆ with the deal set in stone, however, sanemi drags you to his home as begrudgingly as humanly possible and condemns you to one of his spare bedrooms. apparently he lived alone (expected tbh) in a traditional style home, complete with the koi ponds and bamboo deer scares. it's nice, you'll give him that, but his nasty attitude doesn't seem to match the beauty of his residence.

☆ although your living conditions are less than ideal, you're old enough to know that staying under someone else's roof is almost never free. you try (keyword: try) to do what you can to help around the house but sanemi is constantly hollering at you to leave him alone or to not mess with his stuff.

☆ he insists you stay in your room and out of his way, but you still tail behind him from afar out of your debilitating boredom. if he notices, he says nothing, and simply ignores you as if you're not even there. at least when you were with tanjiro and nezuko there was always something to do—sanemi is so boring.

☆ sometimes sanemi gets really angry for seemingly no reason and at any given time. he'll storm outside and take it out on the poor practice dummies that litter his backyard, grunting in oblivious rage when he accidentally kicks one of their heads off. you're not sure what it is about you that makes him so angry; you've kind of already ruled it out as his perpetual state of being.

☆ and, well, sanemi doesn't... hate you. you remind him so much of his younger brother, genya, and most of his anger is only borne out of pain. as the eldest of the family he once knew, it's not like the instincts he acquired to take care of his siblings just went away. you simply remind him of who he used to be and the weaknesses that tore his family apart make him inexplicably angry.

☆ considering your resemblance to his late younger siblings (and genya), sanemi does get protective over you in his own ways. sometimes you meddle too close to the windows during the day, so he'll yell at you to move. or sometimes when you're scarfing down the raw meat he gives you, he yells at you to slow down lest you choke.

☆ it may seem like he's not paying attention to you at all, but he's always peeking at you with watchful eyes. he's notices that you like to watch him train but can't be out in the sun, so he hung up a blanket in the branches of a nearby tree without saying a word to you. you smile knowing that you're growing on him.

☆ during the evening, sanemi often catches you out in the garden picking flowers. usually he'd shrug his shoulders and turn his nose up, but he felt compelled to see what you were doing out there all the time. plus, he couldn't have you wandering out beyond the walls.

☆ "what're you doin', kid?" sanemi's booming voice scares you and you drop your basket of colorful flowers on the ground with a squeak. you scramble to gather them again and you're surprised to see a pair of scarred hands helping out, too.

☆ "i'm gonna make flower crowns for when tanjiro and nezuko get back." you answer once all the flowers are back in the basket. sanemi snorts. "flower crowns?"

☆ you nod. "yup! here, i'll show you how to make one." sanemi has zero time to refuse as you grab his hand and pull him down onto the grass with you. you take a length of string that you had stolen from one of his many rooms of junk and began to attach the flowers to it with a clever weaving pattern.

☆ sanemi is fuming in embarrassment as you eagerly teach him how to make a stupid flower crown. this is ridiculous. but why can't he just get up and leave? when you hand him the string of flowers to try it out for himself, your childish giggling is contagious as he fumbles clumsily and accidentally crushes the delicate stem in his callous grip.

☆ in the end, sanemi finds himself enjoying making flower crowns with you, but he threatens you violently with a ruffle of your hair should you tell anyone about it. he would never admit it but as he looks at the crudely made flower crown that you helped him with, he feels a distantly familiar feeling of warmth igniting in his heart again.

☆ the rest of the days you spend with sanemi begin to feel more pleasant than it did initially. sanemi no longer leaves you to your own devices, but instead tries to find things for you to do during the day when you can't go outside. he'll bring you puzzles and teach you how to read with children's folktales written on tarnished scrolls that he said he kept from his old family home.

☆ you're not sure what happened, but sanemi dotes on you now. once you had tripped and split your finger open, and sanemi rushed to your side like it had been your head. it healed within a few seconds, but sanemi still scolded you for walking around unsupervised.

☆ and when you get feverish due to your refusal of eating human flesh, which is often, sanemi tarries by your side day and night in order to make sure you're as comfortable as can be. cold, damp towels on your forehead, fresh raw meat at your bedside, and anything else you want, he gets for you. the worry etched into the lines of his forehead shows how much he cares about you.

☆ by the time tanjiro and nezuko return from their mission to collect you, sanemi doesn't even want to let you go. in fact, you've both grown attached to each other and while you're overjoyed to see your siblings again, sanemi has also become something like an older brother to you. you've grown to love the big residence and his presence.

☆ you're in tears as sanemi pats your head and smiles crookedly at you for what feels like the last time. you beg tanjiro to let you stay longer but he firmly tells you no. sanemi makes tanjiro promise that he'll take you to visit him or else he'll kill him (he's serious).

☆ when you inevitably depart from sanemi (tanjiro has to pry you away from him), he feels about as lonely as the day is long. the residence feels too big without you following behind him like his own shadow, and every time he turns a corner he half-expects to find you doing something to cause trouble.

☆ sanemi takes the flower crown you both made and seals it in a glass jar. he hopes that you'll visit again before it withers, or else he might just go out and find you himself.

#yandere x reader #yandere sanemi x reader #yandere sanemi #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere hashira #platonic yandere

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 2 months ago

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Ẁ̴̧̼̟͕̱̜̞͈̩̱̤̺̖̗̌̌̓͒̓͂̇ͅò̸̟̯͂̍̀̈́̂̚ͅǘ̷̢̧͈̦͙̖̼̟̮̯̝͎̒̈́͜ͅļ̴̮̲͈̤̲̣̊̈́̎̃͆̈͆̔͆̑̇̅̋d̷̢̛͈̲̳͕̮̟͍̬͍̪͖̈̄̓̇n̵̳̫̹̥̼̄̊̽͜'̶̢̛̳̘̗͔̯̖̥̝̙̥̲͍̩̝̍̒̎̃̑̅͊̂͊͝t̷̨̧͉̫̠̻͚̣͉͖͐̊̊̀̈́ ̵̦̬̫͐͐͊͑̆̓͆̏̄͆̇́̚͘͠Y̷̨̢̡̱͚̼͚̰̠̱̤̖͍̑͊̉̽́ͅơ̶̡̦̫̬̪̯͎̹̈̍̊̇͛̅̚̚ü̷̜̞͇̳̯̯̺͎̦̠͈͕͕͎̑͒̍̌̅͛́͌̅̃̽̕͝ ̶̡̝͙̟͖̠̯̹̤͖̣̎̋̄͐̂̚͠L̸̠̞͕̳͖̥̩͙̬̰͈̱̩̳̍i̸̫͙̍́̏̎̓͊̌͑ͅk̶̩̞͈̖͔̓̏͘ẻ̶͈̱͇̪̺̬̑̈̂̑̾̐͐̿̌͜?̷̧̭̖̺̻͖̣̖̺̻͂͝

Original Post Storm

The water was slow to rise.

That didn't mean that it wasn't a threat, but it was a slow one. The rain was much worse. Burning upon contact with skin, the rain poured down on Gotham, and left Damian and Grayson isolated from the rest of the family. Civilians scattered like rats under the burning rain, hiding under awnings that were already starting to dissolve and in buildings if they were lucky.

Grayson had taken the initiative to steal a few umbrellas that they used to jump from roof overhang to overhang, the flimsy fabric barely protecting them in the moments under open sky.

Damian tried both his coms again, then his phone. Only static remained. "There's still no signal. Richard, we need to hurry back to the Manor; if Father is in danger--"

"We wouldn't be able to make it," Grayson said, eyeing the streets. Lazarus water bubbled from the storm drains, flooding the roads. They hurried on. "Our tires would melt before we could get halfway to Bristole. There's a safehouse nearby where we can regroup--"

"Richard!" It was hard to see through the glowing rain, but just beyond the building they were hiding under was- "There's a break in the rain in Robinson Park." While the flood was lapping at the grass, not a speck of water fell over the park.

Richard frowned. "That's suspicious."

Damian and Richard, speckled with burns, made their way through the eerie silence that had settled over Robinson Park. Not a sound could be heard inside the park, like the world had gone silent. No other people had made it here yet, and there were no animals around, Damian noticed with a pang of guilt.

Then... a laugh.

His hands quickly found the knives tucked away on his body. "Who's there!?" Damian demanded despite Richard's protests that it could be a civilian. It laughed again with that same distorted quality that Danyal's voice gained in the Pit. "Show yourself."

"I must say! I didn't think you'd make it this far." Behind them floated... a woman. A girl, younger than Damian, yet she looked just like the monster pretending to be Danyal. She smirked. "You're very stubborn."

"Who are you?" Why does she look like-

"Just a friend!" She quickly reassured. "You could say I'm... invested in the continued survival of Gotham."

"So, you know what's happening?"

"I know what's happening, why it's happening, and what you can do to stop it." She floated onto her back, the picture of faked relaxation. "Though, at the moment, I'm not particularly inclined to spill. Sorry."

Damian's grip tightened on his knives. "If you know how to stop this, then tell us," he demanded, his voice laced with frustration and urgency.

The girl—this eerie mimic of Danyal—rolled her eyes playfully, kicking her feet as she floated in the air. "Impatient, aren't we? But where’s the fun in just handing over all the answers? You’re on the right track, though. Keep going, and maybe you’ll figure it out."

"Enough games!" Richard snapped, stepping forward, his fists clenched. "This city is drowning—people are going to die! If you can help, then help us!"

The girl’s smile didn’t waver, but something in her eyes hardened. "Oh, I am helping. You just don’t realize it yet." She flipped upright, hovering just above the ground now, her gaze locking onto Damian's. "You see, big brother, this isn’t just about you or me. This is about Danyal—he’s lost, confused. And unless you do something, he’ll destroy everything."

Damian stiffened at the word "brother," his mind racing. "You’re lying. Danyal is—"

"More than the Danyal you knew," she finished for him, her voice softening with something like sympathy. "He’s changed. Did your mummy ever tell you that she put him in the Lazarus Pit your grandfather has?" Damian could feel Richard's questioning gaze. "No, she probably didn't. Not after he never resurfaced."

"Then... that's the real Danyal?" Damian asked quietly.

She shrugged. "As real as he can be. But he's not the one you knew. Older. Younger. The Pit did something to him, something that made him… different. More powerful, more dangerous."

Richard exchanged a wary glance with Damian. "If that’s true, then why are you here? What do you want from us?"

The girl chuckled, floating closer. "I’m here to make sure you survive this. After all, if you die too soon, the story ends, and we can’t have that, can we?" She circled around them, her movements languid, almost lazy. "The city will return to normal once Danyal gets what he wants. And what he wants, dear friend, is you." She reached out to poke his nose, but Damian slapped her hand away.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. "Why are you helping us? What do you gain?"

She paused, considering the question, before shrugging lightly. "Let’s just say I have a vested interest in keeping the balance. I’m not your enemy, Damian. I’m just… an observer. A guide, if you will."

The rain continued to pour just beyond the borders of the park, the glowing drops hissing as they hit the ground. Damian could feel the heat from the Lazarus Waters creeping closer, the edge of the park growing dim and distorted.

"You said you know how to stop this," Damian pressed. "What do we need to do?"

The girl smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye. "First, you’ll need to survive. The Lazarus Waters will burn you alive if you don’t take precautions. Deeper in the park, you’ll find Blood Blossoms. They are an extinct plant that has power over the undead... and will prevent the water from hurting you. Eat them—they’ll protect you from the worst of it."

Richard frowned. "Why should we trust you."

She shrugged again. "Trust me, mistrust me. It's up to you. But the longer you stand here arguing, the closer those waters get, and the sooner you’ll be dead." She pointed toward the heart of the park. "The Blood Blossoms grow there. Hurry, before it’s too late."

Damian hesitated; all of his training screamed at him not to trust her. But she was right. They really didn't have a choice. With a curt nod to Richard, they turned and sprinted deeper into the park, the eerie silence swallowing their footsteps.

As they disappeared into the shadows, the girl—Dani—hovered in place, watching them go. Her playful demeanor faded, replaced by something darker, more serious.

"Danny," she whispered to herself, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I hope you know what you're doing, Damian Al Ghul. I hope you know what you need to do to save him."

With a final glance at the retreating figures, she dissolved into the night, her form flickering out of existence as the rain continued to pour down on the drowning city.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #c: danny fenton #c: dick grayson #c: damian wayne #c: dani phantom #danyal al ghul #get in the water au #storm version #danny and damian are twins

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months ago

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Hi!

I saw someone did an Ask about Damien and Danny knowing each other and just keeping in touch just not letting the Batfam know (was it Angel and Demon Brat or something?not sure).

What if we break some hearts,

We have big brother Danny who is dead (the big brother who told him it was okay to call others brother and that blood wasn't everything no matter what grandfather said), Tucker (or Sam or Jazz) just barely escaped Amity's destruction (maybe the GIW went nuclear on the city, maybe a ghost or demon finally got the better of Danny, maybe the portal need to be closed and Danny's life was the price, or maybe the city was already gone and Danny barely got Tucker and Dani out dealers choice) and tearful introduces Damien to his niece (Last last piece of the man he's spent countless lives thinking about, dreaming about and loving since his first life (I love Pharaoh/magically powerful Tucker)).

That got way more detail the more I was writing, haha... Oops 😳😬.

What do you think? Or just whatever pops into your mind. You do you, whatever you put out will be amazing!

There is loud, awful banging coming from the front door.

Or, to be more specific, there is someone banging on the door as hard as they can. At first, Alfred is wondering if he is imagining things. It was a rather quiet night for the bats to be out and about.

There was a storm that had blown through Gotham, driving everyone to take shelter. The howling winds and ran had left even the worst of scum chilled to their bones.

The bats were on their way home. Having called it a night after the third time, the wind had nearly caused two of them to fall while grappling across the city.

When he heard the noise, Alfred had just finished prepping the cave for post-patrol and went up to get everyone some warm clothes. He immediately went for one of the hidden guns around the manor.

Master Bruce was unaware of them, but Alfred had been able to hide the weapons since the lad was five years old.

Crouching low to the ground, he slowly approached one of the windows that overlooked the front door. Whoever had come knocking had somehow gotten past the first three levels of security.

Alfred leaned up only so one of his eyes could look over the window shill, keeping his back to the wall for easy push-off and the shotgun at the ready.

None of their motion detectors, video cameras, or heat vision cameras had detected the two standing figures on his porch. He couldn't see them clearly due to the water splashing against the glass, but it seemed like a man and a child.

Narrowing his eyes, Alfred leaned back down. He quickly pressed the side of his watch in three rapid clicks. At once, the signal that the manor may be compromised went out, alerting his returning family.

Alfred did not wait for a response from them. Instead, he threw himself on the ground, using the crawling technique taught to him by his years in Her Majesty's service to get closer to the door.

He trains the barrels at the wood, ignoring the desperate banging. Usually, he would have opened the door to question who they were, but it was nearly four in the morning, and he could have sworn that the man had been wearing a purple jacket and pantsuit.

In Gotham, that could only mean one thing. If the Joker was here, he would not live to see another sunrise. Alfred was done with that fool harming his family. Master Bruce's wishes be damned.

The only reason he didn't take the shot, for surely the bullets would pass through the aged wood, was that he had seen a more petite figure, too—a child.

He isn't sure who the child is—or if it is even a child—but he can't risk ending the Joker until he is sure the small;ler one is safe. Alfred had seen war many times in his military days; he did not want to force a child to live with them, too.

A few minutes pass when the banging sound starts to slow down, and there is nothing but silence. The wind contuines to howl. The rain continues to spray across the roof, and the lightning and thunder continue to roar.

Alfred feels his fingers strain with the urge to shoot but he keeps still ignoring everything until his watch beeps softly three times. Master Bruce and the children had arrived.

They must not have come through the cave, for he does not hear or sense an approach from anywhere inside the manor. A shadow overpasses him, causing Alfred to snap his gun in that direction until he registers it in the shape of a bat and quickly reaims towards the door.

He keeps himself perfectly still on the ground, even as he starts to hear faint curses, thumps, and a chilling little girl's scream. There is a moment of stillness before two figures fly through the wood—the child and the made-in-purple.

Alfred has a moment of surprise. It seemed the child was a meta before he pulled the trigger, aiming for the man's knees. His aim has not dulled with age, and the bullet sails true. Sadly, the little girl had faster reflections, making the faint glow surrounding her travel down her arm and to the man's body.

Their bodies become intangible as the bullet passes the man easily. Alfred frowns, reloading as he rolls over and swings himself to his feet.

The front door slams open as Master Bruce rushes in, followed by Master Damian. The two crime fighters slam into the strangers, somehow able to touch them when, seconds ago, metal couldn't.

Master Bruce flings the man to the wall, slamming him against one of the tables, while Master Damian has the girl in a painful hold. She thrashes and fails, but she can't get out, and Alfred wonders if her powers are limited.

Alfred trains the gun on the scene, keeping an eye on both Master Bruce and Master Damian at all times in case he needs to cover them.

"Who are you?" Master Bruce hisses, holding the purple suit man up by his collar. At this point, Alfred can see it is not Joker, for the stranger is far too young and has the wrong ethnicity.

"How did you find us?" the man gasps instead of answering, his eyes filled with tears. "The government wasn't supposed to find us here! Wayne was supposed to be safe!"

Alfred doesn't allow his brow to raise, but it's a darn thing. It didn't sound like they were here to do any harm, but one could never be too careful.

"Why are you after Wayne?"

"Don't tell him anything!" The little girl screeches, rainwater mixing with the blood dripping down her face. Master Damian had not been gentle when he slammed her against the ground. He was likely worried about Alfred. "We aren't afraid of you, GIW scum!"

"GIW?" Master Damian repeats. "Who or what are they?"

Both strangers freeze. "You're not with them?"

Master Bruce remains silent, and for one tense moment, Alfred wonders if the other man has passed out from the way he slumps in his old ward's hold.

"You're not with them. Thank the Ancients." The man gasps. He suddenly reaches out, grabbing Master Bruce in a craze of desperation. "My daughter. She's in danger. Please get her to Damian Wayne. Danny said he could protect her. Please... please help us."

His strength fades, and the man finally does fall unconscious, his hold on Master Bruce's slipping as he faints. The little girl screams- it doesn't sound human at all, and the noise likely started Master Damian's reflection, for the boy is quickly slamming onto her back, knocking her out, too.

Alfred finally lowers his weapon as the lightning flashes again, followed by loud thunder. He waits a few minutes before creeping towards Master Bruce.

The other is checking the stranger, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line once they spot that underneath the purple outfit, there are multiple wounds. Burns, cuts, and bruises decorate the dark skin of the stranger.

It's easy to see he escaped from somewhere abusive.

A gutted gasp from Master Damian has them swinging around, Alfred with his gun raised and Master Bruce with one of his batarangs at the ready. Instead of seeing the youngest being attacked, they find Damian staring in horror at the amulet he is holding.

The chain is still around the girl's neck as she was flipped onto her back- likely the lad was also checking her for wounds. Alfred can't see much but he can tell she may be just as wounded as the man.

"What is it, Robin" Master Bruce growls.

There is silence from the Katana user until one single tear rolls down from underneath the boy's mask over his cheek. He looks up at them with the most devastated expression Alfred has ever seen as he whispers.

"She bares my older brother's mark. Father, I think she's family."

"What, brother?" Master Bruce asks. "You never mentioned a brother before."

"He died.....years ago, but if Todd returned, then my brother...I left my kind-hearted brother in my Grandfather's grasp. I left him..."

The lighting flashes behind Master Damian's form, highlighting the devastation on his expression, and Alfred is filled with confusion, horror, and worry faster than the thunder can catch up.

Master Bruce's face loses all emotion- the coping mechanism Alfred had seen him use since the day he was found in that alley by the cold bodies- and growls. "To the cave. I want answers."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #The lost In-laws #Part 1 #light angst #Tw: mention of implied torture #Tw: Major chater death #It's Danny he died in Amity Park #Danny/Tucker #Dani is their daughter #Danny died to get them to saftly #Damian wasn't aware Danny lived #Alfred's pov

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emswritingsstuff · 5 months ago

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Wait (Daryl Dixon x Mute! Reader)

requested by @caseylicious !! ur request was so long i can't but it here but it was such a read and i loved it. i changed somethings accidentally so sorry if it's not what you expected 🥲

Summary: You and Daryl are the only two that understand each other.

WC: 2.6k

Daryl was pissed, you could see it on his face.

Pacing back and forth, he was trying to blow off some steam. The newcomer, Rick, had handcuffed Merle to a roof. What a great first impression. Looking at Daryl you could tell he was conflicted about the whole entire situation. His brother was one of the last things he had from the old world, and even if he dragged Daryl down, Daryl still cared.

Taking out your beat-up notebook, you quickly wrote down what you thought. ‘He’ll be okay.’ Daryl paused his pacing to read your note. He scoffed and sat down next to you, placing his head in his hands.

“Can’t lose him, one of the last things I got,” he mumbled into his hands. You could barely make out what he had said, but you could sense the hurt he was feeling. Placing a hand on his arm, you squeezed it slightly which caused him to look up at you. Flashing him a bright smile, he chuckled a bit and stood up. “Who woulda thought the mute one would be the most empathic,” he grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, promptly walking away.

It was common for Daryl to make comments like that about your relationship. When you had joined the group at the Quarry, they were cold toward you. Some of them were sweet, like Carol and her daughter, but some of the others just read you as “stubborn.” Your only form of communication was through an old notebook and an almost dead pen you had found on your travels. It felt silly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. But more than anyone, Shane was annoyed with you. He constantly never sent you out claiming “your notebook can’t save you from a geek.” It was annoying for sure, but you brushed it off.

On one of his rants Shane had insulted you again, you had just rolled your eyes and walked away. As you stormed off you heard a rough voice come to your defense. The voice you quickly recognized to be Daryl’s. “They don’ owe ya shit!” for some reason Shane’s insult had set him off, starting an argument between him and Shane. That was the first time anyone had defended you against the asshole, and you were grateful.

Later on, you walked over to the Dixon’s tent, expecting to find Daryl around. Unfortunately having to deal with Merle first. Surprisingly though, he didn’t give you too much trouble just telling you “would be nice to hear ya speak.” Which comments like those just made you roll your eyes, especially when there was no need for words.

Daryl emerged from the woods and thankfully got Merle to back off from you. “Wha’s up,” Daryl looked at you, wiping off his arrows while talking to you. You had brought your notebook with you and quickly flipped to a blank page and wrote a quick ‘thank you’ and held it up to his face. He squinted slightly as he read it, and a small smirk was painted onto his face. “Ain’t nothing, tired of his ass treatin’ ya like tha’” he moved his arm in a slight shrug motion and looked down at the arrow in his hand. On a smaller section of the same page, you quickly wrote down another message, ‘Seriously though, means a lot.’ You flashed him one last smile before retreating to your tent for the night. And you knew he was smiling back.

From that point on you and Daryl had become an unlikely duo at the camp. He would take you out hunting considering you were the quietest one there. He showed you how to track, how to shoot, and how to skin. While the skinning was your least favorite part, your grossed out expressions entertained him each time.

You had also become his ranting buddy, if he was pissed off he’d come to you to rant, even if you couldn’t respond. He enjoyed that you listened, you didn’t just dismiss him or brush him off.

He had started to understand you via your facial expressions now too.

The feeling of being understood was something foreign to you. You hadn’t always been nonverbal, and you had a feeling he knew that. Everything had just been so stressful that it just felt easier to not speak. If you speak, you run the risk of saying something wrong or saying something at the wrong time. Or at least that is how you saw it. This was a whole new thing you had to navigate, it really wasn’t easy at all. But luckily you had Daryl make you feel better about it.

And here you are, watching Daryl run off with the group to find his brother. As much as you weren’t a fan of Merle, you were hoping he would bring him back “home.” Each waking hour he was gone you felt more anxious. You understood he had to run off into the city, but him still not being back by nightfall worried you.

Morning came and they were still gone, now you were extra worried. The hours dragged on and on. Everything felt slow. Night fell and it was time for dinner, which was actually better than usual. Amy and Andrea went all out fishing earlier that day. As you ate, you listened to the conversations around you, most it being about Dale’s watch. Everyone seemed somewhat happy, it was refreshing. You had noticed Amy get up and leave, you were too focused on finishing your dinner to listen to the conversation anymore.

But soon you couldn’t ignore them, Amy’s scream piercing the air as you all got up. Walkers, they finally got to you. Everyone had sprung to action, but there were so many and most of your fighters were on the run. With your knife you were taking out as many walkers as you could. The more you kept fighting the more they made their way over to you.

The walker behind you had caught you off guard as you felt it grab you. Another one was coming toward you but before you could even act a bolt flew past you right into the walker's head. It fell to the ground and you grabbed the arrow out of its head after getting the rest off of you.

He’s back, but he didn’t look happy about it. Looking at them, everyone who had left was back. With no Merle, and that's when it clicked. You looked at him and he just nodded in response. He didn’t even want to look up at you.

All the action died down, everyone had decided to leave moving, burning, and burying the bodies until tomorrow morning. Some bodies did need to get moved, like Ed’s, but that was about it. There was a numb feeling that spread across the whole group as everyone separated into their own tents. Daryl was included in that, leaving you behind to go to him and Merle's spot.

Running back to your own spot, you grabbed the items you needed to communicate and proceeded to Daryl’s tent. When you got there you wrote down a quick ‘want company?’ before unzipping his tent slightly and sticking your arm in with the note. You heard shuffling inside the tent before he goes and zips the rest of the tent open. Meeting Daryl’s eyes he moved his head in a ‘come in’ motion and you let yourself it. You made your spot right in front of him, sitting criss cross while he held his knees up to his chest.

He looked stern, like he was thinking about something really hard. His jaw was clenching. Presumably out of anger for what happened to Merle. Getting another page ready to write, Daryl had already beat you to the conversation. “Merle’s gone. Chopped off his hand,” with the way he spoke it sounded like he had a lump in this throat. He had been crying, which you figured. Losing a brother couldn’t have been easy.

“Assholes don’ even care,” he grumbled under his breath. He was trying to compose himself, but he really had no control over it. Looking up at you, your face softened when you saw his tears stain his face. Without even thinking you held out your arms to let him hug you if he wanted. Which you guessed he did. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your shoulder.

Ever since that night you and Daryl had created a routine of spending the night together. They usually just consisted of you both sitting around, enjoying the company. Sometimes Daryl would rant to you about the day, or rant about anyone who pissed him off. Stories about his life before the apocalypse would come up. He wouldn’t talk in much detail and the stories would usually consist of Merle being an idiot. Which would make you smile like an idiot.

As time went on, Daryl changed. And so did the group itself. So many tragedies had hit. With each location you’ve been to Daryl got more and more closed off to the group. He had blamed himself for Sophia. He thought he should’ve tried harder, should’ve looked longer, just should’ve done better. It affected him in the worst way possible.

It made him quiet, but even with his silent demeanor, you could tell how he was feeling. It was obvious with all of his body language. If he was nervous or anxious he’d bite his thumb or play with his hands. If he was angry, he would look tense with his jaw clenching and pacing back and forth. There was just a lot about him that showed how he was feeling, and you always knew how to make him feel better.

You had lost your notebook during the mess of leaving the Greene farm, so communication between you and the rest of the group was shot. When first getting to the prison you tried hard to find something to write with, but with no luck. Beth had given you journal paper sometimes, but that had to get used sparingly. After a while you had just given up on the idea altogether. Just hoping facial expressions and gestures could get the job done.

It only worked for one person though, and it was Daryl. The others took a while to understand you. Daryl didn’t, he always immediately understood. He would speak up for you, it was consistent, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Every now and then you would catch Carol and Rick swapping glances whenever Daryl spoke for you. They noticed how you were with him too, you knew how to calm him down or how to make him feel better. You just knew.

It looked like you both were into each other. And while there was truth to that, you couldn’t do anything about it now. You realized at the farm that you felt more deeply about him than you originally thought. Forcing yourself to hide it wasn’t easy though, but you were certain he didn’t feel the same. Very certain. Or at least you chose to tell yourself that to cut the feelings out. It would be hard to voice your feelings without an actual way to do it, and also when you felt so uncertain about feeling safe.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, totally into you.” Looking up, you were met with Carol’s playful grin. The both of you were preparing breakfast for the group and just doing it in comfortable silence until now. Shaking your head you kept doing what you were doing with Carol giggling at your antics. “C’mon, we all see it,” she said. You responded by shrugging as you walked away to set something on the common room tables just trying to get her to change the subject. Carol just rolled her eyes and walked to set some stuff down too.

“Fine, I won’t bother you about it anymore. But don’t say I never told you so.” Carol walked out of the room to grab the group for breakfast as you just stood there. Left to process what she said. Maybe she was right, but you couldn’t bear to think about that.

Even with the safeness of the prison, somehow trouble still managed to find its way to you all. With the newfound enemy of Woodbury, you were all living on edge of a battle. Rick had been trying to make deals but with what happened with Glenn and Maggie, nothing pleased him. The Governor wants Michonne, and the prison's resources. Rick wasn’t going to budge though. Not if the people he cared about were at stake. Not to mention, Daryl had managed to get Merle back too. Turns out Merle ended up in Woodbury and unsurprisingly he was. one of the Governor's right-hand men. Daryl seemed happy to have him back, or as happy as he could be now.

A lot of what was happening had managed to fly under your nose. Busy with Judith and helping out where you were needed, all the business was foreign to you. It became your business though when you went to Daryl’s area and he was gone, and so was Merle. It had worried you to say the least, did he and Merle run again? You were really hoping, praying even, that you were wrong.

Soon enough, he was back. Thankfully uninjured physically, but you could see in his eyes something happened out there. Before you could try and communicate with him, he was needed by Rick. The Governor finally took action. Rick and Daryl had managed to drive them out, immediately heading out to take care of them for good with Michonne.

It took a couple of hours for them to come back and when they did, they had all of Woodbury’s residents with them. It surprised you to see how many people they had and making room for them was rough at first. But you all made it work.

All the excitement had calmed down for the night. The routines were turning back to normal as you watched as Daryl went to go take his watch shift. And you silently followed him. Just trying to get some alone time with him and just wanting to check up. As he stood in the watchtower you slowly walked up behind him. You slid your arms around his stomach and rested them there, head on his back. He had stiffened up at first, but soon relaxed when he saw it was your arms.

Daryl stared off into space for a while before completely breaking down. He didn’t want to say why, but you knew. Merle hadn’t come back; you assumed the worst. He had turned around to you with his head down and he buried it in your shoulder. It reminded you of when he had first lost Merle making this so much harder. Both of you stayed like that for as long as he needed.

His sobbing had stopped, at least audibly. But you still stood there hugging. Just enjoying each other's touch. Rubbing his back, you gulped. As bad as the moment had seemed, you just had to finally tell him the one thing that has been eating you alive. Just at least hoping it would help him.

“I love you.” You had said it so quietly that he was unsure if he had even heard you. Daryl pulled off you slowly holding your shoulders. He flashed a confused look at you and then you opened your mouth. Repeating it again, but louder so he knew it was real.

His rough hand moved to the back of your head as he pulled you into himself this time. “Never thought I’d hear ya speak, let alone say tha’,” A light chuckle left his lips as his grasp around you had tightened.

“Love ya too.”

just gotta say, s1-s2 daryl always has my heart omg

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #fanfic #x reader

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sscieloz · 2 months ago

Text

Live your life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and still don’t have a lot to offer. Besides, there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them without even questioning.

Warnings: lots of plot w a little bit of smut in the end, as alwayss.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: I tried following the MV in chronological order (except for that little deck scene bc I forgot abt it and when I went back to rewatch the MV I didn’t know where to squeeze it in so wtvr) and I’m kinda proud w the way it turned out ˆˆ I had lots of fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it too!! Also I ❤️ you band!aespa let me be your fucktoy I can take the four of you. and not in a fight (probably in a fight too).

pt.1 | pt.2

“Is this legal?” Ningning asks, hugging the straps of her backpack. She tilts her head up to grasp at the place that would make their stay for this week of competition, its grand walls of concrete leaving her in awe.

You’ve been wiser this time: the cache of the band’s last performance made it possible for them to buy a roof rack for your brother’s— now basically theirs— van, which provided much more space for equipment and luggage.

“Not really.” The four of you say, in unison. With a deep sigh, you grab your belongings and walk towards the huge stairs that precede the nearly-abandoned place.

“It used to be a bathhouse,” Karina tells the maknae, holding her by the shoulders as they walk forward in hopes of making her less uneasy. “But now they use it as a vintage, low-cost hostel, or whatever. It’s always cramped during these times of the year, so we’re safe Ningnie. Don’t worry.”

The bathhouse is huge, although its dirty façade announces it’s been long since the place served its initial purpose. Grass grows around their feet, nearly disappearing into the wild, and there’s a great amount of dirt clinging to their shoes in the parking lot. Three floors are presented in front of them in all of their grandness, in a structure so massive the place could be misguided as a shopping mall.

Ningning gulps, although she doesn’t look relaxed in the slightest. Going up so many flights of stairs leaves you breathless, resting your hands on your knees as soon as you reach the entry lounge. The inside of the building is much different from what you expected: it’s filled with warm lights, and most importantly, it’s packed. Young people storm from side to side, hanging out in the corners or walking in rushed paces. The mixed voices bring a lively vibe to the open area, and you smile as you watch comforting chaos unravel. Such noise is enough proof that you're here: the girls are actually going to perform in the most important music competition in the country.

A hand on your shoulder grabs your attention as you reach for your camera, itching to record every second of the journey. Ningning’s voice makes you look up amidst getting lost searching for it in the middle of your stuff.

“Y/n.” She calls for you, staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact. Her shoulders are pressed downwards, announcing a hesitant posture much unlike herself. You hum in response, acknowledging her while still looking through your backpack. “Is it ok if we room together, this time?”

You watch as Ning brushes her hands repetitively, aware something’s wrong. Ningning might be the youngest of the band, but she’s usually mature, serious, and confident; It’s concerning to have her acting like that.

“Sure, unnie.” You smile at her, looking around as you squeeze her arm in hopes of offering her some reassurance. After making sure the other girls were busy with the check-in, and that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, you ask, “Are they back again? Have you been getting any sleep?”

Ningning’s nod, followed by a tired sigh, is enough of an answer. You know being so dependent on her friends bothers her deeply, even though you’ve told her countless times none of you mind.

It’s well-known among the girls that Ning struggles with night terrors. Being an independent and strong-willed child made her extremely talented, but also very lonely. Ningning’s parents invested in her and sent her away from her hometown, Harbin before the age of 10. From then on, the maknae found herself all alone in Korea, pushing through an excruciating routine at a shitty entertainment company where people barely knew her name. She never spoke, at first because she didn’t know Korean at all— but also because people rarely talked to her; only urging her through events and evaluations like a doll.

Or better, more like a ghost. The loneliness clung to her bones, making its way through her soul until she wasn’t even sure who she was without it.

Ever since then, her nightmares have kept her awake at night, trapped in a tangled mess of absurd dreams that deprive her of getting any rest. The hallucinations are so real she’s frequently urged out of sleep with a trembling body and heavy nausea, rushing to the nearest bathroom in complete panic.

Thankfully, not sleeping by herself is something Ningning found to be of much help, even if just a bit. So the girls take turns holding the youngest member close in their arms until her body gives up to exhaustion, still trembling.

That was before Ning had gotten it under control. With the help of a professional and her friends’ endless support, she eventually learned how to suppress her troubled thoughts. As months went by, her nightmares somehow did not scare her as much as they did when she was a little girl.

Or so she thought. Asking for help meant things were not looking good at all, which set up an alarm in the back of your mind.

You had to talk to Karina about it and let the leader know. Out of the three girls, she was the most protective of Ningning: the duo acted like sisters most of the time and had a tight bond.

“We’ll get rid of those nasty monsters, Ningie.” You tell her, resting your arm on her shoulders as you walk side by side to the elevator. “Fuck them. I’ll personally beat their asses for disturbing our little princess’s sleep.”

Ningning’s laugh fills up the small corridor, and as she clings to your body, you’re reminded of how small she is. The maknae trusts you; it’s something you feel in the way she reaches out for your embrace, allowing herself to be vulnerable even if not for long.

“So,” Karina says, staring at the four of you with a serious face. “I know we all want to enjoy the festival too, and we absolutely should. But it’s late, and it’s a week-long competition, so I say we take it easy and rest today.”

The leader's words reverberate through the elevator, her assertive tone leaving it clear that it was a rather strong-willed suggestion as you all nod.

“We’ve worked hard for this opportunity.” Minjeong agrees, leaning onto the big mirror that gave the impression that the elevator was much bigger than its actual size. “Let’s not fuck it up. We can have fun later anyway.”

“Our first performance is tomorrow, but we have a bunch of interviews scheduled before that. We must be well prepared and rested.” Giselle adds, while they get onto their floor and start walking toward their assigned rooms.

Somehow, the girls always manage to get caught up with something just minutes before getting in the car for their road trip, which meant you arrived later than expected. At nearly 4 AM, everyone was tired, even though the adrenaline of being part of something as big as The Box was enough for them to be a bit jumpy, eyes darting around to capture everything dimmed possible.

The rooms were better, this time: there wasn’t any dust and the place looked fairly comforting, compared to the last place you stayed at. You drop your backpack and your small suitcase onto the ground without much care.

“Goodnight, cuties. See you in the morning.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes as you throw yourself on the bed, extra tired from being the designated driver for the entire journey. Giselle, Winter, and Karina wave faintly, too, making their way to their room at a quick pace.

Ningning smiles and watches as you stretch yourself, exhausted. She’s quick to drop her stuff and pull her single bed, although it doesn’t move further than an inch. “Y/n… help me join the beds, please?”

“Right, right. Of course.” With some effort, the two of you manage to move the two beds together into the center of the room, and you relax for a bit while Ningning occupies the bathroom. The soft sheets that welcome your face are much different from the leather seats of your car, and the change is well welcomed— so much you let out a deep sigh, relieved now that you’re finally able to relax.

After changing into your pajamas, you stare at the ceiling and you wait for Ningning to hop out of the shower and join you in bed before falling asleep yourself. However, the last thing your mind registers are the soft sounds of Yizhuo’s shower before sleep takes over your body and you lose a short-lived battle to unconsciousness.

—

Life is anything but peaceful when you give up a normal, ordinary life to live off of music. Not that it’s a bad thing: if anything, the thrill of not having a routine grants to the girls a type of freedom that only comes with art.

That’s all Karina can think about as the five of you hang out at a big, open field. There’s a fence where you and Ningning sit, and the cool breeze messes up her long, pitch-black hair. More than freedom, the leader’s chest also burns with a deep sense of accomplishment.

Within a blink, she’s at the bathhouse’s rooftop and this time her bandmates chat lively by the place’s enormous sign. It’s nighttime, and a different kind of unsettlement takes place inside her rebel heart this time, one Karina feels deep in her bones.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dwell much: her senses prove to be right almost immediately when they’re struck by a sea of shooting stars. They fly by so fast Karina barely sees them, making their way through with such strength she’s pushed onto the ground. There’s only enough time for her to grab a single star, grasping the small light within her hands as strongly as she can.

But just as fast as it happened, the storm is gone. Karina looks up to talk to you and the girls about it, but you’re nowhere to be seen. She frowns, realizing she’s left all alone, under the darkness of a starless sky.

That’s when she wakes up: breathless, trembling badly as she grabs her neck in hopes of making more air run through her lungs. Despite the cool night, her body is drenched in sweat. Yet, the oldest member can’t help but sigh in relief once she looks up beside her and finds Minjeong peacefully asleep. The leader looks to the other bed, where Giselle’s faint snores can be heard, her mouth hanging slightly open as saliva drools onto the bassist’s pillow.

Karina’s safe. She’s with her girls, in the comfort of their room.

Yet the loneliness she felt still echoes through her body, hurting enough to draw small tears from her eyes before she acknowledges it. It had been such an empty moment… to look up and not see any of the people she loved and cherished deeply.

It’s something Karina decides she never wants to feel again.

“Mhm…” Minjeong stirs, her eyes half open as she stretches her arms out. Karina’s noises probably woke her up— the girl has never been a deep sleeper anyway. “What are you doing awake?”

A few seconds go by, and Karina stays silent. The answer comes when the blonde is almost falling asleep again, so low Minjeong thinks she’s imagining it. “You left me there, all alone. All of you.”

“We… who?” Minjeong’s voice is scrappy with confusion. She looks at the leader, scratching her head as she watches Karina get up. “Why would we do that? We’re literally right here, unnie.”

Minjeong’s attempts to understand her friends fail. If anything, she’s bluntly ignored by Karina, who shakes Giselle gently until she manages to get the Japanese girl up, although clearly in a zombie-like state, still barely conscious.

The weather was still a bit hot by the time they arrived, so the girls agreed to leave the old, arched windows open for the night. Now, the wind had messed up the leader’s wavy hair, and there were little eye-bags under her eyes from waking up so abruptly. As a result of such an intense dream, Karina’s lips trembled and her body lacked its usual strength, which was noticeable by her limp arms. She looks fragile, clearly disturbed by a train of thoughts echoing inside her mind.

And the way the leader stares at Minjeong so helplessly… It’s the reason why she doesn’t question when Karina offers her hand to help the blonde out of bed, in complete silence. One that remains until the leader unlocks your and Ningning’s room with her spare card, walking onto the bed with light steps— as if she was taken by the wind itself.

Your bedroom is not as big as theirs, and the improvised bed is still rather small, but Karina makes it fit. Her hand is keen on Giselle’s back, urging the girl back to bed as the leader lies her down once again. Like in a puzzle, Minjeong squeezes herself between your arched back and Ning’s body, careful to not wake up either of you.

“Feeling better?” She asks Karina, who watches the scene with a small smile. Minejong’s heart is filled with warmth at the girl’s pretty face, as she closes her eyes once again.

“Much better.” The vocalist murmurs, calm and collected. Being tangled with her girls at one of the country’s most successful music events is enough to dissipate her previous loneliness. There’s nothing else she needed but the five of you. “I’m no longer alone, now.”

She’s complete.

—

The Box is an event created for Companies from all over the country to show off their assets and make as much profit as possible—and they make sure to capitalize on every second of it, which is as much of a burden as it is an opportunity for its participants. The girls had interviews, outfit changes, and makeup booths provided by sponsors, guaranteed as long as they shot commercials and launched a few good words about their brands.

Held in a big, open area, the place brings goosebumps to Karina’s stomach, reminiscing too much of her dream as the same clouds wind on the sky, blocking the sun’s path. Just as she had done moments prior, you look up too, frowning. The lack of light makes the day seem gloomier than usual, and a single droplet of rain would result in an atrocious, muddy day.

And that would be a disaster, for sure.

“So,” After recording the stage they’d perform at in just a few hours, you turn around and nearly shove your camera on Giselle’s face. “Enlighten us, Gigi: why is the festival named The Box if the main stage is actually a big fucking losangle?”

Giselle’s tone is condescending as she adjusts her perfectly arranged bangs, giving you a dirty look before answering. “Y/n, my love.” She redirects the camera to capture both of your faces, smearing your cheek with her lip gloss. “You just have to accept some things: like the weather, time… and The Box’s setup. It’s how it’s always been, so let’s not dwell on that matter, okay? Thanks.”

“Very well, then. You heard her.” You nod back at the camera, capturing the massive stage for a few more seconds before pausing the recording.

Giselle’s passive-aggressiveness was one of her hottest traits, and you loved to watch her boss people around. Which she always made sure of doing, whenever she had the chance to.

The Japanese girl giggles at your words, nudging you gently. Not much further from you, Karina and Ningning stand in a big line for something popular dish. You wave to them, and Giselle straightens her posture, following your stare as she grunts.

“So, you and Jimin, huh.” She asks, plucking at the grass with her shoes. It’s obvious she’s trying her best to sound nonchalant and not make a big deal out of it.

It was no secret that you were devoted to Karina, surrendering yourself with as much as a whisper from her. Still, it was amusing to you how shy Giselle seemed with her question. Her hesitation was sweet, so cute it draws a smile from your face.

“Oh… well, yeah.” You shrug, not at all ashamed of her hidden inquiry. “She needs someone to warm up her bed.” You eye Giselle attentively, studying the older girl’s body language before adding, “I can help you with that too if you’d like. I know Jimin unnie wouldn’t mind.”

Your answer catches her off guard, her eyes wide from your straightforwardness. You’re nearly teasing her for being so shocked when she laughs, shaking her head at your straightforwardness. It’s Giselle, after all: the girl has such a flirty nature you’d be surprised if she didn’t give you a run for your money.

“We’ll see... You’re sure one of a kind, Y/n. That you are.” She answers, with a sultry tone before gently squeezing your arm and vanishing from your sight.

That is enough for you. The Japanese girl’s gorgeous looks and confident nature make her so desirable and hot— truly an it girl, often leading the group to try out new music styles and different types of choreographies. Giselle is always pushing herself outside her comfort zone.

It’s good that she knows you’re also willing to try anything she’d like, too.

Brushing that subject off your mind, you take some time to dive into the festival, just as curious as the girls were: the place is still beautiful, despite the weather. Its lively atmosphere is enchanting, and there is so much happening: from bands singing on minor stages to dance performances not much further from where you stand. Everyone seems eager to participate, and you’re just as excited to watch everything at once.

This event is also a great opportunity for you, considering you’re still attending university— hoping to major in Media Arts in a year or so. Even though you spend most of the time following the girls around, your passion for filmmaking and photography is also one of the reasons you’re so committed to recording everything your eyes meet. You plan on making this documentary into your final presentation of the year and submitting it to one of your main classes.

So you record everything: making a full turn to capture your entire experience. You’re so committed to your task that you don’t even notice Minjeong’s frame behind you, the blonde girl not making an effort to move such thing as an inch from out of your way.

The two of you collide with each other so roughly you have to hold onto the girl’s tiny frame with your free hand to prevent her from a having dirty fall. Minjeong gives you an ugly look, impatiently wiping the dirt from her plaid skirt. She’s judgy, as always— not a day goes by where the blonde doesn’t give you a hard time.

Although you weren’t exactly peaceful to her, either.

“Do you ever wear a bra?” She mumbles, annoyed. Minjeong’s fingers press the tip of her nose bridge and she closes her eyes as if dealing with you was enough to drain all of her energy.

“Why are you looking anyway?” You’re quick to snap back, crossing your arms over your chest.

Choosing comfort over fashion was something you’d always do, and today was no different. Your look for the day was rather basic but perfect for someone who’d be walking around the entire time: a pair of jeans and a plain white tank top that made your Aespa badge visible to anyone who took a quick look at you. However, that little show of hers has made the dirt that clung onto the fabric attract attention to your breasts, highlighting the way your pierced nipples peeked through. It had only been a few weeks since you and Giselle got them done, so you were still a bit hypersensitive.

Not that you minded, anyway. Minjeong would be a jerk regardless of that: the blonde made her life’s purpose to annoy the shit out of you, and she’s very committed on doing so.

Proving your point, Winter scoffs, all annoyed.

“You always make this shit on purpose, don’t you?” You stare at her, confused, and it seems like she’s had enough. Rolling her eyes, Minjeong brushes past you, nearly dragging you by the shoulders as she stomps away. “Whatever. Whore.”

Minjeong is so rude. Undeniably so, with an insanely stubborn temper. Her mood changes quickly, and it is hard to tell if she genuinely hates you or if it is just some kind of playful banter.

Not that you cared much, honestly. There were many important things for you to worry about, like the amazing festival happening at the moment. You’d deal with that nightmare of a girl some other time.

Instead of allowing the petite girl to disturb your mind, you decide to walk around by yourself too— despite preferring to be surrounded by the girls at all times, you were cool to be on your own.

You were deeply committed to making a masterpiece out of your clips. If the work you handed in was good enough, then perhaps your professor would overlook the number of absences on your attendance sheet and give you a nice grade.

After walking around for a few minutes, a certain stage catches your attention: the structure is small and curiously held like a boxing ring, where nine girls sing and dance in beautiful harmony. The space is so far from the center of the festival its last rounds of chairs nearly drag onto the woods that surround the place.

The girls performing are all dressed in dark pants, white crop tops, and black ties, and they’re incredibly in synch while still making complicated moves. Their voices are sweet, and so is the music that flows to your ears: it’s a cover of one of your favorite songs, KARA’s Mr.

Your eyes go straight to the sign that hangs in front of the stage, looking for said group’s name. Thankfully, it’s easy to find, both in Hangul and Romanized.

Fromis9.

The nine girls’ bright stage presence fills up the area, and it amazes you how coordinated they are, not one outshining the other despite being so many. No lines are stolen in the song; instead, they add to each other beautifully, reminding you of your girls. The contrast is fascinating, from Aespa’s four-member band to those strangers, who sing cheerful songs like this will be the last happy summer of their lives.

You’re enchanted by them, truthfully. Not only talented, the girls seem genuinely sweet, as they spin and jump around to hype up the dead crowd. And oh, they’re stunning: each one with striking features, ones that surely seem like they’ve been taken straight out of a fairytale.

You make sure to record their entire performance, as well as the little playful moments reserved for interacting with their fans and supporters. Soon enough, the song ends, leaving the group breathless but happy. You watch as the girls bow and take turns passing small water bottles around, tired from giving their all on stage.

A few of them start a small discourse, although you don’t pay enough attention to grasp the meaning of their words. You’re too busy staring at one of them instead, hiding behind your camera so she doesn’t see how enamored you are.

The girl is small, but her slim waist and toned muscles announce she must spend most of her free time at the gym. An energetic pink-haired girl clings to one of her arms, providing a clear contrast to her long, pitch-black hair, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest: if anything, she hugs the energetic girl back, laughing and she twirls her friend around.

Luckily for you, there’s a big paper clasped in front of her shirt, just like every artist who is currently performing and competing at The Box. You search for her name with expectation, just like you’ve done with her group’s name.

Hers say, Saerom.

A beautiful name for an enchanting girl.

However, it’s her face that surprises you the most. She’s beautiful, of course— stunningly so, but so is everyone at this festival: something expected for a place with such a high concentration of artists, models, and people in the entertainment industry in general. But as you look into her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, you’re surprised to find such kind eyes staring back at you. Saerom’s eyes provide her soft, almost ethereal look as she nods to you. It’s a faint action, one a distracted eye would barely notice once she moves back to the middle of the stage with her bandmates, yet you’d never miss it. There’s no way she wouldn’t stand out, despite her plain outfit.

You could stare at her for hours.

Although you’re incapable of doing so: in a blink, steady hands grab your camera, and your arms are urged down so fast you nearly let it fall on the ground. Nothing disastrous happens, thanks to your steady grip and good reflex, but your vision is blocked by a serious Karina, fuming as she stares angrily at you.

“What are you doing, Y/n?” The leader’s cocky, angry voice is something you only hear when she’s feeling intimidated or when she wants to be petty, which is unusual for the occasion. Why would she be so defensive towards you?

Karina usually yaps her heart out until your ears hurt from her complaints. It’s a normal thing for her to do, whenever she’s pissed. However, she doesn’t say anything this time, clearly waiting— demanding an explanation.

So you lift your camera, playfully poking her in a failed attempt of easing the grumpiness out of her. “I’m making The Box’s documentary as my final presentation.” You stay on your tiptoes, trying to get a hold of the view Karina is blocking so confidently, but it’s useless by now: the performance is over, and the Fromis9 members have already retreated backstage. “For that class I told you about, remember?”

Karina rolls her eyes, ignoring your explanation as she directs you in the opposite direction. With a resolute tone, she brushes off the matter. “Whatever. Listen, Y/n: you should only focus on us, your band. There’s no need for you to look at anyone else.”

Oh, Karina’s fuming. It’s easy to tell, from the way she refuses to meet your face to the red that paints her cheeks. You giggle, enjoying her subtle possessiveness.

Truth be told, you thrived on being reassured just as much as the girls did. The only difference was that you made an immense effort to hide how much it aroused you, well aware they’d use it as an advantage.

Besides, there was a bit of truth behind her words: the girls were the only ones you truly felt connected to; they were yours just as much as you were theirs, and you didn’t feel like you needed to meet new people.

“Of course, Jimin unnie.” You nod, walking next to her as you turn your camera off and place it back in your backpack. “Aespa is the only band worth looking at, anyway.”

Karina blossoms under your praise, smiling brightly as she kisses you gently, her irritation gone. “Good girl. Now let’s go to the main stage. There are only two hours until our performance, and the girls are starting to get ready.”

You’d like to tease her back a bit but now wasn’t the time. Not when the band’s nerves were all over the place, nervous they’d fuck up the opportunity of their lives. No, you wouldn’t do such a thing. You’d be their anchor, peace, and most faithful supporter as you always were, ready to remind the girls of their true potential.

With that, you and Karina walk back to the main stage with synchronized steps, and the moment with Saerom is brushed off to the back of your mind.

You've probably imagined the entire thing, anyway. There was nothing to wonder.

—

“Hello, girls. Are you Aespa?” The staff asks, entering the room with his eyes glued to the list in his hands. After the five of you nod, he adds, with a comforting smile, “You’re on in 30. Come after you finish your makeup and clothes so we can start the soundcheck and set up your microphones.”

With another nod, you fall into a nervous silence once again. The girls have waited for this opportunity for so long; the crowd’s heated screams could be heard from where you stood, only adding to the girl’s expectations. It was the first time they performed in front of so many people, let alone at such a big and renowned festival.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Giselle mumbles, softening her necklace as if it were suffocating her. Her breaths were uneven, her eyes fixated on the ground.

Karina smiles softly at the girl. As the leader, she knows it’s her duty to look composed and relaxed, to tranquilize her bandmates. “You’re not going to throw up, Gigi. You just need some air. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The leader grabs Giselle by the arm, urging her up. As they go through the door, Ningning rushes to follow their steps.

“I need to breathe too.” She gulps, not even sparing you a glance as she runs to catch up with her friends.

The nerves were striking, and they needed to look composed so they’d give their all on stage, as always.

You and Minjeong were the only ones left backstage, which allowed you to take some time to study her better. The blonde was perfectly still on the couch, with a rigid posture and hands clasped tightly on her lap. She looked composed, almost bored, as she always did— but you know her better.

Minjeong’s muscles were visibly tense, and her left leg was bouncing so much you were afraid it’d be chopped off from her body. She’s usually so composed, rarely giving a fuck about anything in her life. Whatever it was, the most Minjeong would do was roll her eyes at it or give it a nasty, rude response. Nothing else.

Seeing her bottle up her feelings like that is something that leaves you deeply uncomfortable. The way she deals with her emotions is none of your business of course, and it’s not like she ever talks about how she’s feeling with anyone anyway.

Minjeong rarely talks about herself; not to you or her bandmates. She’s simply someone very private when it comes to that matter. It’s something the blonde struggles with— understanding and acknowledging her emotions are not things that come to her naturally, so Minjeong would often carry her burdens alone until the feelings get so heavy she explodes, taking it off on someone who has nothing to do with whatever it is she’s going through.

Although it surprises you to see how deeply caring the girl can be. Minjeong, who knows Karina loves apple-flavored candy and sorts them out for her leader, even though they all think it’s gross. Minjeong, whose personal space is sacred, allows Ningning to be as clingy as she wants, aware the maknae longs for physical contact after being deprived of it so much as a child. Minjeong, who is the most competitive person you’ve ever met, but lets Giselle beat her at deck games whenever they notice the Japanese girl is feeling down.

Minjeong, who despises you thoroughly, but snuck a new SD card into your purse after seeing you struggle with your camera for a few days.

You didn’t want her to make her big debut feeling like a nervous wreck. She needs to relax, and not be so tense otherwise she won’t do good in her performance.

And you know just what to do.

With a sigh, you drop your hand from the doorknob and turn to her, leaning on the wall to take a better look at her.

“You’re nervous.” You state, smirking at the sight of her face growing red—the blonde girl, usually so collected… oh, how she hates to be caught.

Most importantly, Minjeong hates you can always see right through her.

“Well no shit, Sherlock.”

Walking towards her with small, unhurried steps, you sit right next to her, crossing your legs as you lean onto her.

“I can help you with that.” You whisper to her, staring at her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Minjeong scrunches her nose but doesn’t move away. Her answer, however, comes immediately— not an ounce of hesitation coming from her mouth. “Not at all.”

“Good.” You cup her face. “Wise girl.”

Leaning in, you capture Minjeong’s lips in a messy kiss. Despite her fiery personality, she tastes sweet, and you savor the strawberry essence of her lip gloss. Kissing Minjeong is addictive, yet you can’t seem to get enough of her. You lick her lips and devour her until your lungs scream for air, and the two of you get off each other when there’s no air and you’re both left desperate and breathless.

Minjeong’s blonde hair flows freely, her scrutinizing stare forgotten the moment the two of you got so close your breaths entwined. For a moment, you don’t do anything but stare at each other, as you look for any signs of what she’d like to do next. You’re nearly sure she’d tell you to get lost until she grabs your neck and pulls you close, kissing you for the second time.

“You’re completely insufferable, Y/n.” She murmurs in between the kiss as her thumb brushes down your neck. Even though there’s a faint pressure, her touch is almost soothing, urging you down to your knees. “Now, do more.”

You’re more than eager to follow her wishes, urging her pants and underwear down in a swift motion. Minjeong’s pussy is so pretty, all pink, swollen, and glistening, and you lick your lips with anticipation. The blonde girl lies comfortably on the couch as she spreads her folds with two of her fingers— showing herself to your hungry gaze.

“How do I look right now, Y/n?” Her tone is drenched with mockery as you squeeze her thighs, drawing a shiver from her. Your hands trace tiny circles on her milky skin, and you choose to ignore her; too focused on her beautiful body on display for you.

Minjeong’s free hand goes to grip your hair, annoyed by your lack of response. “Fine, then. Do you want to know how you look?”

Her malicious smile, much different from her delicate features, is what makes you shiver at her concentration. Giving her thighs faint bites, you ask, “Enlighten me, Minjeong.”

“Like a whore.” Her grip tightens and you can’t help but bite harder this time. “Hey! See, I’ve always said you’re just a cheap who—“

Minjeong is silenced by your warm tongue on her pussy, licking a big stripe of her sex, as you go all the way up to suck on her clit as well. Her high-pitched moans are like music to your ears, and you take turns sucking her sensitive bud and letting out some lewd, loud sounds as you nearly make out with her pussy.

“Do you want my fingers, pretty girl?” You mumble, staring at her through your lashes.

Minjeong looks like a painting, beautiful with her mouth half-opened and a thin cover of sweat covering her brows. She nods frantically, urging you even closer.

Greedy, that’s what she is.

“Yes, please.” It’s the first time you’ve ever seen use her manners, so you’re quick to comply. “Fuck, Y/n…”

Two of your fingers enter her cunt without any resistance as you thrust hard and fast. She bucks her hips to add to the stimulation, and you’re graced with the glorious view of her abs, thankful she chose a tiny crop top for the day. You want to see her tits, too, but it’s not like you’re in any position to demand anything— not while Minjeong uses you as a toy, rocking onto your mouth as her moans grow louder and louder.

You feel her walls tensing up, and her toes curl as she tells you, “Y/n, I’m going t—“

“Cum for me, Minjeongie.” You give her clit one last, harsh suck, as her breathing becomes even quicker. “That’s it, let go.”

Minjeong follows your commands, reaching her orgasm with a high-pitched moan as she squeezes your head in between her thighs. Her body trembles from the stimulation, and you keep your fingers inside her walls until she’s calmed down enough that her screams are reduced to heavy breaths. You lick her clean, then, careful to not touch her clit as you eat her out for a few other moments.

What’s most surprising to you, though, is the delicacy in her touch as she urges you up, tasting herself on your lips.

“Sweet.” She giggles, before grabbing your tank top and pushing you off her. Minjeong’s obsessed with oversized jeans, and her current ones look huge on her tiny waist as she takes her time with buttoning up. “I really needed that, Y/n. Thanks.”

You don’t bother to hide a cocky smile as you nod, shrugging.

“You’re going own that fucking stage today, Minjeong. All of you.” It’s what they were born to do. There isn’t a slight possibility of them not doing their absolute best on stage.

“I know.” Minjeong looks around, bouncing back and forth with her hands on her jeans’ back pocket. After a pause, she adds, with a quiet tone, “You’re going to be there, right? At the front row. Recording and all. It’s one of the only things you’re useful for.”

You smile, understanding the hidden meaning behind her bored tone. “Of course, I will, dumbass. I’ll be there with you, as always.”

You’d always be there for your girls: cheering, supporting, or helping the band with anything they needed.

Karina, Ningning, Giselle, and Minjeong were not sure of when you had become such an important figure in their lives, but there was something they all agreed on: they’ve grown too fond of you now. It was impossible to let you go.

Not that you had any intentions of leaving their side, anyway.

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

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Decided to combine 4 and 12 of the prompt list! Something about these two prompts was giving me major Addams Family vibes, so I rolled with it lol

If there are any other prompts you want to see written, lemme know!

4. “You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”

12. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Wherein the Munsons are branches on the Addams Family tree, and Steve finds himself the object of Eddie Munson's flirtations and devotion.

---

When the Munsons move in next door, Steve sits his brother down in the living room and says, "Don't bother them, Dustin. Wait, like, three days before asking for their life stories."

Dustin looks offended, to say the least. "I wasn't gonna ask for their life stories, Steve. I was gonna ask where they got all the bats and birds that hang out on their roof."

Honestly, Steve would love the answer to that, too, but that seems to be encroaching on the "life story" territory, considering the sheer number of flying creatures the Munsons brought with them. He'd been outside getting the mail when the Munson kids, a boy his own age and a girl Dustin's age, had opened a tiny cat carrier, and a veritable storm of black wings and feathers and screeching had somehow come streaming out of it.

The girl was watching them with a smile, and the boy turned around like he'd felt Steve staring. Their gazes met, and Steve's awkward wave was returned with the boy's eyes raking over him before winking with a grin.

"Look, ju-"

Steve's words are cut off by a banging on the door, the person knocking out a beat that he can't follow. He shoots Dustin a look to stay put before he opens the door to find the Munson boy on the other side. He's got that same playful grin and a plate of pitch-black...something in his hands.

"Uh, hi?"

Somehow, the boy's grin gets wider, and he shoves the plate into Steve's hands. "Heeeellooo, big boy," he says, his voice almost lowering into a purr that makes heat flood Steve's cheeks. "Wayne wanted me to drop off some of his famous arsenic and chocolate chip cookies. You know, since we're neighbors and all."

"Wayne? Arsenic?" Steve mumbles, looking down at the cookies warily.

"Our uncle," the boy says, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms as he looks Steve up and down again. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. Yet. That's a friend of the family privilege, at least, and you just ain't there yet."

It must be a joke, and Steve lets out a strained laugh. He balances the plate in one hand and holds his other one out. "Right, well, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Steve. You'll probably meet my brother, Dustin, later."

The boy takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his lips. Then he turns Steve's hand over, brushing his lips across the meat of his palm before nipping. Steve jerks, yanking his hand back and holding it close to his chest, his heart beating erratically as the boy says, "I'm Eddie, my sister's name is El, and I'm going to have so much fun with you, Stevie."

And with that, Eddie turns on his heel and saunters back to the Munson home, which had been painted pitch-black (just like the cookies) at some point. Steve doesn't move from the open door, feeling a faint tingling in his palm, until he hears Dustin shout that he's going to let all the cold air out.

The arsenic and chocolate chip cookies had not, in fact, killed either of them. And, despite their burnt-to-coal appearance, they were soft and chewy. It had immediately put the Munsons in Dustin's good graces, which he happily proclaimed while Steve's head and heart were still reeling from Eddie's introduction.

In the following weeks, Eddie kept popping up whenever Steve left the house. He never overstepped, though. He'd appear at a distance, wait for Steve to wave or say hi, and then approach with that big grin with canine teeth that looked a little sharper than they should. Sometimes he'd offer more baked goods from Wayne (always with some schtick to them: eye of newt brownies, hag's breath toffee, cyanide and cherry pie). On one notable occasion, he'd offered a baseball bat with nails stuck through the end.

"El let out a demodog the other day, so you probably ought to be careful. I'd hate for you to get hurt by something that wasn't me," Eddie had said as Steve confusedly took the bat.

He blinked when he had processed the words and looked up. "You would hurt me?" Steve asked.

Eddie had leaned close, his ringed fingers ghosting over Steve's side and inching closer to his waist, and whispered, "It wouldn't just hurt, Stevie." His words had sent a shiver down Steve's spine, his mouth suddenly dry as Eddie pulled away.

And their interactions had escalated from there. With every meeting, Eddie strayed closer, lingered longer, spoke softer, and Steve couldn't escape the growing devotion and fascination in his eyes. At some point, Steve knew, things were bound to boil over.

So, he definitely wasn't surprised when they did at the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July cookout. Eddie had waited until El and Dustin were distracted by their other friends, checked to make sure Wayne was sufficiently busy with helping at the grill, and then kidnapped Steve to a hidden corner of the Byers's yard.

Which brings Steve to the present, the Byers's house casting a long shadow over him and Eddie so nobody notices them. The sound of other kids screeching with delight and parents discussing summer camps fades when Eddie leans in closer.

"You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything?" Eddie asks, tilting Steve's chin up as he crowds him against the wall.

Steve presses back against the cool brick, silently holding Eddie's gaze. There's a stark seriousness to his words, and Steve can't help his curiosity about just what anything encompasses. "Would you kill for me?" he asks, his voice soft.

Eddie practically lights up, a feral grin pulling at his lips. "Gladly, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Would you die for me?"

"I'd tear out my heart and present it on a fucking silver platter for you. In fact, I can do it right now, if you'd like." A knife appears in his hand from seemingly nowhere, and Eddie brings it to his own chest only for Steve to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

"Then, what about living for me?" Steve asks, carefully taking the knife from Eddie and smoothly returning it to the holder tucked into his jeans.

Eddie leans in until their noses brush, his hand cupping Steve's jaw. "I wouldn't even dream of dying without your permission, Stevie," he whispers.

And Steve would fucking love to meet the person who could withstand Eddie Munson's attention and flirting and gifts and care and sheer devotion without falling head-over-heels for him. Steve would want to put that person in a jar, study them, see if their indifference is something he could mass produce. He's sure Eddie would be thrilled to help him do it, too.

"I have one request," Steve whispers back, reaching up and pushing his hand into Eddie's hair, warmth rushing through him when Eddie leans into the touch.

"Anything. Say the word, and I wouldn't hesitate to crawl through hot coals and broken glass." Steve has zero doubts Eddie would; in fact, he knows Eddie would be ecstatic to do it, if only for the chance to make Steve smile.

"I want one of the bats. And Dustin wants a demodog, but you better make sure it doesn't hurt him, or I'll make you listen to bubblegum pop and watch a Disney marathon."

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Eddie, his eyes revealing a mix of horror, pride, and love at Steve's words. "You, Stevie, have perfected the art of making threats. Consider your two requests granted and me sufficiently...threatened," Eddie breathes, somehow managing to press even closer.

And Steve can't make either of them wait a second longer. With a grin that can easily rival Eddie's, Steve kisses him and begins to think of names for his bat.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #addams family #stranger things #i just love the addams family so much #one of my favorite aus to make actually #the way they love is so pure and unapologetically genuine #even if it's different from the norm of love and courtship #that makes it even more romantic #my writing

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robinsfilm · 11 days ago

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⌕ search result ＞ ʬʬ dc/reader. ＞ four tabs open !

⎙ tab. 01 ░ jason todd/reader ⤸

⟢ one-shots ⤸

ʬʬ rouge in his hands | smut

There you stand, on the edge of the dance floor. The golden filigree of the ivory floor glows beneath your feet. The crystal chandelier casts a shimmering light upon your dewy skin. The rouge-colored velvet fabric flows across your frame like waves in a calm sea. He almost chokes on his breath.

ʬʬ coffee and pistols for two? | fluff

for jason every bruise is a reminder of Gotham’s relentless toll. Haunted by the brutality of last night’s patrol, he tries to find calm in you — your voice cuts through the haze, a gentle lifeline he didn’t know he needed.

ʬʬ tangled in red | fluff

in which you wrap the velvet red of jason's jacket around you, similar to him as it blankets you in the warmest hug. jason can't help but find it endearing.

ʬʬ tricks, treats and together | fluff

in which it's halloween, you decide to spend it with your boyfriend's family: pumpkin carving, baking sweets, taking his little brother trick-or-treating and getting mistaken for his parents.

ʬʬ 16, clumsy and shy | fluff

in which you and jason navigate the confusingly addicting sweet feelings of puppy love. (three times you seek jason out and one time he seeks you out, basically 3+1 fic).

ʬʬ a sight so sweet | fluff

jason can't seem to get enough of you, his watchful eye never leaves you — his muse.

ʬʬ you're my man (of bright light) | fluff

in which you and your boyfriend spend a sickly sweet and unforgettable night at a fair, but the clock hasn't hit twelve yet and there's still one more suprise: running into his family!

ʬʬ oh, take me back (to the night we met) | angst + comfort

in which, a young jason as robin meets a lonely stranger up on a barren roof, a silent promise takes root that night, forever remembered and kept.

ʬʬ tongue tied | fluff

in which, not even bookshelves like giants and the library's hidden away corner can conceal jasons flushed and pink-hued cheeks from you and your saccharine words.

ʬʬ damsels in distress | fluff

in which, it's halloween! you decide to spend it with your sweet boyfriend and watch a classic horror movie. none of you are scared, that's just silly!

ʬʬ hero for a day | fluff

in which you steal away your vigilante boyfriends helmet and get to experience what's it like to be in his shoes for a day.

ʬʬ lilac-blossoms & book stands | fluff

in which two strangers — you and jason meet at a book stand and can't help but feel a connection.

ʬʬ plushies & cuddles | fluff

in which jason comes back late from patrol and finds a competitor for your affection.

ʬʬ cookies & bake-offs | fluff

in which you try to bake and jason keeps trying to sneakily taste it.

ʬʬ furry new beginnings | fluff

in which the cat distribution system catches up to you and jason.

ʬʬ carnation letters | fluff

in which jason, struggling with words, leaves you heartfelt notes hidden in bouquets of carnations, each one revealing more of his feelings for you.

ʬʬ poisoned wells | angst

in which jason todd tries to get used to the new beginning brought to him, but the tendrils of the past have a way of dragging us all down to the bottomless pit of the well, forever looking up above for salvation.

ʬʬ offered tenderness | fluff

in which you and jason bask in the comfort of the presence of the both of you, forever warm and all-consuming, trusting after a horrid storm.

⟢ drabbles ⤸

ʬʬ demisexual + touchstarved ! jason todd

thoughts about how a demisexual jason todd deals and responses to touch, both sexual and non-sexual and how he gives his trust to his partner.

ʬʬ phantom of the opera ! jason todd

thoughts about jason todd and reader going as erik and christine for halloween and the parallels between their characters.

⟢ prompts ⤸

ʬʬ november ³ | fluff

frozen peas pressed against bruised skin.

ʬʬ november ⁴ | fluff

folktale.

⎙ tab. 02 ░ dick grayson /reader ⤸

currently empty.

⎙ tab. 03 ░ tim drake/reader ⤸

currently empty.

⎙ tab. 04 ░ duke thomas/reader ⤸

currently empty.

⟢ miscellaneous ⤸

moodboards

#. ( masterlist )#. ( navigation )#jason todd x reader #dc x reader #dc #dc universe #x reader

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riddlebrothersroofing · 13 days ago

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Transform Your Home with Expert Solar and Patio Installation Services

Enhance your home's functionality and energy efficiency with expert solar installation and patio installation services. Professional solar installation helps you reduce energy costs and transition to sustainable energy, creating a greener home with lower environmental impact. By installing high-quality solar panels, you’re investing in long-term savings and increasing your property’s value. Complementing this with a custom-designed patio brings additional outdoor enjoyment, perfect for family gatherings, relaxation, and entertaining guests. With skilled professionals handling each installation, your patio will be built to suit your lifestyle and enhance your home’s aesthetics. Both services are tailored to meet your specific needs, ensuring seamless integration with your property’s design and lasting durability. Trust in our expert team to deliver quality workmanship, reliable materials, and excellent customer service, making your home both beautiful and energy-efficient for years to come.

#home improvement #roofing & construction #roof replacements and repairs #brothers roofing company #storm brothers roofing #rosillo brothers roofing #riddle construction #roofing installation #roofing brothers #w brothers roofing

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months ago

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Part 18

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: pls trust me that some things will be explained in chapter 19 🙇

word count: 7,003

-Part 17- -Part 19-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Sharp, amber eyes pierce down into the male, despite having less than an inch’s difference in height.

Lucien keeps his surprise under wraps as he greets his oldest brother, stood before the slightly dilapidated building he and his companions have taken up in, a few boards nailed over one of the upper windows that had broken during a particularly vicious storm. He recalls how Jurian had scavenged some of the plain silverware and they’d drawn spoons to see who would have to climb the roof and patch it up before the autumn chill hit. It’s a fond memory, in spite of his loss.

“Eris,” Lucien greets shortly, holding position in blocking the male from strutting straight into his home as he knows the male would, given the chance. Not the building itself, exactly, but the people hidden away inside it, and he’d rather not subject them to another visit unless absolutely necessary. Neither of them are particularly well-equipped against Eris’ kind of verbal espionage, how he hunts the information he seeks and so effortlessly riles them up. Vassa is particularly prone to bursting into a flaming temper whenever the male pays them an unpleasant visit.

“It’s rude to keep a guest waiting, Lucien,” Eris drawls from overside the threshold. Even after all this time he can’t help the instinctive part of him that cringes at the razor sharp tone used to cut into his name, carve it into something jagged and serrated. Perhaps when he was younger he might have returned with ‘it’s rude to show up without invitation’, but he learned long ago it’s best to avoid any kind of verbal conflict with the male. Ultimately it’s tiring and a waste of energy, so instead Lucien offers a mildly withering glare, and asks, “What are you here for?”

Eris’s features remain sharp but blank, unshifting and drawing a clear line in the sand. Another silent demand he’s more than accustomed to, and wishes he wasn’t. “You can’t just show up without prior notice and expect to be escorted in. There are humans inside and you’ll scare them off.”

“That’s fine by me,” Eris replies, his amber eyes silently simmering with inherent arrogance. “Step aside.”

“Don’t order me around,” Lucien replies evenly, not a note of sharpness to be found, but firm and unyielding. “You’re in their lands. Besides, they’ll be leaving shortly. You can wait a few minutes.”

“It’s time sensitive,” Eris replies smoothly, neither having broken the eye contact.

“You can wait a few minutes,” Lucien repeats.

Silence stretches, Eris’ brows narrowing ever so slightly in a frighteningly scathing glare that would have sent him sprinting to his room a few centuries ago. But he’s a grown male now, so he weathers the simmering look, keeping his feet firmly set on the ground, unfaltering in his stance.

Within the silence, both can pick out the shuffle of human footfalls, the conversation that floats throughout the house, only detectable to fae hearing and each brother picks out as they trail further. It’s not until a latch clicks and a bolt is slid into place on the other side of the slightly wrecked estate that either of them shifts, and to Lucien’s invisible astonishment it’s Eris who looks away first. Even if it is to glance at the approaching Vassa over his shoulder, he notes it.

“What’s he doing here?” Vassa questions, a derisive sneer in her tone as she pins the male darkening their doorstep with a look that could turn steak to coal in seconds. Lucien glances to Eris, wondering the same thing—wondering if he’ll answer now the humans have left and he’ll inevitably be allowed in. Sharp amber eyes slice to his own russet one, cutting and demanding, and Lucien bites back a sigh at his oldest brother’s incessant insistence on being obeyed. Even after all these years he’s just as controlling as he always was, though Lucien shouldn’t be surprised—Eris practically thrives in the cutthroat coliseum of the Autumn Court.

Lucien steps aside in the doorway and Eris enters, bringing with him the harsh bite of the cold that’s sharper than it should be in the human lands. The distinct crispness that passes him as Eris strides past the both of them, removing his surprisingly plain cloak in one swift movement and chucking it over one of the hangers without looking. “I have news,” Eris replies vaguely, before striding further into the heart of the house and disappearing out of sight.

Vassa shoots a fierce glare his direction, a slight scowl between her brows. “Did you know he was on his way?” She asks, already looking about ready to try smacking the male across the jaw. But Lucien shakes his head, already resigned to the evening being ruined, knowing her impatience isn’t directed at him. “I’m sober, aren’t I?” He replies wryly, a twist of a demeaning smile on his mouth to cool her flammable temper.

After a long moment of pause, she huffs a laugh, low and raspy, some of the tension relieved from her rigid posture, fiery coloured ringlets jostled slightly from the tremble in her full shoulders. “We’d better go after him,” she says, a little more amused than she was previously, though that amusement dims swiftly at the thought of having to deal with more of the male’s unnecessary and underhanded jabs. Lucien nods, sighing once more before steeling himself, knowing he will inevitably end up in the position of mediator as he always does when people lose their calm, following after her.

“And just when the cards were finally about to come out,” she mutters under her breath, and Lucien can practically see the scowl that has already worked itself back between her fiery brows, “I was looking forward to wiping the floor with Jurian.”

The comment has his nostrils flaring delicately as mirth curves his mouth, lips twitching faintly. Between the three of them, Vassa is almost constantly on a losing streak, while Jurian frequently takes them for all they’re worth. He supposes it shouldn’t be as surprising as it is—Jurian’s mortality is debatable at best, an unverifiable grey area at worst.

“Maybe we can fit in a few rounds after,” Lucien suggests as they make their way through the hallways, headed to the sitting room where the meetings most frequently take place. “The mood will probably be in need of some friendly competition.”

“Friendly?” Vassa repeats sardonically, pausing just outside the door to the living room. “Those games are nothing short of bloodthirsty. Treating them so lightheartedly is why you never win.”

Lucien refrains from reminding her that she has yet to go on a single winning streak against either of them.

————

You shift uneasily in your seat, pulling the silk of the scarf a little tighter, making sure no patchy flesh will slip out from beneath the fine covering. Especially not over a meal.

The comment springs to the forefront of your mind, rising like the sediment that’s stirred up upon a stone being dropped into the murky bottom of a lake. You know you’ll never be first choice. You’ll never have someone who’d choose you over everyone else, and if you’re honest with yourself it wouldn’t be that bad. You’ve survived this long without being someone’s first choice, so what’s changed?

What’s changed?

A cold feels skates delicately beneath your speckled flesh at the imposing question, impossibly vast and inconceivably nuanced. So much has changed in the past two years it would be unreasonable to try and tackle it now, without even a paper and pen to aid you in the coherency of your thoughts. But maybe it’s a place to start—some small ideas to help take those opening steps, like how freshly born deer totter around on their delicate hooves, on thin, gangly legs before learning to leap and bound.

So, you ask yourself again: What’s changed?

Had it bothered you before that you weren’t first choice? Had you known you weren’t anyone’s first choice—yes, somewhere, but you hadn’t figured it out yet. Perhaps that’s why the comment stung, that you were robbed of making the discovery yourself, red-painted nails having clawed over the stone, carving scratches into the previously smooth surface, permanently tarnished and disheveled.

No, thinking back, you’ve been first choice before. When you were eight, nine-ish, when you’d run down and about in the garden with Feyre who at that point couldn’t keep up with you yet. When you’d leap over tree stumps and balance on fallen trunks, sticking your arms out unevenly and watching with a strange sense of pride as Feyre doddered behind you, mimicking your stance and holding her own arms out as she made the trek over the mossy trunk.

Then you’d gotten older, and left Feyre to play in the gardens, in the forest, by herself. Then you’d become closer with Elain a bit before your teens, the two of you often joined at the hip at parties, Nesta bearing down on the few who tried to approach, warding off any unwanted company with her fearsome countenance. You think you’d been one another’s choices then, when your mother would dress you up in complimentary fabrics, selecting patterns that would work well with one another, with little regard for the young girls she was dressing up—her own daughters.

You like to think it had been you and Elain sticking together, in those last few years when your mother was around.

That’s what’s changed.

You’re surrounded by people who have found one another.

And now your loneliness is starker than ever, yet you hadn’t even really realised it. How Feyre has Rhys and Nyx, Nesta has found Cassian, and even Elain is finding her way with Lucien. They’re the closest you’ve ever been with other people, and the closest you’ll get to other people. But they’ve all found someone else now, and you’re the odd one out. Of course you’d be the one without a mating bond, or whatever the special connection is that they were all afforded.

You’re reminded of the confession you’d let slip in the midst of your fumbling mouth back in the library all that time ago. How you’d thought maybe…possibly there was a reason you’d felt a click with him. But you suppose you should have known better. You can’t even pretend that he was leading you on, in hindsight. It was obvious he was interested in Elain, and yet you’d thought… How stupid. And to tell him, too. To want something so sacred to them, and to wish it between yourself and him. All from wanting to be first.

It shouldn’t matter to not be first, and yet it’s starkly painful. You can’t help but want that place. Wanted it so desperately you’d fooled yourself into seeing interest when in reality there was, just none for you.

Your eyes traitorously stray from the small details on the rim of your porcelain plate—tiny ink drops of blue, red, and orange dotted about the edge—to the empty seat to your left, at one head of the table.

Why had you ever made the mistake of opening up to him? Hoping for a gentle touch when your body feels like it was hewn from the most unloveable stone. The most unforgiving rock, and the coldest ice. So cold it would peel skin from flesh, so harsh it would be impossible to touch, so utterly unbearable there would be no choice but to remain alone.

“Will you pass the potatoes?”

You’re drawn from your spiralling thoughts by the golden voice, meeting twinkling amber eyes as Mor watches you with a familiar expression. Warm and welcoming despite how you’d last seen one another.

Swallowing, you nod. “Yeah, sure,” you reply as normally as you can, hand clutching the orange silk of your scarf to keep the material from sliding up as you carefully grip the lip of the ceramic bowl, passing it to her open hand. “Thank you,” Mor smiles, and you blink before remembering to retract your hand. She seems as she was before…back to the female you’d known her as. Is this…does it mean she’s accepted your apology? She’d seemed convinced of what she had told you, so you can’t quite trick yourself into believing that. But maybe civility?

Right, you can understand it now. No matter how upset or hurt she might feel, she must not want to make it other people’s problem. Causing a scene over a dinner, one of the rare moments everyone’s together—most of you, anyway—isn’t worth it. No matter how your relationship might have soured, there’s no need to make the people around you miserable, too.

Amber eyes gleam beneath the warm light, and you feel as though you can come to an agreement—one you’re ready to accept. You can both silently agree not to make it an issue for anyone else, a small kernel of warmth daring to flicker to life in your chest, the sense of connection that comes from mutual understanding despite a disagreement. For everyone else’s sake, the two of you can put everything aside. Even if it might only be temporary.

“I like your scarf,” Mor says lightly, scooping the jagged, crispy roast potatoes onto the side of her plate, setting the bowl down in a spare space, “it suits you.”

Again, you blink, caught off guard. You swallow thickly, managing a nod of your head, chest swelling as you eagerly take on the compliment, content to pretend even if it’s only for an hour or two. “Thank you,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, “I love your necklace.” Which is true, though in honesty it wouldn’t be difficult to find something compliment-worthy about her. She’s beautiful.

Mor hums, glancing to another bowl, before settling on the reasonably sized boat of sauce, creating a small pool at the edge of her plate. You’re a little too occupied with watching Mor to notice the wary glance sent her way by Amren, or the warning one delivered from the High Lord himself. The tiny flicker of hope that maybe things could be patched up blocking out the rest of the picture as you gaze longingly at the female diagonal from you.

“I suppose with the autumn chill in the air yours is a little more practical than some flimsy jewellery,” Mor replies lightly, plucking a cut of bread from the wooden board, drawing the butter closer to slather the fluffy and crusty slice. “Where did you find it? I should fetch one for myself.”

“I’m sure you have more than enough scarves, Mor,” Rhys interjects smoothly, the serrated blade of his knife slicing effortlessly through the sinew of meat, slowly dissected into politely bite-sized pieces. “Any more and you’ll struggle to shut your wardrobe properly.”

Mor smiles icily, meeting his gaze with a cold look on her beautiful face. “Just stocking up before we have our eastern visitors.”

Tension crackles across the table, so acute even you realise something strange is happening, watching nervously, and feeling somehow responsible for the perceived fallout. Eastern visitors…? People from the continent? Eastern…eastern…oh. Feyre had mentioned briefly the deal that had been struck between the High Lord and the Lord that reigns over his Court of Nightmares—Mor’s father. The permitted invasion of her safe haven. The slight fissure that had been opened raw between them—one you’d forgotten about, and had assumed had been fixed.

“How is—” You fumble when Mor’s sharp eyes cut into you, caught off guard by the fierceness held within them. “…How is he?” You manage to ask, unsure whether you should even be interfering or whether you’re just putting your foot in it. Your hands shake under the table, heart pounding but you keep from shifting in your seat.

“Who?” Mor asks blandly, ignoring the sharp glare Amren’s pinning her with. Disregarding the hard look on Rhys’ face, slight disappointment. Possibly wholly unaware of the grip Feyre has on her cutlery, head cast downward, brows pulled together. Your throat rolls, not wanting to say his name.

It would be wrong.

“Who else?” Nesta asks from across the table, her voice singing with the clean cut of steel as it slices through a silk ribbon, a whisper of anger hissing beneath her tone. Sharp amber eyes clash with cool silver, glinting like mercury and ice in spite of the oranges and yellows filling the room to give the allusion of warmth and familiarity. Tension simmers just below the surface, crackling like a metal weather vane struck by lightening, sizzling with barely restrained power.

“Azriel,” you say quietly, hurrying through his name in less than a breath, feeling it brand your tongue, tingling at the roof of your mouth. Dispersing some of the charge. “How is he?”

Amber and silver eyes remain locked for a little while longer, a pause stretching across the table and even to fae hearing there’s hardly a sound being made save for the strain of metal as knuckles strangle and warp the handles of fine cutlery.

At last Mor looks away, dragging her gaze back to your own, the fire dimmed and smothered.

“Well enough to be drinking again,” she answers, and that seems to be the end of the conversation.

————

It’s a little difficult to dry the plates off with the scarf tied at your front, hiding your arms, but you manage.

A cluster of small, iridescent bubbles float past your nose, wafting by, and Elain laughs as you step back suddenly in surprise, having been zoned out.

There’s no need to be washing up anymore, not with the aids of magic, and if you’re honest you aren’t entirely sure how the two of you had ended up coming to the same wordless agreement, but here you are. Elain’s at the sink, bubbles frothy and foamy as she scrubs at the crockery and cutlery before depositing them on the side for you to dry with a towel. You don’t think the soapiness would agree with your skin.

The quiet settles between you, comfortable and without strain, two people sharing a space, and the apprehension you’d had before the dinner begins to slowly mellow, ice thawing out over a chilly night.

Despite the slightly rough start, the night had progressed surprisingly smoothly, with you content to sit quietly while the others discussed various matters: Amren’s recreational studying of the Old Language; Nesta’s progression with swordplay, having begun wielding ataraxia during training; a discussion lead by Rhysand about wards that you’d partially tuned out, thinking of the crater you’d blasted through the House of Wind—at least it sounds like something that can be fixed. They aren’t permanently broken, just temporarily disabled.

“Feyre’s birthday is coming up,” Elain says, seemingly out of nowhere, and you glance at her questioningly, humming in acknowledgement. “What are you thinking of getting her?” You ask, curiously content to follow along this path and see where she takes it. Elain sighs faintly, “I was thinking of making some herbal teas, actually…not many, but a few different ones to see if any help with stress, or sleeping, or the like. Generic benefits.”

You nod your head slightly—it’s a thoughtful gift, bespoke and personal, too. She’s always good with presents.

“You?” Elain asks, glancing at you lightly, speaking only loud enough to top the gentle babbling of water and splashing of suds. You glance down at the stack of dried plates, reaching for the wet cutlery to start on. “I haven’t thought of anything yet,” you answer honestly, considering, “it’s still a couple of months away, so I guess I hadn’t started thinking about it yet.”

Elain’s quiet for a bit, and you get the sense she has something to say but is unsure how to bring it up. You wait patiently, preoccupying yourself with the cutlery, careful not to accidentally carve a chunk of flesh from the heel of your palm.

“I think…Feyre would like to do something with all of us,” she says quietly, a little absently. “Perhaps not on the actual day, but sometime nearby.”

“She would?” You ask, slightly surprised. Elain doesn’t meet your gaze this time, continuing to focus on washing up, giving her hands something to do, and you copy her after a moment, carrying on with the drying up. “She hasn’t said anything explicitly, but it’s the impression I’ve gotten,” Elain says faintly, then pauses again. “I think…I think it would be nice, too.”

There’s a tremor in her fingertips, but she pushes them below the warm water, out of sight as if reaching for a fork or spoon beneath the frothy surface.

“Particularly, after…” Her throat closes up, and you hesitantly reach out, gloves temporarily discarded while drying, bare fingers grazing the soft skin of her forearms, unable to feel the gentle tickle of tiny hairs anymore. “I’m sorry…” you murmur uselessly, watching helplessly as a droplet falls from her eye, splashing through into the dishwater below. But Elain shakes her head, hands raising from the water to continue moving, absently washing the last plate from the dinner.

“I’d like to see more of you, too,” Elain says, swallowing thickly as she scrubs at the gleaming porcelain, clearing her throat. “So would Nesta. I think we’ve all been a bit distant lately, with one another I mean, and with Feyre having Nyx, and Nesta off in Day… We should spend more time together, and see each other more often, and speak more, just in general. And then there’s also Starfall, and we can see each other then, and celebrate, and—”

“Elain, Starfall’s months away,” you say gently, fingers shifting so they’re lightly gripping her wrist, pausing her motions, pulling her eyes to lock with your own. Wider than they should be.

You look at one another, watching silently, and you can feel the flutter of her pulse beneath your fingertips, erratic enough for even your own damaged hands to pick up on.

“You’ll be there, won’t you?” She whispers, eyes hot and wet.

You blink, grasping the heaviness of the question, then nod, unable to make your throat work, lower lip trembling a bit. “I’ll be there,” you manage to get out, feeling the familiar pressure behind your eyes.

She nods back, before finally handing over that last plate that has been clean for a while, but between the soapiness of the dishwater, and the trembling of both your hands, the plate slips, and smashes on the floor. The pale fragments split and shatter, spraying across the cold tiles, and both of you jump at the startling noise, before looking at each other again, and laughing. Gasping, ragged breaths that have both of you leaning for support, tears welling in eyes as each of you are split between crying from desperate, manic humour, and dreadful, fearsome sadness.

Neither of you can find it in yourselves to care about the shattered porcelain, the jagged fragments with blue, red, and orange ink drops dotted around the utterly broken rim of the plate.

“I…I need to find something…to clean that up,” you gasp through laughter, wiping away the tears. Elain just nods, still heaving ragged breath into her lungs, eyes squeezed shut, ringlets of hair jostling with each shudder of mirth as she grips the edge of the sink, expression torn between sobbing laughter and wrecking grief, and you don’t think you can stand to be in the same room for much longer, subject to the violent turbulence.

The light from the kitchen dims but your eyes adjust swiftly as you walk unevenly out into the dark hallway, rounding the corner to go look for a brush, or duster of some kind, even a cloth or a rag would do—

Both of you freeze as you round the corner to see one another, Mor’s figure losing its rigidity much more swiftly compared to your own that will remain locked up for the following few minutes.

You swallow thickly, eyes wide as you take her in: the dimmed gold of her lustrous hair; the bare expanse of her elegant neck; the tray held in her red-tipped hands, those long, slightly rounded nails gleaming a deep rouge. “Mor,” you greet, a touch quieter than usual, “I didn’t see you there.”

“Nor I, you,” she replies, watching you. A beat passes, and you swallow again, eyes flicking down to the tray in her hands. “Azriel’s?” You ask through the tightness in your throat, gently probing to see if she’s open to a conversation. You’ll leave, if she’s unresponsive—you know now what it’s like to be on either end of this strange dynamic. Mor nods her head once, still watching you silently, and you look elsewhere. Then nod your own head. “Nice seeing you,” you say quietly, then move to walk around her.

“Wait,” Mor whispers at the last second, holding the tray in one hand and gripping your wrist with the other. You recoil sharply when her fingers squeeze your arm, and her hold lightens significantly, but she doesn’t immediately let go, digits stuttering away a second later. “Sorry,” she murmurs, stepping back by half a pace. “It’s okay,” you reply hastily, looking away as you pull your hand back to your body, “you didn’t know.”

The words hang between you, and silence stretches in the relative darkness of the corridor.

When you manage to raise your gaze to glance at her, you nearly regret the choice—she’s making no effort to conceal the fierce defence in her sharp amber eyes. You’re about to turn to try and leave again though, when she speaks, and the tremor in her voice is pronounced enough to root you to the spot.

“Tell me why you went to Eris.”

————

The expression that was on the commander’s face had been enough to set the two of them on edge, Jurian offering Eris one of those slow but rare, slightly insane half-smiles he can make, that often has the spiralling effect distinctive to falling down through a nightmare on whoever’s unlucky enough to have it turned on them. It doesn’t come out often, but that it’s made an appearance this evening is a dark sign, and Lucien silently prays he will not be forced into a position where he will have to default to Eris’s defence in attempts to calm the potential ire that could catch in either of his human comrades.

The day has proven to be tricky enough on its own—none of them need this added abrasion.

Vassa strides across the room, taking up in the seat closest to the crackling hearth, the flame making her hair blaze brighter than natural, her already sharp eyes glinting in the firelight.

It seems he’s the only one actively trying to avoid the conflict that’s brewing in the air, the other two appearing ready and more than content to fight fire with fire. He knows there’s no use explaining the redundancy of wielding that tactic against the male across from the human queen, with fire burning in his very blood.

“You said you had news,” Vassa demands, charging straight to the point before Lucien’s even had a chance to seat himself on the other end of the sofa, opposite from Jurian. Between his chosen family and his blood-given one. But Eris won’t be rushed, and instead turns his attention to his youngest brother, the fire doing nothing to thaw the cool ice in his amber eyes. “How is your mate, Lucien?”

Lucien allows himself the space of a blink to recompose himself, vaguely trying to hide his suspicion. It’s never good when he can’t see the end Eris is pursuing, but he’s used to being left in the dark when it comes to the male’s schemes—he just can’t help the instinctive aggression that prickles up the back of his neck at Elain being brought into this.

“You aren’t one for idle chatter,” Lucien replies, calming the flame that had begun sizzling in his blood, “why don’t we skip ahead and get straight to the point, as this is such a time sensitive matter?” A sinister gleam appears in his oldest brother’s eyes, and he braces himself for whatever whip is about to lash into his skin. “Very well,” Eris says instead, leaning back into his chair, practically sprawling across it, dominating the space he takes up in his typically uncaring, arrogant fashion. But then the air shifts, his expression becoming serious. “How well-informed is your mate of Night Court affairs?”

“Enough with this evasive subterfuge. What news do you bring?” Vassa demands harshly, Jurian seemingly agreeing with her anticipation to have the male rid of as soon as possible, a disagreeable look simmering in his rough features. But Lucien levels his brother with an evaluating glance, mechanical eye whirring faintly against the dim heat of the fire. “We each have our distances,” Lucien replies evenly, yielding a vague answer. He’s getting the distinct feeling something large has happened, or is about to. Maybe even happening as they speak—slabs of rock knocking into one another, having already been pushed into motion.

Does this have anything to do with Elain’s visit being postponed? She had been supposed to arrive two days ago, but had had to change their meeting to a later date as she’d had a family matter to oversee. Lucien hadn’t tried to pry.

“But you’re aware that Nesta Archeron and the General took a vacation to the Day Court?” Eris questions, and again Lucien has the distinct sense he’s missing a piece of the puzzle. A very big, very crucial piece of the puzzle.

He nods, and braces himself.

Though even foresight wouldn’t have been enough to prepare him for the news Eris had brought.

A warning that shook him to his fae bones.

————

You swallow thickly, frozen stiff as her truthful eyes bore into you.

You open your mouth, lips ajar, but your throat is much too tight to release any sort of sound.

Mor doesn’t shift, holding your gaze with a steadiness and conviction you can’t look away from, bound to her by an invisible tether that’s keeping you from hiding or running how you’d like to. “Surely you know…” she whispers, taking in a shallow breath, her lashes fluttering with an almost imperceptible shudder. “Surely you know what he did to me.”

You give a faint nod of your head.

Her amber eyes sharpen, and your stomach clenches beneath the look. “So explain yourself,” she utters lowly. “Don’t leave it up to me to pry the answers from you.”

A seed of fear plants itself in your throat, something cool and slimy rinsing gently down your spine and you’re worried sweat is dripping down your ribs, rolling in salty droplets down the soft inside of your arms where the skin hasn’t yet grown dehydrated and flaky. Fingers tighten absently on the silk of the orange scarf banding around your upper body, tugging at the folds to try and hide the tremor of adrenaline that’s filtered into your bloodstream.

You swallow thickly, but your throat won’t clear, and you realise that’s because there’s nothing there—no matter how much it feels the opposite.

“I didn’t…” you clear your throat again. Rip your gaze away. “I didn’t want to disappoint any of you,” you force yourself to answer, voice catching at the pitiful excuse.

Mor’s silent.

Silent for long enough you nervously look at her.

You flinch internally at the expression of horror on her features, shoulders bunching with shame as your brows curve, silently begging for a reply, and not this awful quiet that’s slowly gutting you.

“You chose…” she swallows past a lump in her throat, and her scent has shifted but you can’t understand what it means, the minute changes that occur within fae bodies. “You willingly went to him? He didn’t even have to try and persuade you?”

“Mor it wasn’t like that,” you try to clarify hurriedly. “I just—…I just thought it would be—”

“Easier?”

“No! I just thought it would— I don’t know… It would’t cause trouble! I just wanted to do it by myself so I wouldn’t have to bother any of you!”

“Wouldn’t cause trouble?” Mor repeats incredulously, a look of disbelief on her features, like she can’t grasp what you’re saying. “We were ready to help,” Mor bites back sharply, “all you had to do was ask for it. You could have spoken to Feyre, or any of your sisters about your magic. Any of us. You could have come to me, even—but you went to Eris.” Her voice is taut, rife with anger and hurt, but even in the dim light there’s a faint shine in her eyes, belying their wetness. “What made you think that we weren’t enough?”

“I didn’t want to bother you!” You say back, matching her volume.

“We’re your family! You’re supposed to bother us!”

You take a small step back, fighting the humiliating wobble of your lip before you shake your head, fingertips tingling. “No. You’re— You’re Feyre’s family.”

“Feyre’s your sister,” Mor emphasises, knuckles pushing up from beneath the smooth softness of her skin, pronounced from her bone-white grip on the tray that’s beginning to splinter. “Or is she no longer part of your family either? It seems the only person you even bother to speak to is Elain nowadays. Her and Azriel, anyway.”

“And what does that matter?” You bite back, hands itching. “What does it matter if I only speak to Elain? Would you prefer I start speaking to you, Mor?”

“Why not?” She nearly spits, energy being drawn out from the cave where she’d tried to smother it over dinner. “Why not?” You repeat, neither of you completely aware of how your voices are beginning to rise incrementally, ignoring or oblivious to the faint, sickly green light that definitely isn’t coming from the kitchen. “You’d like me to speak with you when this is the kind of conversation we’re having? You want me to be emotional, or vulnerable with you, or ask you for help when you shut me out the moment I do something wrong? When I fail?”

“I might have shut you out but you didn’t even open up. Didn’t even give us a chance in the first place, don’t pretend otherwise,” Mor spits back. “If you can’t understand the pain you caused me, fine. I can’t help it if you won’t allow yourself to think of us as family. But what about your actual family? What about them?”

“Don’t you dare try and talk to me about my own family Mor,” you grit out, nails digging into the flaky skin of your palms, heart pounding in your chest. “Haven’t you pried enough?”

“Did you even think to consider how it would make them feel?” Mor jabs, barrelling ahead. “Can you grasp how hurt Feyre was that you didn’t go to her? Three sisters, and you decided that none of them were good enough? Just because you aren’t their first choice doesn’t mean they can’t be—”

“Mor.”

Utter silence falls throughout the hallway at the barely restrained interruption.

Both of you freeze at the sound of the third voice, filled with hissing winds and rasping shadow. Managing to stay calm despite the tempest in her blue-grey eyes.

Before you, Mor blinks, and you’re unsure if you imagine the way colour drains from her features, still watching you. Further unsure if the faint green light was smothered of its own accord or the dark shadows that seem to be heavier now Feyre has appeared. Now the Cursebreaker has entered.

Mor turns on her heel, shifting to meet Feyre’s eyes, but quiet stretches between them, and you get the impression a conversation is being had, though not through daemati powers. A single lock of golden hair shifts over Mor’s shoulder, falling out of place, though you can no longer see her expression. And then she nods. Just once, hardly perceptible, even to fae eyes, and you watch with a still pounding heart as the tray vanishes from her hands a second later, heels clicking softly across the floorboards as she wordlessly takes her exit, leaving you and…Feyre, alone in the hallway.

You shift anxiously on your feet, swallowing thickly.

“How much of that did you hear?” You ask quietly, looking away again, all the fight drained from you after the brief altercation. You’re entirely unaccustomed with those open arguments, haven’t had one since—well, since that last one with Feyre, that had the sound ward placed on your room.

Feyre watches you, the previous storm quietened, but her eyes aren’t sparkling as usual. Instead she looks drained. Drained, and tired, and a little wary. “Enough,” she answers.

You shift again, a little begrudging she saw fit to interrupt, like you needed her to intervene. “It was fine, you know…”

Feyre’s quiet, and you’re unsure if she’s angry. Angry at you for speaking to Mor that way. Angry at you for speaking so loudly when Nyx is probably asleep. Angry at you for not speaking to her first. Angry at you for the long, long list of reasons she should have by now.

“It did hurt,” she says quietly, and you raise your gaze to meet her own, “that you thought you couldn’t come to us. To me.”

Your lips purse, and you look away.

“I was upset with your choice. Disappointed a little. Confused,” she continues in that quiet whisper that could carry with ease across a cavernous hall. “But what Mor said wasn’t true. Not in the way she phrased it.”

“Feyre, it’s fine,” you say softly. “You don’t need to—”

“Mor knows that’s not true either.”

Your lips purse again, that quiet stretching between you.

You want to disintegrate on the spot.

Fabric rustles slightly, and it’s the only clue you have to Feyre shifting. Then, “it’s late,” she says, moving away from the open wound of a topic. “We should talk more about this in the morning. When Madja comes round too.” She nods her head toward the corridor, but you look at her a little apologetically. “I was supposed to find Elain a brush,” you say, feeling embarrassed, “we broke a plate.”

“The kitchen will clear it up,” Feyre replies, leaving no room for you to skate back to your older sister.

So you end up walking with her back to your room.

It’s dark out, and you can’t help but look forward to settling into bed, even if it hurts sometimes to roll over beneath the covers. That it hurts sometimes to lie on your sides, when your arms press into the sheets, with your weight resting atop them. At least you’re beginning to get used to it, the pain much more tolerable now, despite it having not decreased.

You’ve both reached the top of the stairs, turning down the hallway that will lead to your bedroom, walking close enough together to make up for the fact your arms aren’t linked—Feyre guessing correctly it would probably hurt—when Feyre speaks. “Are Eris and Azriel the only other people who’ve felt your magic before?” She asks tentatively into the darkness of the house, seemingly having cooled off now you’re further from the spot of altercation.

“Yes, I think so,” you answer in an equally soft voice.

“Have either of them every commented on what it feels like?” She asks, and you’re aware how she’s keeping her gaze ahead. You move your eyes to look in the same direction, spotting your bedroom door on the right not far ahead. “Not that I can think of,” you reply, before adding, “though it’s never been…going, for as long as that.”

Feyre’s silent, and you glance at her through the shadows, wondering what she’s thinking. You can’t read her expression, so resume your looking ahead.

“When I was in autumn, though,” you begin hesitantly, hardly louder than a whisper, worrying who might overhear the unpleasant reference, “my magic almost…I don’t know…burst? It came through me very suddenly, and forcefully.” You recall the frighteningly large creature that had charged at you while in the woods, how your magic had melted the skin from its flesh. “We were both sick afterwards.”

“Azriel was sick a lot when he first woke up,” Feyre says faintly, and your stomach clenches with guilt.

You try to swallow past it, but it seems to remain lodged in your throat, unpleasantly settling in your stomach heavily enough you’re thankful when you reach your door, the evening nearly over with.

“Why did you ask, by the way?” You question before slipping away into your room, paused over the threshold.

Feyre glances at you, turned to leave but stopping. “Your magic…I could feel it in the hallway,” she answers, a wary note creeping into her voice.

She seems disinclined to give anything else, so you again shift awkwardly in the doorway, before gathering the gut to ask, “how did it feel?”

Something passes behind her blue-grey eyes, shuttering briefly as they close, before reopening. “Like I was dying again,” she answers quietly.

You stare at her silently, the threshold of your room between you, the silence heavier than it was before. You don’t even know what to say to that.

She doesn’t give you the time to think of a reply, however, as she releases a sigh. Her throat rolls as she meets your eyes. “Sleep well,” she says, and you catch as her attention dips to your hands, like she wants to take them, to hold them.

But she doesn’t, instead looking back at you again, throat rolling for the second time.

“I love you,” she says hoarsely, speaking those words that are so sparsely exchanged between the four of you.

You stiffen, emotion of a different kind tightening your throat, and you nod faintly.

“I love you, too. Sleep well.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @fae-glamour-petrichorus @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #multi part fic #azriel x you #cbmthy #cbmthy chapter 18 #can’t bring myself to hate you

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regexkind · 28 days ago

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As my childhood reached its autumn and came to an end, the winter storm of pubescence came crashing down upon me like a tree through the roof of a rustic cabin. Fortunately the cabin in this case can be said to represent only my good sense, and not, as is perhaps more common, my good looks.

This may be most acutely demonstrated by my choice of magnum opus for my boarding school's oil painting final—a choice which has haunted me to this day. I worked obsessively and secretly for weeks. The glory and subtlety of my muse could not be despoiled by some philistine's gaze. For this reason I elected to frame my work with heavy curtains.

I became obsessive as to the particulars of my subject matter. No detail was too small. I learned to paint folds of fabric like a Renaissance master, I studied early 19th-century wigs and hairstyles, I sent away to a (better-equipped) institute¹ for a book on military buttons. I made dozens of preparatory sketches. Finally, The Day Of The Great Unveiling was upon me.

When, with a dramatic flourish, I yanked back the curtain, I was greeted, not as I expected—not as I had hoped—not as I should have been—not with cries of delight, but with gasps of horror and revulsion.

Before the assembled crowd of faculty, students, and parents, nearly life-sized, was a portrait of the emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, boldy astride the buttocks of the Duke of Wellington, who knelt on hands and knees beneath him. Napoleon stared straight ahead, his face alight with that mixture of severity and delight in conquest that suffuses his best portraits. The Duke's head was turned slightly towards the viewer, as if he were perhaps aware of their presence. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth ajar in an "Oh!" of surprise, but otherwise, he was virtually the same as in Lawrence's portrait.

Now, one might assume the cabin of my reason to be completely crushed, but I had exercised certain discretion in the portrayal of my subjects. Both were fully clothed, even unto tricorn hat. I had neglected only breeches, but this omission was hardly remarkable, let alone obscene, due to the length of the then-fashionable frock coats². Only a tiny triangle of flesh was visible between top of garter and hem of coat. Despite this tasteful discretion, and implicit reference to centuries of symbolism in Western portraiture, my audience was, as previously stated, appalled.

I thought their horror could not be increased, until with incredulity, the art master read the title: "Napoleon Comes Again: The Emperor's Revenge". It goes almost without saying, that I was rapidly and unjustly expelled from the academy. My pater familias responded in kind, granting me the frankly miserly sum of fifty thousand pounds, on the condition that I never write to, speak to, or otherwise contact him or any member of my family.

All of this goes to explain how I find myself penniless in this desolate town on the Western edge of Montana. Brother, can you spare me a dime?

¹Perhaps they would have appreciated me. Perhaps all this could've been averted.

²See! See! I told you I did my research

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mistriavalley · 2 months ago

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The storm behind your eyes (Sebastian x reader)

Note: It's the first time I've written smut on English so I rlly hope this turned out at least decent lmao

TW: 18+ smut MDNI, fingering, reader has a vagina, no protection, exhibitionism, mentions of smoking and cigarettes, slight angst

Masterlist

It was one of those dark days in summer when the rain pattered loudly against the windows and the thunder exploded deafeningly over the roofs. Fortunately, this didn't bother your farm animals too much. They were accustomed to the valley's unpredictable weather.

But it was strange to stay at home at times like this. Normally, you spent the whole day outside, running around Pelican Town like a headless chicken, trying to get all your tasks done as quickly as possible. Your fingertips were tingling with an urge for action and you tigered back and forth through your house.

There was one person in the village who was always out and about in such piss weather though. While the streets were empty, Sebastian took advantage of the solitude and went out for some fresh air.

I wonder if he went out to the beach in this storm?

But not even he was that crazy. Then you remembered that usually, when thunder and lightning came together to create a dance of chaos and destruction in the sky, he smoked a pack of cigarettes under a tree near the mountain lake. Yes. How very smart of him.

You threw a raincoat over your shoulders and hid your face deep inside the hood. Through the mud, you struggle up the hill and stumble past Robin's house. The warm light from the lamps inside shone through the glass of the windows and illuminated the path before you. You dared to take a peek inside.

There they sat around the table. Robin, Demitrius and Maru were all smiles and giggles. It was nothing new to see them without Sebastian, but it still filled you with a deep sadness. You were very much aware of how excluded he felt from his family and it never seemed like any of them were even attempting to try and close the gap between them.

Maru was an exception though. You have caught her several times staring at Sebastian during festivals as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to approach him. And of course you didn't miss how she calls him her brother while he always made sure to emphasize the word "half" when he referred to her as his half-sister.

You continued walking towards the lake and took shelter under the thick branches of a pine tree. Funny. This was actually Sebastian's quiet little spot when he contemplated the meaning of life while ruining his lungs. Sometimes you got the feeling that he was taking himself a little too seriously.

You turned on your own heels, your eyes searching for the all too familiar mop of black hair. After a few seconds, you spotted him on the complete opposite side and you fought your way through the wet dirt once again.

With only his hoodie as protection, he shielded his mouth with his hand as he desperately tried to keep the lighter's flame on. The wind combined with the rain was working successfully against the young man.

The way he flicked his thumb over the wheel of the lighter was frantic. That's when you noticed the deep crease between his dark eyebrows.

"Sebby?", you yelled over the rumble of the storm and he gave you a quick glance over his shoulder.

It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to know immediately that something was wrong with him. His eyes were darker than usual and it seemed as if the corners of his mouth had never pointed upwards once in his entire life.

You gently put your hand on his back and felt the tension in his muscles. Sighing, he lowered the lighter and put the cigarette back in the box. He was probably now aware that it was impossible to smoke in this shit weather.

Neither of you said a word for a long time. You knew that Sebastian sometimes took a while before he was ready to talk about his feelings when he was this down. While other people's moods hit rock bottom, he was the type to grab a shovel and dig the hole even deeper.

"I've come to terms with being the black sheep in my family. The mistake.", he said in a broken voice.

You nodded. Yes, that was usually the reason why he'd hide out here. He had confided in you a little later in your friendship that he had a difficult relationship with Demitrius and that was why he had kept his distance from Robin and Maru as well. However, only you and Sam knew about it and you had sworn to keep it to yourself.

Sebastian balled his hands into fists. His shoulders shook violently, as if he was crying, but not a single tear formed in his eyes. Afterwards it was as if a dam broke inside him and the words just came pouring out of him.

"Mom doesn't even seem to notice this shit or doesn't want to notice it! No matter what I do, it's not good enough for any of them, but Maru, on the other hand, could burn the whole fucking place down and they'd all just shrug with their shoulders."

Sebastian took a deep breath.

"But Yoba forbid I drop even a teaspoon! Demitrius is giving me a hard time while he rolls out the damn red carpet for his perfect little girl."

You reached for his hands and squeezed them comfortingly, a look of understanding on your face. He immediately relaxed and leaned his forehead against your shoulder, defeated.

"I hate everything.", he whispered into your neck. Your hair stood on end as his hot breath tickled your skin.

For a moment, you felt something like butterflies in your stomach and you silently scolded yourself. This really wasn't the time to think about your feelings for him. Not when he was in such a vulnerable state and needed a pillar.

"No, that's not true. You don't hate everything.", you said and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. When you said this, you were actually referring to Sam. His best friend.

But what Sebastian answered completely threw you for a loop and left you speechless.

"I don't hate you. Honestly, you're like a light in the darkness. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Heat rose to your face and you didn't know what to say. You decided the smartest move was to keep your mouth shut before you could fabricate something utterly embarrassing and then had to dig your own grave.

Sebastian touched your neck fleetingly with his lips. It made you shiver. Your body automatically inched closer to his. Your brain short-circuited and your instincts took over. Everything in you longed for him. You wanted more than just his mouth on your neck.

Images of his naked torso flashed past your inner eyes. Images of him slowly kissing his way down on you.

You gasped involuntarily and Sebastian turned towards your face. The distance between you was just big enough for a sheet of paper. For the first second, he just stared into your eyes. His expression was unreadable. Then the next second, his mouth crashed against yours in a heated kiss.

He kissed you like a diver catching his breath again after being submerged for far too long. He kissed you like a stranded man getting ahold of a glass of water for the first time in ages. Your body burned more with every passing moment.

"I want you. Please. I don't know if I can wait any longer." The pleading in his words was hard to ignore.

"Sebastian, you're not thinking clearly right now." Although part of you cursed yourself out for saying that, you were right. Sebastian was hurt. That's why he was acting like this now. It's not like he was genuinely interested in you.

He shook his head so violently that the rainwater in his hair flew around him.

"I've never thought as clearly in my life as I do now." To emphasize his words, he pressed another hungry kiss to your mouth.

Soon after, he grabbed you by the hand and together you ran through the storm towards the mines. It was chilly between the high stone walls, but the heat in your chest made it bearable.

Sebastian hastily pulled the hoodie over his head and spread it out on the ground. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks and he avoided your gaze.

"For you. I don't want to just take you on some dirty ground."

Granted, the mines weren't exactly the most romantic place for your first time together, but damn. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fantasized about sleeping with him outside the house at least once.

In fact, the idea had even plagued your dreams countless times. While you wrapped your arms around each other again, he carefully placed you on his sweater. Always making sure you didn't hit your head on the hard floor.

His soaked T-shirt stuck tightly to his torso and it took all four hands to somehow get it off. He looked so much better than you had imagined.

His warm hand found it's way under your own clothes and you felt a familiar warmth spread between your legs. The rest of your clothes were tossed carelessly into some dusty corner after a short while.

You arched your back to be as close to him as possible as he devoured you with his lips. His tongue playfully stroked your own and you rubbed your thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

Your mind raced and your heart pounded in your throat as the cave was filled with the sound of your gasps and moans. Then, finally, you felt Sebastian's finger at your entrance.

He slowly pushed in one. Shortly afterwards, the second followed and he moved them in a curling motion. After a few attempts, he found your g-spot and you threw your head back.

His hot breath hit your cheek as he showered your face with kisses. And as if he wasn't doing enough, he placed his thumb on your clit and massaged it in circles.

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and you saw nothing but stars. Where on earth had he learned these things?

But that was a question for another time. At that moment, it was simply impossible to grasp a clear thought. All you could focus on was Sebastian's fingers inside and on you.

Something in your stomach tightened in a pleasant way and you grabbed his face with both hands to pull him down for a kiss. You desperately tried to muffle your moans with his lips and tongue.

A short time later you came on his hand and your hips trembled. It took you quite a while to get off your high and when Sebastian pulled his fingers out of you, you winced. You were so sensitive that even the slightest touch made you jump.

A wide, proud grin spread across his handsome face as he looked at you. You didn't even want to begin to imagine what you looked like now, stretched out like a starfish and as sweaty as a marathon runner.

But there was nothing but affection in Sebastian's gaze. Affection and lust. His hard cock laid heavy on your stomach and your energy came rushing back to you.

You sit up and push him down onto his back. A surprised look formed on his features.

"What-", he started, but fell silent as you reached for his dick.

It was wide and veiny. Your wetness ran down the inside of your thigh and dripped onto his stomach. Precum leaked out of his tip and you leaned down to lick it up.

He let out a whimper. As you moved your hand slowly up and down his shaft, you positioned yourself over him and took the entire length in. He filled you to the brim and stretched you in a way that both hurt and felt wonderful.

Sebastian whimpered and gasped. He tensed up and looked like he was going through the fight of his life right now.

"Give me a second. Don't move or I'll-", he pleaded and grunted before he could finish his sentence.

Pride filled your chest. You had no idea about the effect you had on his man, but now you see it in it's whole glory. How hot and bothered he was and how much he was struggling to not come right then and there.

After what felt like an eternity, you started to move your hips up and down to test the waters. Everything inside you wanted to go faster, to ride this man until he was a screaming mess, but you felt merciful.

Then something inside Sebastian clicked and he grabbed you by the hips as he drilled into you. The wet slapping of skin against skin echoed off the high walls of the cave as he fucked you senseless.

Once again, you could think of nothing but Sebastian. You braced yourself against his torso with one hand while you frantically rubbed your clit with the other. You wanted to come with him.

His movements became sloppier and his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. He was so close and so were you. A wave of ecstasy crashed over your whole body and moments later his cock twitched violently inside of you. A warm liquid was filling you up to the point where you even moaned from the slight pressure.

For a brief moment you thought it would never end until his dick finally came to a complete rest. Sebastian, who looked like he had seen Yoba with his on two eyes just now, slid out of you.

You made yourself comfortable next to him on his hoodje while he wrapped his arms around you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I don't know why we didn't do this before.", he commented.

"When should we have done it? When I first introduced myself or what?"

"That would actually be a fantastic first impression."

You give him a slap on the chest, but he just laughs. You two lay there for a long time, listening to the falling raindrops.

"It's a good thing we did it in this thunderstorm. The adventurers and maybe even Linus would have heard us," he remarked.

"Oh my Yoba. You're right."

What escaped you, however, was the fact that a (now very traumatized) dwarf had his store only a few meters away from you guys.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley smut #sdv smut #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader

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yanxidarlings · 8 months ago

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YANDERE TWD

REUNITED (yandere! big brother! merle dixon x male reader x yandere! big brother daryl dixon) (yandere! gareth x male reader) (rick grimes x male reader if you squint) NOTES: fair warning, this is some descriptive disturbing shit merle dixon counts as a warning on his own as well. this went in many directions i originally set out for yandere headcanons for the two, then got into the terminus arc, and ended with some pretty vague alluding to yandere. might write a part two)

imagine obsessive! possessive! big brothers! merle and daryl dixon. the dead begin to walk and they keep the darlin safe, meeting up with the atlanta camp. but the brothers won't let anyone get close to the darlin, not dale, not carl, certainly not shane or lori.

somehow, the darlin ends up going with glenn into the city on a supply run, only for it to go horribly wrong. the darlin insisted they head into a chemist to "look for medications" in case anyone in the camp needed them. but it was a lie. the darlin just wanted to find something to help merle with the inevitable withdrawal he'd go through once his supply of drugs ran out. the chemist is overrun by walkers but the darlin insists. "we can clear it!" they say to glenn "it'll be worth it for m- everyone" the korean gave the other a skeptical look. in the end, there was just too many, glenn thought he saw the darlin go down and reluctantly returned to camp.

"oi! shitface, you think you're a big boy now? can do whatever you want now everything's gon' to shit!" the raspy, harsh voice of merle dixon echoed through the camp. the redneck tramped over to the SUV glenn was parking. he remained silent as he turned the engine off. taking a deep breath, the young man exited the car, staring at the grass.

the older dixon stormed over, aggressively opening every door of the vehicle until he reached the boot. filled with supplies. "where the fuck is m/n" he growled, coming closer to the asian "he better be pullin up in another car" merle spat out. "i- it was" glenn stuttered out, looking like he was about to piss his pants "it wasn't my fault, m/n was being reckless, i had no cho-" CRACK glenn's face was soon bloodied and bruised, merle now on top of him, yelling out profanities as he beat the younger man. "merle!" the others quickly ran to pull the redneck off glenn.

"you fucking ch*ng-ch*ng bastard i'll rip-" merle was pried off glenn, who was now rolling around in agony, his face a bloody mess. "what the fuck happen'd" merle rasped out, although to glenn it sounded like a croak "where is he" merle was still being held back by t-dog and shane as he continued yelling. glenn avoided the rednecks furious gaze "the walkers got him" he finally spoke, looking down.

for a moment it looked like merle was about to cry, for a moment merle himself thought he was going to burst into tears like a sissy. "no he ain't" but instead he picked up his shotgun, and got into the drivers seat of the SUV.

that was how andrea, t-dog, jackie, glenn and morales ended up in the city. that was how merle got handcuffed to a roof by "officer friendly" and that was why daryl yelled in agony on that same roof. in the course of a day, he had lost the two most important people in his life.

but merle had survived by cutting off his left hand, and the darlin had survived by covering himself in walker guts.

"china- no- glenn- don't- help!" the h/c-et screamed, the sound of his own gun firing defeaning his ears. as one went down, another lunged at him, rotten teeth clanking together, desperately trying to knaw into his flesh. but he wouldn't die here. he couldn't. not when merle was 'relying' on him to get drugs. maybe then, the dixons would start to treat him as less of a clueless child and more of an equal.

after taking down a few, m/n jumped behind the counter, rummaging through the medications, looking for anything that might help with the withdrawal, or better, give merle his next fix. more of the dead came at him, but he just kept shooting, stabbing, hitting, anything to cause the fatal damage needed to end the dead's miserable 'life'.

BANG one was down BANG another BANG BANG BANG .. the slide didn't move forward as he shot his way through another round. shit. he was out of ammo "glenn!" he yelled out as a walker fell on top of him, wrestling it's way closer to his skin. all the korean could hear was m/n's screaming. which only attracted more walkers. he saw the medicine that m/n had thrown over the counter before going down, stuffing it into his bag, he creeped up closer to the group of walkers that had acculumated, following the sound of m/n's scream. until it stopped. "m/n?" he uttered under his breath, but the pile of walkers on top of each other told him the other was dead. with tears in his eyes, glenn ran out.

m/n struggled against the strength of the walker. it was freshly turned, he could tell. otherwise it wouldn't be so strong. kicking, punching, reaching for his knife, anything to save himself from becoming one of them. plunging his blade into the side of the walkers head, he quickly slit the once-man's throat. covering his face in the blood. before moving down to the abdomen. cutting it open, letting the walkers rotting insides pour out all over him, the ones that had piled on top soon couldn't distinguish the smell of living flesh from rotting blood.

he went silent, breathing shallowly, hoping, praying, they'd move off him and he could silently slip out. but when he was finally free of the chemist, glenn, the supplies they had gathered, and the SUV were gone.

he walked the dead-ridden streets of the once bustling city, covered in blood, hidden in plain sight. he kept walking (which then turned into a limp after getting hit in the ankle by a flying bullet) becoming weaker with each step, hoping to make his way back to camp. only to come to the end of the trainline leading into suburban atlanta. TERMINUS the building read "those who arrive survive" he heard a feminine voice call out from the speakers. maybe they have gauze. he glanced down at his leg, the sleeve of his shirt he had tied around it now dyed red.

"community for all; sanctuary for all" he saw a young man- perhaps just a little older than m/n was, staring down at him from the window. something felt amiss, off, but m/n had lost so much blood he didn't care. he stumbled towards the train station, stopping and starting as he debated his decision.

daryl, merle.. they'll be wondering he thought to himself, stopping for the 5th time, but i won't make it back he began walking again but they'll be looking for me he stopped, nearly tripping but the sudden lack of motion if i found this place they'll find it too he picked up the pace again, frantically moving towards the gates but- as he stopped himself once more, he finally tripped over. right onto the walker trap the train people had set up. his left ribcage was pierced by the sharp metal pole sticking out of the ground, causing the h/c-et to let out a loud screech.

before he knew it people had come out, the same man that had stared at him through the window moments earlier put his hand on the wound, causing m/n to flinch "we're you trying to get yourself killed?" the man mused, seemingly unphased by the active bleeding out that was happening in front of him. the man spoke more words that were muffled as m/n fell out of consciousness.

it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. not a shred of light to allude to the location. pitch black. m/n's hands brushed her his torso, feeling the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his chest. it all came back to him. the chemist, the walkers, glenn, the train people. he shifted his arms, feeling the thin material he was lated on, and the cold metal it covered. attempting to hoist himself up, pain shot through his body.

letting out a groan, he laid back down, closing his eyes. is this death. it certainly felt like it. the nothingness, the pain, it was all he had ever imagined death to be like. what felt like hours passed, the nothingness was almost comforting, how long had it been since he could lay like this and do nothing with no worries. it was all ended when the creaking of the door signaled to m/n that he was not in-fact dead.

the sudden brightness was blinding "you awake?" a masculine voice spoke. m/n's eyes began burning from the light, "i guess" he replied quietly, his eyes closing. "good" the male put down a plate next to where m/n laid "eat up. i know this isn't the warmest welcome, i would have liked to show you around first" the man chuckled, leaning down, seemingly to get a good look at m/n.

the man- who introduced himself as gareth, began speaking about the community- terminus. that they did whatever they had to for survival, that m/n would have to prove himself loyal if he wanted to become apart of the community. he wasn't sure how to tell this gareth guy that he was leaving as soon as possible to find his group.

the discussion started off normal as m/n finished his food, until gareth started talking about how lonely he was, as the leader of this terminus community. it only got creepier as gareth started to call m/n pretty boy, edging closer to him. m/n doesn't want to know what would have happened if that middld aged lady (gareth's mother), hadn't called the man away.

it quickly became evident to m/n that he was never going to leave. gareth locked him in the pitch black train car for hours on end, opening the door when there were armed men to prevent m/n from trying anything. gareth would sit with him and talk, running his hands over the male's body, stealing kisses, it was a reprehensive routine m/n had become forcibly accustomed to.

it all changed the day the hunters attacked. m/n was in his train car, as usual, listening to the outside screams, wondering if the attackers were dead or alive. he knew they were alive when one pried open the train car door, and threw them self on him. he was then thrown into a cramped train car with other terminus residents, where the hunters hand picked who to assault and slaughter each day. he and gareth spent their days huddled up together, talking about their lives before. had m/n not accepted the hunters offer to leave the train car if he worked for them, gareth wouldn't have lost his mind. but m/n was desperate to get away. from the train car. from terminus. to find his family.

but the hunters caught him trying to leave. they did their absolute worst to him and then threw him back in. when the termites took back terminus, gareth locked the leader of the hunters and m/n into the same train car. "this is what you deserve" he told him, before locking the door shut.

perhaps it was years, perhaps it was months, maybe it was only a few hours. the horrors of the train car began to unfold, as the man who had once led the attack on terminus lost his mind: pouncing on m/n at random, screaming for hours straight, trying to eat m/n alive when they'd be deprived of food, ripping his ear off in hungered insanity. as m/n laid there bleeding from his ear, he decided either i escape or i die. had running worked before? no. was he willing to die trying? not really, but a man would do anything for freedom, and that's what m/n did.

the hunter had fallen asleep, a fatal mistake, as m/n wrapped his hands around the mans unshaven neck and squeezed. within second the man awoke but m/n was relentless, not letting go until the other went limp. i just have to wait now he cried to himself, hands shaking. calming, he began to strip the man of his clothes and use the fabric to restrain his limbs.

waiting for the termites to open the door with the meal made of human flesh felt like an eternity. the familiar sound of metal scratching and creaking filled m/n's ear, who quickly sprung into action.

grabbing the reanimated hunter by the hair, he guided it in the direction of the door, throwing it towards the woman holding their plates. she screeched as the hunters corpse sank it's teeth into her flesh, blood pouring from the wound.

m/n grabbed the woman's gun and bolted as the nearby workers aimed their guns at the walker, taking it down swiftly, but m/n had already gotten out of the train car. hiding behind what once was his cage, he shot at every person who came into view. eventually making his way to the fence, through the woods, he didn't stop running until the sound of gunshots stopped entirely. even then, he kept running. he ran for what felt like hours until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. collapsing onto the dirt, heaving in and out.

woodbury had fallen, it's entire population now living in the prison nearby. rick had relinquished his leadership, insisting the prison be governed by a council. he often went on runs by himself, to get away from it all, to look back on his actions, to find lost survivors. it wasn't everyday rick grimes came across a twenty something perhaps younger male covered in blood, breathing like he had never tasted air before. well, usually the young men were walkers. but this one was very much alive.

"please don't" the male groaned out, eyes wide, as rick approached with a knife. "who are you" he drawled out, kneeling down to get a good look at the other. the young males face was bruised, his hair covered in blood, an ear was missing, and the male was emaciated. "uh" the male seemed to have to think about it, as if he hadn't spoken to another human in years "m/n" he finally puffed out, bringing his hand up to his head, where the left ear once was.

rick's hands brushed m/n hair out of his face, causing the male to flinch away "how many walkers have you killed" the older man finally asked after several moments of silence. m/n just stared at him, as if to say he hadn't been keeping track "how many people have you killed" still, the same look. "water" "what" rick narrowed his eyes. m/n used his free hand to shakily point to the man's bag, where a bottle of water was latched on to the side.

rick was silent as m/n chugged the water down "do you have anything sweet?" "no i don't" "oh" something about the boy felt familiar. didn't glenn mention originally going into atlanta to find a boy with a similar description? maybe it was just that the male reminded him of his own boy in a way, or maybe he had already developed a fondness for m/n. "i have a camp" rick looked m/n in the eye "we have walls, food, a community, a doctor that can look at your wound" he added.

the h/c-et shook his head "not again" rick furrowed his brows "what" the boy started to pick himself up "i gotta, um" he started feeling around the ground for his gun, "gotta go" he finished as he felt the handle of the gun. stuffing the weapon into his belt, he stood up, using a tree as a crutch. "c'mon kid, you're going to die out here" rick leaned forward and took the gun out of the others hand "no im not! give it!" m/n lunged forward, only to awkwardly fall into rick's chest, sinking down back to the ground.

"you've got two bullets left" m/n looked up at rick with a glare "either you come back to my camp with me or i just wasted my water on a dead man" m/n held his glare until the sun got into his eyes. "whatever" he looked down, hoisting himself back to his feet with the help of rick's hand.

daryl squinted his eyes as the evening sun glared down, merle had stolen his motorcycle. again. the older dixon was always going off on fun runs without informing anyone beforehand. perhaps because the redneck had never really been accepted into the group like daryl was.

taking another bite of his pork chop, daryl grunted at carol who told him to go in and get some rest. but why would he want to rest when all he could think of when his mind was unoccupied was his baby brother, the boy he had pretty much raised, who was now probably a rotting corpse in atlanta. but daryl still held out hope that m/n had gotten out, that he was safe, that he would find him oneday. this was why he never rested, these thoughts would creep up in the younger dixons head.

the sound of his motorcycle rumbling told him that merle was back. the older dixon sauntered over to daryl, a cigarette sat between his thin lips, "look what you're big brother merle got you, darylina" he pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket, sliding it into daryls pocket. daryl said nothing, staring into the distance; was that rick? the figure was too far away to discern.

"dad!" carl called out, jogging down. "look what i- m/n?" the young grimes exclaimed as he came closer to the pair. rick carried the half-conscious boy through the gates "you know this guy?" rick looked at carl, who flicked the hair out of m/n's face to get a better look "he was with us back in atlanta, we thought he died on a run"

daryl's heart stopped, did he hear carl right? they were pretty far away. standing up, he threw the pork bone aside and marched towards the two- three. when he finally came close enough to see the persons face, he had to stop himself from tearing up in front of carl and rick "m/n" he uttered out quietly. the father and son came to a halt as he approached "you knew this guy back in atlanta" rick nodded at daryl "'course i did. he's my brother" daryl was quick to take m/n off rick. he wanted to cut the mans arms off just for touching his precious brother.

daryl rushed m/n into the prison, settling him in his cell, "go get hershel" he told carol, who looked just as perplexed as merle did as he walked into the cell. "m/n!? i thought you was dead" he breathed out, shoving daryl out the way, who was quick to push back, both wanting to be as close to their younger brother as possible "where'd you find him" merle looked over at rick, who was standing out front the cell "in the woods, looked like he'd been running"

rick moved aside as hershel came in, merle reluctantly stood up as hershel sat to access m/n's condition. "he's lost a lot of blood" hershel examined the ear hole where the flesh and muscle had been ripped from "we should have bob look at him, but from what i can see he needs bandaging and antibiotics" daryl grunted "i ain't letting no stranger touch him" he ushered hershel away, taking m/n's hand in his own "i found antibiotics on last weeks run, that gon' be enough" merle looked over at the old man, who nodded "we'll have to see how he reacts"

neither daryl or merle left m/n's side whilst waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. it was strange. no one in the prison had ever seen either of them so worried for or attached to someone. but for the six days and nights m/n spent unconscious, his body fighting off the infection from his wounds, recovering from the months of maltreatment.

when m/n finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, daryl was leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the boys face "sleep well?" was the first thing he said after the two had stared at each other for what felt like an eternity "yeah" m/n spoke softly.

"i should have never gone hunting that day" "am i dead" the two spoke in unison. daryl breathed out "no, never gon' let that happen" he shuffled closer, laying down next to the youngest dixon.

daryl stared at m/n intensely, until merle was roused from his sleep "m/n, i told you not to go out of my sight" he grumbled, sitting forward. m/n looked up at the metal frame of the top bunk "i just wanted to get you some narcan" merle stared at him, blinking away tears "didn' have to risk your life for it" he pursed his lips "i ain't worth you dyin'" he added quietly, sitting back, his eyes not leaving m/n's.

the room went silent for a moment "maybe not, but you're my brother" m/n closed his eyes for a moment "do you guys have pop or candy here?" he questioned hopefully. merle let out a chuckle "i found a can on my run today" he chuckled out, before going quiet "i chugged it on the spot"

"you piece of shit!"

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